Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
There was a period of time at Ridgefield where I came across what I called Hawk-on-a-Stick, juvenile red-tailed hawks perched on signs around the large meadow that would allow me to view them from close range. They didn’t often look directly look at me, which was a good thing, as it meant they were comfortable with me and on the lookout either for voles in the meadow or older redtails that might chase them away.
This mailbox down the street has a weasel delivery slot and I’m a little jealous. Although maybe it’s not for delivery but to allow safe passage of weasels from one side of the mailbox to the other. Either way the Postmaster General seems to approve.
My wife and I were discussing how we’d love to know what Boo is thinking. Like Scout, the black-and-white cat that preceded him, Boo is clever, but more than that he seems to ponder, to wonder, to want to understand not just the what of the world but the why. We’ve had other curious cats but there is a depth to Boo’s curiosity that is unique, so much so that it sometimes takes me aback when he plays with all the joy and enthusiasm of the other cats, even though we’ve had him since he was a kitten and we’ve played together countless hours.
Would that all so desired to understand the unknown, rather than fear it.
This environmental portrait of a great egret on the Oaks to Wetlands Trail is one of my favorites from my many visits to Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge, the second-to-last picture on my second-to-last visit. I didn’t know it was going to be my penultimate visit, I arrived in innocence, unaware in a month a job search would begin that ended in a move far away. The trail is in the Carty Unit, a part of the refuge I didn’t visit very often as I so loved the auto tour in the River S Unit, I almost didn’t go since I forgot my tripod which made pictures in the dark of the forest difficult (I’d forget it on my last visit too). I’m glad I did since it turned out to be my last hike on this trail.
It takes on extra meaning for me now as in both picture and memory I look at my beloved refuge from a distance. Thankfully the look evokes fondness rather than regret, full of thankfulness for my many visits rather than sadness at their end. I knew after moving here the biggest test of how happy I was would be if editing old pictures brought tears rather than smiles, so I’m pleased to report that I’m both grateful for my two decades in the Pacific Northwest and thrilled about exploring the American Southwest.
The wetlands behind me, the desert before, my life begins anew.
Sam in the picture window in the dining room of our house in Portland in March 2017. My Sony camera arrived a couple of weeks prior and on this day I photographed all the pets with a few of the new lenses, in this case Sony’s lovely 55mm f/1.8.
A juvenile red-tailed hawk sits in a meadow in heavy fog at Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge in Washington. The telephoto lens is exaggerating the whiteout effect as it is picking up all the fog between my car and the distant hawk but it illustrates the point: for an animal that might normally hunt by soaring high above the meadow and looking for voles below, a thick fog changes the dynamic between predator and prey.
The fog didn’t have such an impact on an American bittern stalking the shoreline that winter morning as it looked and listened for small creatures both on the land and in the water. Sometimes it hunted by slowly walking up and down the shoreline, sometimes by standing still, but in either case the thick fog would not obscure the prey such a short distance away.
There aren’t as many lizards in our neighborhood as I would like but we do have some.
