Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
A week’s worth of weather in one picture. Rain turned the soft parts of the trail to mud that deformed under bike tires. More rain filled the depressions with water. Yesterday dawned cold and the water turned to ice, which either took on the color of the muddy water below or reflected the blue skies above.
It’s my goal to photograph every animal of the Sonoran Desert atop a saguaro but with mule deer I think this is as close as I’m going to get.
The fruit of the jojoba reminds me of an acorn, taken on a sunny spring morning up on the Marcus Landslide. Acorns remind me of the pup, always a good thing.
A northern harrier stretches its wings on a foggy winter morning in 2009. I had seen it an hour earlier in this same spot but I don’t know if it spent the hour there or only returned to a favored perch. I’m happy I got some pictures of the stump I called “The Cactus Tree” as in subsequent days it fell over into the swamp.
From January 2010, I always loved finding bitterns although they excelled at not being seen.
Prepare to be squeaked at, if ye be so brave!
After two decades in Oregon Christmas week has felt familiar as it has rained most days. This morning we got a little sunshine in with the clouds so I changed my plans and made my way over to the Marcus Landslide as I break in some new camera gear. Mostly I photographed birds (big surprise!) but I couldn’t resist a quick shot of Weaver’s Needle at sunrise. A little later I stopped in my tracks as a coyote pack sang out from across the valley, without tall trees to block the sound their voices rang clear even at a distance. I had to laugh wondering how many homeowners in that area woke to their dogs joining in the morning chorus.
I’ve heard that criminals might return to the scene of the crime but I think that’s ridiculous, no one … would … just … be so … brazen … … …
It’s very important to solve the mystery of the tree, she said, falling trees being very dangerous to the little ones of the household. Sudden gust of wind was her guess.
I suspected the orange tabby knew more than he was letting on, but who was he protecting? Who? Who? Was he not answering or could I not hear above his raucous purrs? I needed to take my investigation elsewhere if I was going to solve the mystery of the fallen tree.
Boolie 