These are a Few of My Favourite Things

I would love to soar above the earth, free to follow the breezes. Untethered. Accountable only to myself, or my baser instincts. But Free. As a bird.
I don't know why I feel this way, only that I do. And that one of my greatest life pleasures is being outdoors, watching birds.
This hobby passion has taken me all over North America and parts of the Caribbean, and now is the primary reason we travel. To see new birds. Yes to see new places and meet new people and have new experiences, too. But, those of you who share this addiction know. It gets in your blood.
I have over 25 bird guides/books, 50+ bird sculptures and miscellaneous pieces of bird art, four pairs of binoculars, 10 feeders, an account at the local feed store (!)...well, you can see that it is a pretty major part of my life.
Over the past few years, since starting this blog, I carry a camera with me (as well as binoculars) and I now have several hundreds or thousands of photos. Which I have decided to start culling and organizing a little...starting today.
So here are my favourite bird shots of 2011...no particular commentary, just that each and every photo is a memory of a small, feathered thrill that left me smiling.
Funny. As I age, I can't remember what I had for breakfast, or what we did on the weekend -but I can remember  taking every single one of these photos!



2011 was a wonderful year, birding mainly along the routes and rivers of the Ottawa Valley, and along the eastern seaboard, from Connecticut to Long Island, Delmarva, Cape May, South Carolina and all parts in between

enjoying many flights of pure fancy!

Diamonds in the Rough

We all have our reasons why.

Why we like  red instead of blue, sweet instead of sour, tuba instead of bagpipes.  Perhaps it's genetically coded in and we have no one to blame but our forefathers and mothers who were either hunters or gatherers

back when it all began.

I'm pretty sure I'm from the gathering clan.

There's a body of evidence that would seem to indicate that this is true.

 I like nuts.

And berries.

Salads I sometimes crave.

Coleslaw? Yum.

And tender green shoots in spring? Heaven.

I am NOT a hunter.

Although some of the clan have tried on occaision to convert me.

Once I actually went hunting for partridge with two of the members of the  Hunting Clan. They put a shotgun in my hands, showed me how to load a shell in it, aim, and fire. Then left me standing amidst a bramble of raspberry canes

and told me to shoot when they flushed out a bird.

So, there I was licking raspberry juice off my fingers, admiring all the butterflies flitting about when this gray fluffy bird came streaking 

right over my head!

I ducked and yelled, dropped the gun which fired off into the bushes, hopefully not hitting anything, and sat down and started shaking and babbling away,

apologizing profoundly to all creatures great and small for even contemplating shooting one of them.

Never again.

That the was the moment when I knew I was a gatherer.

But it's no a simple thing. There's much more to being a gatherer than just picking berries and eating candied pralines.

Over the years, I have come to realize that it impacts my lifestyle and the choices I make in dozens of subtle, and some not so subtle, ways.

I live on a beach. Beside a river.

This river abounds with wildlife -both the hunting and the gathering kind.

I 've seen bear, fox, deer, mink, beaver, porcupine, raccoon, rabbit, otter, mouse and moose; fish, frogs, snakes, newts, turtles and lizards.

Lots of birds and bugs and butterflies.

And I've come to realize that this beach is their home as much,

if not much more than, it is mine.

My neighbours, who only live here in the summer think I'm a little

wonky -or maybe a lot wonky. I love the reeds in front of our place.

It's not rocket science to figure out that this is an important part of the natural life around here. Why some would go so far as to recognize that it's Habitat.

And that it should be left alone.

My neighbour's disagree. They call it weeds, and every Sunday morning in the summer, they can be seen on the beach with their rakes, their ATV's and their rusty bedsprings, dragging through the weeds in front of their places.

They prefer desertscape to riparian area.

They have offered numerous times to kill the weeds out front of our place.

I have told them numerous times that those reeds and grasses serve a very special  function, providing food sources for some, cover for others, and protecting the entire beach from erosian. Meh!

They don't care.

Their rough patch is my diamond mine.

And so we have agreed to disagree.

And when they mention in passing that there doesn't seem to be as many swallows or butterflies as before, I just look at them, then invite them over

to our place to watch the river flow.

Good Morning Miss Cellanea

The past several weeks have been full of work, and more work,

then throw in some work, and that about sums it up.

Holidays are wonderful but there's a price to be paid besides the Visa bill at the end of them. Starts with W. So I haven't had much time to sit and relax, and go through the photo albums that are so easy to build on the computer! Take the camera, go for a drive, take lots of shots, download, name the file, and then...wait 'til there's a spare hour hanging about.

That would be now! Finally!

So going through the album for September, I remember this day clearly.

A soft, misting September morning.

Quiet. Perfect day to grab the bins, the books, a bun  

and just go.

The Ottawa Valley is a perfect place to ramble. Rolling meadows, roadside streams, very little traffic once you're off the main highway. You can take your time and look to see what the ditches have to offer.

Obviously well used, and right in the middle of a raspberry patch?

It's all about location, location, location.

Just beyond I spy a sure sign that summer is over, and birds of a feather

are making flight plans.

The signs were everywhere on this day. Some less subtle than others.

Obviously, this is where I was meant to stop.

A place to have a little picnic - or catch one if you can.

The area was originally settled in the 1800's, as loggers and farmers and merchants came to the Ottawa Valley in search of the tall stands of timber. It was a tough life, that spared no one. Coming across small family plots overgrown and unkempt is not an everyday event, but nor is it that rare.

This particular road is an old one, and it was likely once an animal trail, 

  that followed the river. It still is rich with life.

The hunted and the hunters dwell here.

They know they're being watched.

By this guy.

While the chickadees hunt juicy little seeds and berries, and

the Great Blue Heron heads to the next fishing hole.

It's all a matter of perspective. Yours. Mine. Theirs.

Life and death. Daily dramas.

Food for thought.

Fitting in.

We all do it, though some better than others. Whether it's wearing the latest clothing dictated as "in" by the fashionistas, eating the latest food fad, playing the latest game...you name it, we're doing it. Trying to fit in - not to stand out in the crowd, but to be the crowd. We want to be like everyone else in the tribe, because to be different puts us at risk of being noticed. And if we're noticed, who knows what will happen next?Might be seen by someone or something that doesn't have our best interests at heart. Better to blend is Nature's primary dictate.


This little American Goldfinch looks pretty much like the sulphur yellow leaves of the birch tree it's perching on...a blink of a leaf against a perfect blue sky.



















And the Great Blue Heron slowly weaves through the reeds, seeking to blend with the long slender stalks as it stalks its dinner.











His slate gray body matches the water below, and the sky above, a ghostly apparition that's only sensed. And by then, it's likely too late.

Has anybody seen my time? I've lost it.

Utterly amazing how fast this past month has gone, and the other hundreds preceding it! I woke up one morning this month - my birthday actually, and thought I was drowning! I was in fact, in dander and fur! Gawd...breathing is definitely all it's cracked up to be. But , I never used to have allergies, and frankly, Scarlet, I don't really give a damn. I 'm not gettin' rid of the feline,and I ain't takin any steroids or whatever it is one takes. ( I may consider buying stocks in Kleenex).
So I was going to write about that particular incident in greater detail, but then the rest of the day intruded...and took all those thoughts away with it. Then I was going to write about a trip I took to the beautiful Haliburton Highlands, in eastern Ontario. It was a business trip, but I took my time getting there, and it appeared to be "Turtles trying to cross busy highway to get the other side day" and I nearly got myself splattered across the county road trying to save this not so little dude. There are only 3 kinds of turtles in our area - snapping, mud, or painted. I think this is a female mud turtle. I think female...who else would face speeding metal and steel and whining rubber to drop a few dozen eggs in a safe place? I actually stopped and darted out in to the middle of the highway on 3 separate occaisions that lazy afternoon! These turtles were hell bent to accomplish their mission, and I, apparently had become their designated life saver! Karma points! Woo hoo!
That being said, the road was winding and taking me through places I've never even heard of, but should, to wit -Cheerful Lane!!
Maybe that's where all the turtles were headed! If so, I wanna go there too! Imagine living on Cheerful Lane! Are you allowed to feel sad on Cheerful Lane? Not for long I bet! Some little bluebird would likely come and sit on your shoulder...and fly away just before you got ready to smack him for being so bright and cheery!
Just down the road, there was another lane called "Cope Drive"...so I did just that. I coped with the death wish turtles to the best of my ability, and tried to be cheerful while I drove! I must say, that sights like this barn, deep in the ancient remnants of the Laurentian mountains, made it easy to cope.
A village near Wilno, Ontario is the first Polish settlement in North America, and one of the groups of people from that area are the Kashubs. They are master artisans and crafters and as you can see, their barns are particularly cheerful!
This drive was taking me forever -mainly because I had turned it in to a mini I need a holiday day. Stopping wherever and whenever I felt like it. Thinking thoughts that middle aged women sometimes think about, while gazing at spectacular scenery like this...The little red arrow points to the Great Blue Heron I interupted when I stopped just to breathe in the fresh hilly air and listen to the babble of the brook. Stopped because there's so many things to think about, and really, so little time. We just don't know when our time will be up. So it's important to take time in as many chunks as we can possibly grab. And it's important to let friends and family, family especially, know that time is a gift not to be wasted. Ah-choo! Kleenex please!