View allAll Photos Tagged Furiously
I guess most people think of the fjords when they consider this country. Why wouldn’t they? For people like you and me it might be Lofoten. Funny how the latter is part of the lexicon of landscape photography, while for the rest of the population it’s mostly unknown. Unless you’re Norwegian it is anyway. Ali and I are going on our first ever (and depending upon how it goes only ever) cruise next Spring. Destination Norwegian Fjords. We’ve been watching quite a few YouTube videos of course, to see what to expect while we’re there. It seemed pretty clear that for many of those among them who visited the northern archipelago, Lofoten was a place they’d never heard of until their cruises took them there. Many of them were gushing with praise for the islands after the time they spent there.
Similarly, I’d never heard of Norway’s first and original national park, the Rondane, until some time last year. I can’t even remember how the area first came to my attention, but once it did, the deed was done. Steve and I had been discussing the possibility of a Scandinavian road trip for some months, and while Lofoten was a bit too far from his home on the west coast of Sweden, perhaps this was an opportunity to explore a less familiar but equally dramatic area of the country next door. With no real idea as to exactly how fortuitous the timing would turn out to be, we agreed upon the third week of September. At first we flirted with the idea of a two centre trip to Norway, with a few days in the mountainous region between Bergen and Oslo, but it quickly became clear that we’d spend too much time in the car and too little of it behind the cameras. Either base would give us more than enough to photograph in the few days we had. So the Rondane it would be then. I booked my flights and began to do some research in the usual places. Pins were sunk into maps, mountain roads and trails examined as closely as possible, the handful of available YouTube videos watched and watched again, and messages were exchanged with increasing levels of anticipation as September came ever closer.
And one Tuesday morning, a little more than twelve hours after arriving at our rented cabin in the seemingly abandoned mountain village of Mysusaeter at the last hour of daylight, we ventured out on foot towards Ulafossen. Chalets stood empty after the end of the summer season in the mountains. There are plenty of them here, but no more than a handful had vehicles parked beside them by now, as if the entire place had been cast under an enchantment. A cool mist hung on the still air, unmoving, clinging to the trees and land as we stomped along the path. We weren’t sure exactly which path to take, but we knew roughly where to look, eventually squelching over a patch of wet ground through one of the sleeping properties at the edge of the birch forest as the sound of rushing water started to fill the silence with a growing crescendo. Into the trees we went, following the loudening rush to its source.
We couldn’t really have found a better spot from which to start. Ahead of us lay a spectacular series of tiers that crashed noisily and steeply through the colourful forest, long drops into shallow basins, the river chasing furiously down the mountainside and beyond us out of sight. This was my first taste of Norway, a waterfall that would surely draw huge numbers of visitors in any other place, yet here we were alone. We didn’t see another person in the two and a half hours we spent exploring Ulafossen, gradually making our way up to the bridge where the forest track crosses the river at the start of the Peer Gynt trail. This place barely makes the map here, which I suppose can only speak for Norway’s enormous wealth of natural beauty. And this was only the start of things. If the rest of our time in Norway was going to be anywhere near as good as this, then we were in for a very memorable adventure indeed.
The whale shark is a slow-moving filter feeding shark and the largest known fish that eats only plankton. Very little is known about them in general.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whale_shark
We swam with 5 different whale sharks that day 6 times (twice with 1 shale shark) so a fantastic day. Very strict rules for how to behave around them with licensed tour operators. Spotter planes fly over to find them and then the boats move ahead of them waiting for them to catch up. Everyone slides into the water and sees it swim under us and then we snorkel furiously to keep up either behind or generally to the side no further than the pectoral fin. In this shot, it turned to look at us before returning to its migratory path. The largest whale shark we saw that day was ~9m (30ft).
We went with
which were great! I didn’t even get seasick.
Used a new Meikon housing for the camera together with a 4" dome... About USD400 total so very cheap compared to other brands and so far - so good. Just be careful to order with expedited freight as I ended up waiting for ~6 weeks for it and missed taking it to the Maldives. The dome was really good for making the shots wide angle. Definitely needed here but fitting a dome/wet lens on a 67mm thread in a hurry under water is a pain. The vis wasn't the best either... photoshop's noise reduction "dust and scratches" was surprisingly effective.
The tour went from Exmouth in Western Australia where we were staying. A fabulous place to visit where the desert meets the Ningaloo Reef. A fringing reef that you can snorkel out to from the beach (cf the barrier reef which can be >1.5hrs by boat from land).
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ningaloo_Coast
I just don’t understand why more people don’t visit there. Manta rays, dugongs, dolphins, turtles, shark cleaning stations at 7m depth!!! (no diving required). AWESOME :-)
It's a Dancing Snake WILD first! - Arizona Ridge-nose Rattlesnake. Does your state have a "State Reptile"? Well Arizona does, and this is it! This is a smallish species, found in the Arizona woodlands. It was rattling furiously, but I could not hear a thing (so watch where you place your hands and feet when out hiking). I was with a very experienced Herper who helped me get this lifer. Unfortunately, poachers and over-zealous photographers have literally destroyed several habitat areas where this animal is found. I promised to only give the most general location for this find.
©R.C. Clark: Dancing Snake Nature Photography
All rights reserved
Huachuca Mountains, AZ
#MacroMondays
#GuiltyPleasure
Oh, the cheek! How could greedy Tyranno dare try stealing Veloci's beloved potato crisp?!? "Try" being the operative word, because never in the whole world would she let him have it. Ever! Lashing around furiously, her tail was ready to punch him right in the eye. "Go buy your own bag of potato crisps, you lazy bully! This isn't even your favourite variety!", she hissed. "But Veloci, darling", Tyranno cooed, "you know how I like to sleep in on New Year's Eve, and the shops closed at 2 p. m., and now it's a quarter past two... How can I properly celebrate New Year's Eve without potato crisps? Please share, there are enough crisps for the two of us. And it's much more fun to binge-watch all of the Jurassic Park franchise movies together. And afterwards, we could watch all the Alien movies. Come on, Veloci, dear, it will be so much fun!" "Hmpf. Maybe you are right. Watching the movies alone is not fun at all. But I get to sit in your arms the entire time! And next time you buy the crisps!"
There are quite a few guilty pleasures included already in the story above. And there are a few more in this photo: Keeping, and foremost buying things I don't need but might be useful one day for an MM theme, like these two dinosaur figures I didn't own before I became an MM member. Other guilty pleasures included in the image are: over-processing my photos, using over-saturated colours, writing weird stories...
I did in-camera focus stacking but brought a little blur back in Helicon Focus because I wanted some sense of motion in the image. Size-wise, this is pretty much maxed out, I arranged my little scene so that it was just a little less than three inches.
HMM, Everyone, and wishing you a "good slide" (einen guten Rutsch) into 2025, and a Happy, Healthy, and peaceful New Year!
Young grizzlies wrestling furiously in the very wet and beautiful Khutzeymateen Valley.
Thanks for your views, faves and comments.
A dawn photograph from the archives; rough seas in the morning made for the rocks on the shore appearing as if they rose from mist. Managed to salvage a few shots between furiously wiping down the lens.
I simply cannot seem to catch up on my Flickring. I've tried several different approaches... posting one or two pics then furiously trying to visit as many contacts photostreams as possible... posting no pics and still commenting on others... not posting or commenting (that was completely ineffective eh? ha!)
I think going on the cruise made me cherish "down time" and then returning right at Christmas meant spending as much time with my kids as I could (I wouldn't change that!)... and now I'm back to a loaded work schedule.
It's all left me pretty far behind in the flickrverse. Please be patient? I'm still trying...
Peregrine falcons circa 2016 and a raw image recovered from my previously corrupt external hard drive (see yesterday's owl post). I had JPGs of all of these but had lost half of the raw images. I hadn't yet embraced camera raw image editing back then, but at least I was creating them. In this frame, the fledgling on the right had rejoined his nestling sister with the hope of finding food. As Mom rounded the corrner with dinner, downy feathers began to fly as the siblings began flapping furiously with excitement. June 2016
Photographed in a blind using a rental 600mm lens and teleconverter to avoid disrupting the falcons.
This is another neighbour’s cat. He only comes a few times and seems to be a nice and curious fellow. According to curmudgeonly neighbour Lu, he is a fellow that she has to growl and/or hiss at furiously whenever he appears. So I am guessing she doesn’t like him . I don’t really get the chance to know him, including remembering his name. Ah neighbours😖😂
Happy Caturday 💕
In the water, the coot doesn’t just use those big feet for propelling itself; they are also important for getting airborne. To take flight, the birds run across the surface of the water and furiously flap their wings before they lift off.
Dans l’eau, la foulque n’utilise pas seulement ses grands pieds pour se propulser ; ils sont également importants pour décoller. Pour prendre leur envol, les oiseaux courent à la surface de l’eau et battent furieusement des ailes avant de s’envoler.
Feeding furiously amongst the seaweed on the southern coast at Inchmery this Dunlin was one of a few in a mixed flock of waders including Redshank.
Thank you all fo your kind responses.
This is a recent photo that I will never be able to take again, as the Central Park Conservancy in its great wisdom has cut down this and the sole neighboring tree. Swallows used to perch here after their furiously fast flight. The Swallows and I will have to find another tree… At the Harlem Meer, Central Park, New York.
A "cropped in camera" shot of a great grey owl flying fairly close to me while it relocated from one perch to another in its quest for prey. I was a bit surprised by its quick launch and I panned furiously trying to get it in the frame. Not a lot of success, but I'll take this one where the bird is indeed in the frame and in decent focus.
It was Saturday morning when we noticed a very large buck following a young doe. It's late in the mating season, but this small girl had the interest of the male. Soon there was another buck challenging the first one. The first one is the king of the forest around here and did not take to the threat of the other. He furiously chased him away time and time again. Three smaller bucks and a couple of youngsters watched from further away. The doe and the big guy crossed the street and the second one watched, wondering if he should try again. Here the two guys are in a staring match.
There is a commonly seen animal in Yosemite that is loaded with personality and has an unmatched sense of courage. This would be the California ground squirrel. This little rodent has a magnetic personality and a highly unusual way of defending itself. When confronted by predators, California ground squirrels furiously shake their tails and actually heat their tails up by as much as 12 degrees Fahrenheit. To a heat sensing organism like a snake, this sudden flash of heat startles them and sends them scurrying off in the opposite direction. This is the first example of infrared communication ever observed in the animal world! Weirder yet, mother squirrels have been observed chewing up shed rattlesnake skins and then meticulously grooming their pups. This rattlesnake "perfume" is thought to camouflage the pup's scent. So next time you see one of these little rodents in Yosemite, realize you just might be seeing one of the most clever and courageous animals of them all...( This information was taken from an article posted by a Yosemite Valley Park Ranger--no name given )
" He froze, becoming stone still. As the hover climbed the hill to the palace, his shoulders sank, and he returned his gaze to the window. "She's my alpha," he murmured, with a haunting sadness in his voice.
Alpha.
Cress leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees, "Like the star?"
"What star?"
She stiffened, instantly embarrassed, and scooted back from him again. "Oh. Um. In a constellation, the brightest star is called the alpha. I thought maybe you meant that she's...like...your brightest star." Looking away, she knotted her hands in her lap, aware that she was blushing furiously now and this beast of a man was about to realize what an over-romantic sap she was.
But instead of sneering or laughing, Wolf sighed, "Yes," he said, his gaze climbing up to the full moon that had emerged in the blue evening sky.
"Exactly like that.” "
(From the book "Cress" by Marissa Meyer)
And of course you should listen to some great tune meanwhile:
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© Copyright by Floriana Thor 2013-2015
So obviously I wanted to get to Glencoe on a trip to Scotland. It was the site of a devilish betrayal by some and mighty clever move by others. No matter, the site is famous and infamous.
However as I was driving toward my goal, we came across this amazing valley with powerful mountains rising from the plains and mist coiling about furiously.
The scene before me was so amazing that I simply stopped the car and captured a few images. It was magnificent and the air so clean and fresh and cool.
I thought I was miles away and I was waiting for a sign but somehow I had arrived at Glencoe Valley. I guess that was the sign :)
Very breathtaking and this picture is just an image of the reality.
2020.07.24
The thick plastic board rattled and cracked as my back furiously brushed against it, in a struggle to make a quick entry. The police sirens echoed somewhere close, just close enough for your heart to skip a few beats, and then grew fainter as they drove off into the distance. Still no one coming for us. It was hard to imagine that just a couple of hours ago I was sleeping in the soothing coolness of a church, unable to move, my head spinning from too many days of walking in the midday sun. Now it was spinning from holding my breath. From gazing too intently at the ceiling, the walls, the decorations, the stairs, the doors, the colors and patterns that emerge only with time... The whole building served one purpose and one purpose only – to stare at it. Ultimate form over functionality.
The Quandry Chronicles Book One: The Lost Scarab of the Aethernauts! is an illustrated pulp adventure inspired by the tabletop gaming system Space: 1889 and shot in Second Life. Narrated in sessions like a tabletop campaign, QC will post weekly on Fridays, unless I get a bit ahead of myself :)
Cassiopeia Quandry gazed through the brass eyepiece of England’s second-best astronomical telescope. It was at nowhere near the altitude needed for the detailed observations she needed to conduct, but a favor was a favor, and Mars was nearing its closest point to Earth in nearly two years. The chance to confirm and build upon Professor Lowell’s observations of the great canals of the Red Planet was too compelling to even think of passing up!
For a moment the inevitable clouds parted and Mars shone, glorious and bloody-red in the starry sky. She quickly bent to the eyepiece, sketching furiously as she gazed at – yes! clearly! the network of lines crossing the arid world!
Surely there was still a civilization there, hanging on as the planet turned to desert. And if life continued to exist on Mars, then the Visitors her father had spent his life tracking down traces of in ancient ruins around the world – surely they were still out there somewhere!
If she could just find – even if not conclusive proof, just solid evidence – she could gain funding to continue the search for the race her father believed had colonized Earth in the legendary past. He believed they had educated ancient humans in sciences, arts, and engineering, giving them wonders far beyond what even Victorian Man was capable of.
And then! And then! Aether travel was in its earliest, dangerously experimental days, but perhaps the Visitors had left behind clues, key technology, perhaps even an aether flyer stored in some dusty pyramid. And they – of course she would lead any expedition, as the maker of the key discoveries – they could fly to the outer planets and meet the Visitors themselves!
Her imagination flew to Saturn and beyond, but she continued to sketch the Red Planet until the cloud cover returned to stay. As the starlight faded, she closed her notebook and slid it in a pocket, where it caught on an unopened envelope.
It was from Uncle Budgie! Her father’s oldest friend and most passionate advocate, he had handled all the details of getting her set up in an appropriate fashion in London when she returned for her father’s funeral, barely a month past. Uncle Budgie and Papa were veterans of many an expedition to Egypt, and long nights of speculation, charts and maps and ancient scrolls spread out on the floor of her father’s study in Cambridge.
An invitation to an exhibition opening tomorrow at the Crystal Palace, and a covering note:
“Dearest Cassie,
“Please join me tomorrow at the exhibition. There are certain photographs, the meaning of which has escaped every expert eye but my own – and, I am sure, will be clear to you. I have arranged a bit of a clandestine meeting during the affair with several gentlemen and ladies, each the best in their respective fields. Certain obstacles still remain, but I believe an expedition is in order, and once you see those photographs, you will know why!
Until tomorrow evening,
Yours,
Uncle Budgie”
She wouldn’t sleep tonight, she knew – she would stay up wondering just precisely those photographs would reveal. An expedition! At last! She shivered with excitement.
This shot captures the change in weather conditions at the entrance to Pipers River. Here the currents would make swimming a very dangerous proposition. If you enlarge the channel marker you'll see its shake in the water. This is not lack of focus, but even at 1/1250 it is shaking furiously in the wind and current.
I chose sepia here (through colour toning) because I wanted to emulate the look achieved by England's great pioneer of Pictorialism, P.H. Emerson (1856-1936), and especially his East Anglia seascapes. There is a marvellous book by Nancy Newhall on Emerson that I have enjoyed for a little while, "P.H. Emerson: The Fight for Photography as a Fine Art" (Aperture, 1975). Even greats of early 20th century photography, like Alfred Stieglitz, looked up to Emerson as a master.
A lovely encounter very late one evening with 17 year old Bear 104 and her 2 cubs as they furiously guzzled every berry in sight. They daintily hold the twigs with their enormous claws and seem to delicately suck the berries from the stems with their lips and tongues.
Here’s a link to an article about her from 2015: www.rmotoday.com/local-news/bear-104-loses-cubs-to-large-...
#OnThisDay: February 4, 2014 was a brilliantly sunny day, much like today. Running late for a meeting, I had been rushing to get out the door when I heard several crows excitedly calling in my backyard. I rushed around the house, looking through various windows, when I finally spotted the culprit. A merlin had captured a dove, right in my backyard! It was then perched on the ground working furiously to remove feathers. I had been new to photography and wildlife and still figuring things out. One thing I did know was that I was going to miss my meeting. I spent several minutes watching from the house through an open window. Eventually, the merlin flew to a nearby tree where it continued its work, (see link in comments). More than an hour later, the merlin had enough and flew off. That was the first merlin I had ever seen in my backyard, or at least, had noticed. Hats off to the crows for the tip-off! Keep your ears alert because nature calls.
For fans of Laura Ingalls Wilder:
All day and all night the house trembled, the winds roared and screamed, the snow scoured against the walls and over the roof where the frosty nails came through. In other houses there were people, there must be lights, but they were too far away to seem real.
...Her teeth chattered while she pulled on her clothes. Ma was dressing too, behind the curtain, but they were both too cold to say anything. They met at the stove where the fire was blazing furiously without warming the air at all. The window was a white blur of madly swirling snow. Snow had blown under the door and across the floor and every nail in the walls was white with frost.
They could hardly walk in the beating, whirling snow. The schoolhouse had disappeared. They could see nothing but swirling whiteness and snow and then a glimpse of each other, disappearing like shadows...She tried to think. The others must be somewhere ahead. She must walk faster and keep up with them or she and Carrie would be lost. If they were lost, they would freeze to death.
One of those butterflies that are usually furiously flapping their wings, I had to really bump up the shutter speed and ISO to capture this Giant's open wings at the bog recently!
This little guy is scoping out its breakfast from above love watching these guys there was 6 of them at my sisters cottage furiously trying to get as much of the bread with the bacon fat from our breakfast stored away in the trees for later These guys have a sense of knowing your out just by the smell of the smoke from wood stove within 10 minutes the trees are full of them waiting for the feeders to be filled
Called whiskey jacks by the locals up there
The common moniker “whiskey jack” has nothing to do with the grain-based alcohols, but is rather an anglicization of the Cree Wisakedjak and similar variations used by nations in the Algonquian language family, which makes the gray jay Canada's only bird commonly referred to by a traditional Indigenous name
Taken in Cochrane there pretty common up there I had 5 regulars when I had my camp up there was one that only had one leg he got around pretty good had him for 2 years up there
Furiously snapping photos before the weather turns. Many early spring flowers can survive a short cold spell but the tender magnolias are goners. We aren't in the bullseye here for the worst of it but possible hail and wind will be hard on the flowers.
Wild South Africa
Kruger National Park
The Grey Go-away bird is named for its alarm call, 'kuh-wê!', which sounds like 'go away!' and is thought to alert other species to the presence of predators or other dangers.
Although they are not adept at flying, these birds are nimble, strong climbers thanks to their uniquely adapted feet. The fourth toe can swivel around until it is near the second and third toe or right back so that it almost touches the first toe. This is a useful tool for climbing and hopping fast and furiously among the tree canopies which it inhabits.
After grooming themselves, ducks and geese often rise slightly out of the water and furiously flap their wings, putting all their ruffled feathers back in their proper place and positions.
It probably also just feels good to let off a bit of energy and to get everything back in comfortable order.
I gave the image a sepia presentation and am happy with the result. Enjoy!
Falkland steamer ducks are flightless, so it is interesting how they chase other steamer ducks. Basically, they use their short wings to do their version of the breast stroke, paddling furiously. I saw some aggression from one, and they can really move. They seem to be quite aggressive at times, with lots of the battle being performed underwater.
These are big ducks, up to 4kg. I find their plumage to be quite striking. This individual seems to be missing some feathers on its head, with patches of orange and red showing. I saw others that looked similar.
They are closely related to the flying steamer duck, which can fly, judging by its name. Both can be found on the Falkland Islands.
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Skye had always been a bit of a skeptic. When her friends suggested visiting Fairyland, a magical realm known for its flying creatures and fantastical wonders, she had rolled her eyes. But the excitement in their voices was infectious, and she couldn't resist.
As she wandered through the bustling exhibition grounds, Skye's eyes widened at the sight of dragons soaring overhead, unicorns grazing in fields of shimmering dew, and mermaids gracefully swimming in crystal-clear ponds. But nothing prepared her for what she saw next.
A group of pigs, dressed in tiny aviator suits, were lined up in front of a peculiar, aerodynamic contraption. Their snouts were twitching with anticipation, and their eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint.
"Look!" someone shouted, pointing at the pigs. "They're going to fly!"
Skye scoffed, but as the contraption whirred to life and the pigs took off, soaring into the sky with incredible grace, her jaw dropped. There, before her very eyes, were flying pigs.
The pigs performed loops, dives, and barrel rolls, their tiny wings flapping furiously. Skye watched in awe as they soared higher and higher, their squeals of delight echoing through the air.
When the pigs finally landed, Skye couldn't resist. She approached one of them, a particularly plump piglet with a cocky grin. She scratched behind its ears and asked, "So, how does it feel to be a flying pig?"
The piglet oinked happily, as if to say, "It's the best thing ever!"
From that day forward, Skye's skepticism about the magical world of Fairyland was gone. After all, she had seen pigs fly with her own eyes.
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Written using AI with my details
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My Primfeed: www.primfeed.com/skye.fairywren
Bento Mesh Head: LeLutka Avalon EVO-X
Bento Mesh body: Maitreya LaraX
Face/Body: JES (Nut) by enLight
Hair: Dolly by Alli & Ali
Ari Dress by ASH. now @ Collabor88 @ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Sylpha/92/161/21
Josephine Shoes: RealEvil
CAZIMI Blooming Blush & Millennial Lipstick
Enigma Eyes Applier: .euphoric
Hight Waisted Tights: Izzie's
Glam Nails & Rings: RealEvil
WPF Harry Hamhock: MadPea
WPF Porky von Schweinburg: MadPea
Pig Baby Farmer Animesh (Companion): [Rezz Room]
Mini airship piggy: D-Lab
The Flying Pig (car): Dove & Pear
Now Call Cute Backdrop - The Bearded Guy
POSE: Breezy 6 by aDORKABLE Poses
Background: My Own w/ AI
“Be careful where you tread when you get here.” It was one of the more unusual instructions I’d offered to the rest of the gang in advance of their arrival, but then again we’d had quite an unusual morning the previous day. It’s not every Saturday that your partner wakes you up at twenty past six to tell you there’s something interesting going on in the garden. My first response was to groan, roll over and back to sleep, but she was getting quite animated, so I grunted, crawled out of bed and joined her at the window, where half a dozen or more silent woolly white forms were slowly moving about the garden in the thick morning gloom, helping themselves to the lawn and whatever else they could find for breakfast if you please. Ironic really, given that Ali is a lifelong insomniac, and here she was counting sheep in the early twilight. Where had they come from? Who did they belong to? We live in a semi rural area and people around us keep horses. A herd of cows are often to be found in the field somewhere along the path, but neither of us had ever seen any sheep in the immediate vicinity before. I decided I better get up and try to solve the mystery. For her part, Ali crawled back into bed and promptly fell asleep. Maybe she’d been trying to count them too. There was no way of making it clearer that she’d decided this was my job to sort out.
Five minutes later I was in the garden, greeted at the door by the largest member of the invading force, who came up to my waist at least. She looked at me hopefully, although for what reason I couldn’t be sure. Already, the garden smelled like a farmyard. The first evidence that I’d engaged the brain four hours earlier than normal came when I decided it might be an idea to close the gate, before our visitors began to think they might have outstayed their welcome and headed off down the lane towards the road. For a while they stood there, waiting silently at the closed off exit, and then they trooped back to the grass to continue the free buffet. If sheep could shrug, they would have done so right now. At least they’d left the agapanthus alone. I made several attempts to count them but they kept moving and I hadn’t had my first cup of coffee yet. How many? Thirteen? No, fourteen. I phoned the police non-emergency line to report my find. Surely somebody was missing fourteen sheep? I decided not to put it on the local Faceplant group or ring Radio Cornwall - you never know what sort of lunatic you might be inviting to visit you at home you know. For now there was little else I could do. The sheep were contentedly cutting the grass for us - fertilising it too for that matter - and so I went indoors and put the kettle on before I nodded off. By now that cup of coffee was long overdue. This night owl had only been asleep for five hours and he really doesn’t function in the mornings.
Sometime later, I decided it might be an idea to wander down the lane and follow the trail, so to speak. Every few yards, a pile of evidence appeared, and there was little doubting who’d left it there. Well it was one of fourteen potential culprits at any rate. It looked as if they’d come through a neighbour’s garden, so I rang the bell. She told me she’d seen them in the field on the other side when she’d been out cutting the hedge and apparently they’d only been there a week or so. Evidently they’d become bored of their new home and decided to go on an adventure. It was a good job they’d turned right instead of left at the junction and come to the safety of our garden rather than straying onto the busy road at the end of the lane. And as I also took a right, the lady in the posh Land Rover Discovery drove past again, this time stopping by me and winding down the window. “Have you seen some sheep?” The mystery was no longer a mystery. An hour later, we were on first name terms with several leading lights of the wandering menagerie, waving them goodbye as in a horsebox converted to a mobile sheep pen, they were transported back to their field. Well, twelve of them were. They had to make a return trip for Mary and Chilly, the naughty pair who weren't so keen to go home. Temporarily separated from their tribe, the pair began bleating furiously and shot over the wall into our neighbour’s garden with an elegant grace that belied their bulky appearances. Fortunately he was away in Italy and we were feeding his cat. The sheep, at least, were feeding themselves. If nothing else, we had an unusual after dinner anecdote that would last for years.
The following evening, Dave and Lee arrived, treading carefully as they went. We had a plan for a nearby location that had been almost completely ignored by all three of us in the ten years since these outings began. I’d been here a year ago and decided it was an excellent September location, so here we were, completely ignoring the sketchy scramble to the composition I’d found twelve months earlier. Instead, in poor light we settled into our positions down by the water, occasionally retreating by a few yards as the tide raced towards us. Both brain and camera were in sixteen by nine mode, more or less, and with a scene where the wildlife in residence were entirely to be expected, I could smell a composite on the cards too. But then again, my sense of smell had been heightened over the weekend.
The following morning, a bottle of wine, chocolates and a thank you card arrived. We were told that their field had been fortified now, so further escapes were less likely, but in truth, we’d enjoyed the unexpected visit. At one point late in the morning, after the owner had set off to refashion that horsebox, we settled down in our camping chairs with cups of tea to enjoy the companionable silence of our fourteen guests. Ideally we'd have kept them a week or so - they were doing a fine job on the brambles that I’m forever losing an ongoing war against. As it is, we’ll have to get the mower out one last time before the autumn now. Unless they return in the middle of the night again soon, that is.
Just after the seasons changes on the spring equinox, feeling the fresh new season brush along your skin, the warm light fill your eyes, one should take a moment to observe the changes around you. Some significant, some small, but persistent. For the humble landscape photographer, we look for the light, a never ending quest. Most days we let go without a thought, but sometimes it calls to us when nothing should be on the horizon. A beginner may ignore those feelings deep down, even the old veterans may yet ignore the call. Those of us who venture out looking for what the world has to offer though, we’re often given a treat, something remarkable. A light shown deep into our landscapes as if pulled from fantasy books of yore, something truly mythic in proportion. The relief of the warmth, the excitement of the change from the cold and dreary to the warm and serene. For many the change is slow, barely noticeable, but for the light seekers, it’s furiously quick, like a dragon from fantasy.
Aperture: f13
ISO: 125
SS: 1/15th
Focal: 74mm
Fujinon 50-140mm
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Some folks just don't get it when I tell them I like trains. It's most difficult to put into words. They just scratch their heads, smile, and say, "Cool." This place in eastern Quebec would make them understand. All you need to do is park by the station in Cookshire and wait. Wait all day if you have to! Soon, from the west the sound of a gentle breeze is heard. It gets louder, stronger, until that wind appears round the corner in the distance. The bells clang, the horn wails, headlight blinding, and Canadian Pacific extra 4209 east roars by you at a pace that one must witness, less describe. The station appears as if it's walls will bounce from it's foundation. The 100lb jointed rail drums a steady pace so loud your ears want to pop. Pebbles bounce. Dust and blue smoke mingle together clogging your lungs. The locomotives notch it out as they slam into the sharp curve to your right and power the tonnage up the steep grade laying ahead. No less than 80 freight cars later a dirty yellow van sails by with a hand out the window waving furiously, and that too, slams into the curve to your right and vanishes into fading light of the afternoon. Once it all settles down, the earth and your heart, like an amusement park ride, you want to get on it again. You have become a rail fan.
A Northern Parula (Setophaga americana) prepares to dispatch a tiny caterpillar.
I love watching warblers hunt. They scour every surface of every leaf, twig, and bud for tiny invertebrates, and gobble them up with an impressive veracity. Once an unsuspecting insect or spider is in the grasp of the bird's beak, it will furiously shake it and bash it against a twig or branch before scarfing it down.
We drive ahead of the empty coal train and around the dirt roads along the edges of Kushoky. We know where to go, we want to reach the slag tips before the train does. The railways running is unpredictable here, we have seen trains lay over here, trains shunt, trains run straight through without stopping. This one stops. No problem. Another passes through in the opposite direction below us, and on to Nura without stopping. Our train shuts down. Hmm...The mosquitoes play with us, the sun sinks slowly but surly. Soon the track below is eclipsed by the shadow of the heaps, we climb down. Jane contacts me, she has seen a friend in Karagandy today. When shall we be back? She is hungry. We are probably, we are also distracted. She will find something without us. The locomotives remain silent. But wait, is someone climbing aboard, whoosh, the twin units burst into life, smoke is pushed skywards. But no, wait, a wagon tapper is walking the train. The sun continues to sink, only ten minutes left, maybe less. Then the loudspeakers bark, поезд...
Yes, the train is leaving! We are gesticulated at furiously, a crewman shouts down to me, are they friendly, are they not? But we have secured a picture in fine light. Our next task is to find Jane in an unfamiliar city in the dark, an hour and a half away. I can't remember what or where Sven and myself ate.
After a layover of just over an hour and a quarter at Kushoky station, 2TE10Mr-0081 of the Tranco Nura restarts it rake of empty wagons bound for the open cast coal mine at Molodezhnyy as the sun sinks down to the horizon on the last day of April 2025.
TE10 aficionados may note the old style centre headlamp casing on this early model, which is the same as that on the DR Ludmilla.
I would have preferred to be closer; I would have liked to shoot up at them rather than down. When a flurry of action like this breaks out, you just react...
At first I thought the buck on the left was going to simply pass by, but suddenly he turned and the fight was on. They went at it furiously for about 20 seconds before the deer on the right proved to be tougher. You can see the lesser buck pulling back in the middle frame, then running hard with the winner in pursuit, even striking out with front hooves while running. I've seen deer do this before - got a shot about a decade ago of a doe chasing her yearling fawn away with whacks like this. Deer society is not "nice".
The quality isn't as good here as usual, but I thought it was an interesting sequence worth sharing.
Photographed in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2020 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
Taken on Taack Road in True, here's a female Green Lynx Spider that I had interrupted while she was starting to construct a shelter in this Ashey Sunflower blossom. We had been cruising back roads north of Newcastle looking for patches of these sunflowers, a favorite of Green Lynx spiders, and many others. There was a stiff, gusty westerly wind blowing and blossoms were dancing around furiously. Any spiders aboard were getting a seriously bumpy ride. I had to use one hand to steady the blossom and work the camera with the other.
Here the spider is constructing her "hide" in a way that many Crab Spiders do... by folding over petals. The petals are anchored in position with strands of silk. Unlike a spider that I photographed earlier with my iPhone, this one objected to my attempt to hold the blossom steady and bolted for the back side of the blossom several times before I was able to get this image.
DSC-1398N-WS
Nikon D-60, Nikkor-H 85mm f/1.8 lens focused at infinity, fitted with an Iscorama anamorphic lens, with the objective salvaged from a damaged beyond repair Lentar 400mm lens reverse mounted on the Isco.
60163 'Tornado' blows off furiously as she awaits the off from Goathland, with the 13.51 Grosmont - Pickering on Sun 26th September 2021, day 4 of the NYMR Autumn Steam Gala.
After fifteen years spent in Ashland, I do not remember Ashland Creek being this full. Thanks to the heavy rains and the enormous melting snow pack, Ashland Creek is furiously rushing down hill to celebreate this great year for the earth!
Update:
During this photo session, I fell in the creek and submerged my equipment. I had nothing with me to dry my camera and lens but my bob hat. I kept taking pictures including this one, which was at the end of my photo session.
I went back home, bought a silica gel with a dispenser, put it into a 2'x1’ plastic container and placed in it my camera without battery, cards and all doors open and my extended lens. I left them there for five days, and then went for a test session. All worked well and no trace of humidity.
However, in the process, I contacted Canon and learned that it does not service this equipment anymore as its priority is for its users to upgrade to RF equipment. i get daily messages but no help!
In June, we were returning from a trip to the BC interior and decided to make a quick stop at Reifel before getting on the ferry back home. We were there for birding and hoping for some species we do not get at home. We were not that lucky in terms of bird rarities but saw this guy. This was sort of a lifer for me :) The picture was taken in June. This mink was successful at "mousing". I was low on the ground and the mink was coming in my direction with a mouse in its mouth when someone excited at the view of the mink walked into the scene. The mink turned around and ran in the opposite direction. :(
I suspect the mink had a litter in that area, she was furiously hunting and got a green "pinch beard" out of "mousing".
It ocurred to me tonight that I haven't used a laser in a while.... I had no big smoke grenades with me so here I was stood at the back of this shot furiously lighting as many smoke pellets as I could in a minute...no fingers were burnt this time!
These are not too common in my garden. Presumably it was drawn in because of the cold weather. It spent about ten minutes furiously digging at the ground beneath the hedge where it was clear of snow.
The accordion end of a jet bridge attached to a plane, featuring a furiously whirlying wind vane and a red light.
I'm still looking for them eyes / To meet me at the end of the line / Is it going to be the ones / The whole depth of the winter black / Is it going to be the ones / The whole depth of the ocean blue (Magnolia Electric Co.)
© Burgstr., Berlin, 2019, Florian Fritsch