Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
While his siblings nearby practiced flying on a breezy spring evening, one last kestrel wasn’t quite sure about entering the wide world beyond. I feel such sympathy for the last-to-fledge, on the precipice between the only life they’ve known, the comfortable life that must end, and the dangerous path ahead where they can live their fullest lives. Taken near sunset in 2021.
One of the things I love about our house is the view of the mountains in the distance when you walk in. For months now though this is the view I often first see when I come home from work. Sometimes Bear greets me at the door and runs off to find a toy for us to play with, but if he’s sleepy he rolls over and asks for a belly rub. There may be wiggling involved lest such a subtle gesture go unnoticed.
Another picture of Bear and The Elephant, taken towards the end of an afternoon hike a few months ago. It’s hot enough now that such walks are verboten, it’s early morning or nothing. Evening swims are now on the table though! I have switched back to this leash, which we bought on the day we adopted Ellie in 2009. We have fancier leashes but I’ve always come back to this one.
A gilded flicker uses saguaro fruit as a perch, taken a couple of weeks ago while the fruit was ripening. Taken at the end of a short sunrise hike after barely sleeping the night before.
A great horned owl steers its ship between the edges of day and night, the sun starting to fade on a warm spring evening as I hiked my way out of the park. Though I rarely hike with it I had my biggest telephoto with me that day so when I looked out across the desert and saw a strange bump atop a boulder I was able to throw the camera on the tripod for a closer look. I won’t tell you how many days I looked at this shot on my computer before I realized there were two owls in the picture. In my defense the second owl wasn’t visible when I started the sequence of shots.
Sunset can bring some amazing colors to the desert, some days more than others. A quick snapshot from our backyard on a rainy evening in May.
I call this soaptree yucca “A Boy & His Pup” in honor of Bear and I, though the appellations aren’t quite appropriate for either of us, consider it artistic liberty or a nod to our spirits and not our ages. We’re looking south on the Redbird Trail, the trail closest to our house and a favorite for dog walks. The yucca is close to the area where we enter the preserve and I’ve wanted to photograph it for a while, on this day in May both arms were in full bloom and as I turned to look back at the end of our walk saw the sinking sun was only falling on the flower stalks and the distant hills. I took several compositions but at the moment this is my favorite, one in a long series of the light arriving into or departing from the desert.
Boo has been my constant companion the past year when I’m in my office, we’ll see if that holds with hot weather fast approaching. Usually he curls up on my legs or tucks up tight beside me, but on this occasion he sat high in my lap with his legs stretched out before him. He was so close I couldn’t use my laptop so I put it aside and reveled in the moment.
I had four days off for Memorial Day and was able to get up before sunrise on three of them, taking a short photography hike before a quick trip back home to pick up Bear and bring him along for a longer hike. Only possible because the trailheads are so close by, one of the main reasons I wanted to settle in this part of the city. I call this saguaro “The Muppet” as its center arm has a face that reminds me of something I might have seen on Sesame Street while growing up, though this muppet lives on the Latigo Trail. Taken as the light first cleared the mountains.
Boolie 