Not for the Reddish Egret but for the hapless fish.

Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes,

Nibble their toasts and cool their tea with sighs;

Or else forget the purpose of the night,

Forget their tea, forget their appetite.

See, with crossed arms they sit — Ah! hapless crew,

The fire is going out and no one rings.

John Keats.

Tricolored Heron races across and just above the water on its way to that hapless fish he spotted almost 20 yards away.

A hapless Australian pelican, Pelecanus conspicillatus had got out of the water onto a mudflat to preen itself. Its toilette got interrupted by a swooping Australian magpie, Gymnorhina tibicen.

Australian magpies often swoop and attack people and other animals during the breeding season. Cyclists and joggers are at particular risk from aggressive magpies. I had seen a magpie in nearby small park chase off two wood ducks but I had never seen the magpie on the mudflat let alone harassing a pelican. What surprised me too is that I often spend time in the small park and magpies will come within a metre of me and show no aggression.

With hapless Leopard Frog

This is Comerica Park, home of the hapless, last-place Detroit Tigers, on a hot sunny day. Part of the downtown Detroit skyline is shown in the background.

This was the first time I'd been lucky enough to encounter a young Cuckoo being fed by its host (on this occasion a hapless Meadow Pipit). I was able to watch the behaviour for about 20 minutes. The demanding Cuckoo made a surprisingly thin begging call for such a large bird, perhaps mimicking fledglings of its host species. In any case, the Meadow Pipit was run off its feet (flown off its wings) trying to keep up, completely immersed in the deception. Image taken at Grigadale on the beautiful Ardnamurchan Peninsula in Scotland.

This heron had caught the fish, and did the typical final maneuver before downing the hapless victim.

A very famous puffer from Neil Muro's - The Para Handy Tales - a highly successful TV series in Scotland and novel. All about the hapless crew of the Vital Spark who played their trade around the Scottish Islands moving cargo of various types including Whisky to & fro to Glasgow. Much impressed with the performance of my new toy the Sigma 24mm Art Lens which seems to see more than the other lens I have been using up till now.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vital_Spark

Said the Ring-billed Gull to a hapless fish.

A semi abstract rendition of a carnivorous Oblong Leaved Sundew plant (Drosera intermedia) growing in a wetland.

The modified leaves of these carnivorous plants attract and trap insects using sticky red tipped hairs that glisten in the sun (hence the name "Sundew"). Sundews grow in bogs and fens where nitrogen essential for plant growth is typically deficient. The hapless insects once trapped by the plant are digested with enzymes to serve as a source of nitrogen rich nutrition. The modified leaves have a total length (with stalk) of about 1-3 cm. Oblong Leaved Sundew is widely distributed and is native to parts of Europe and the Americas.

West Quebec, Canada

Olympus EM1 and 60 mm f2.8 lens

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Web of Lies shimmering beauty leading to disaster and slow death for any hapless insect who visits it, shot in North Carolina.

The amazing thing about this location was not the thousands - and thousands upon thousands - of bats that began flying out from behind me down this gorge as soon as dusk came.

It was about the freshwater crocodiles that had been lined up on the sandy bank sunning themselves before dusk.

As soon as dusk came, the crocs moved altogether into the water and then lurked motionless just below the surface. Occaisonally a hapless bat would dive down for a sip of water. And SNAP! Bat dinner! Sometimes the crocs would even launch themselves out of the water to grab bats that were just near the surface.

Suffice it to say I was totally unprepared for this spectacle. No forewarning, no tripod, no flash, not even a torch. And I was there for one night only.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Thank you for visiting my photo stream.

Aphrodite was the Olympian goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation.

She was depicted as a beautiful woman often accompanied by the winged godling Eros (Love).

Her attributes included a dove, apple and a swan, as representation of her beauty .

In mythology, Aphrodite is cited as partly responsible for the Trojan War. At the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, Eris (goddess of strife) offered a golden apple for the most beautiful goddess. Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite vied for the honour, and Zeus appointed the Trojan prince Paris as judge. To influence his decision, Athena promised him strength and invincibility, Hera offered the regions of Asia and Europe, and Aphrodite offered the most beautiful woman in the world. Paris chose Aphrodite and so the victorious goddess gave him fair Helen of Sparta. However, as she was already the wife of Menelaos, Paris's abduction of Helen provoked the Spartan king to enlist the assistance of his brother Agamemnon and send an expedition to Troy to take back Helen.

Hesiod describes the goddess as 'quick-glancing', 'foam-born', 'smile-loving', and most often as 'golden Aphrodite'. Similarly, in Homer's description of the Trojan War in the Iliad, she is described as 'golden' and 'smiling' and supports the Trojans in the war. In notable episodes, Aphrodite protects her son Aeneas from Diomedes and saves the hapless Paris from the wrath of Menelaos.

I took a walk on a path on Cottonwood Pass (12,152 feet) and came across this hapless solitary bee. It had been foraging the previous afternoon but was trapped by plummeting temperatures at the end of the day. Unable to fly, it spent the night on the flower, and in the mid morning the temperature had still not climbed enough for this bee to start shivering and then warm up its flight muscles.

So I could take my sweet time getting this shot right. And it occurred to me that the bee was susceptible to any of the birds that spotted it.

The loggerhead shrike, Lanius ludovicianus, looks like just another songbird. Intimidatig it ain't. That is until you get a close look at the curved beak and the idea pops into your brain that something else must going on with this bird.

And you'd be right. Despite its relatively diminutive size, the loggerhead shrike is a bird of prey as well as a songbird. Despite its lack of stature, it is able to carry prey as big as itself. It has a body length of about nine or 10 inches and wingspan of about a foot. It is a gray bird, with a black mask, black wings with a white patch and a black tail. Its bill is short, curved raptor-like at the tip but it doesn't have raptor-like talons. It does have extraordinary eyesight that enables it to spot a grasshopper — a favorite food — at 70 yards.

The loggerhead is a year-round resident of Florida as well as much of the southern and central United States. There are also migratory populations that spend the summer farther north into Canada and winter in parts of Texas and Mexico.

It lives in open places with a few trees or shrubs for perching, or in forests with open areas adjacent. It's particularly fond of trees and shrubs with thorns or spines, which serve two purposes, one obvious, the other not so much. It tends to perch on posts, signs, fences, barbed wire and in trees and shrubs, where it scans for a meal, which might be a bug, a bird, a reptile or a rodent. When it sees a tasty meal, it will swoop down, perhaps hover for a second and hit its target. Small prey will be eaten right away; larger items will be hauled off to a thorny tree or shrub, where the hapless victim is impaled and stored to be eaten at a later date. That habit allows loggerheads to eat prey, like monarch butterflies, that would be poisonous to other animals. Storing the meal allows volatile poisons to break down into harmless substances. Loggerheads are one of the few animals able to eat the otherwise toxic eastern lubber grasshopper. It eats the head and abdomen while tossing away the poisonous thorax.

I found this one along Joe Overstreet Road in Osceola County, Florida.

A slug having feasted extensively on a hapless mushroom (Mycena arcangeliana) hangs around for a while before leaving in pursuit of fresh dining opportunities.

Question: How does the slug reach the ground?

East Quebec, Canada

Camera: Olympus EM5 MkII

Lens: Meyer Optik Görlitz Oreston 50/1.8 (early twin zebra; M42)

P9220699

---------- Part 2 coming soon ------------

For a short while, I had the company of an alligator about 3 feet / 1 meter long. I thought it would be nice to get a shot of her. A 105mm lens is not a very good lens for photographing wildlife, though. Especially wildlife that you really don't care to get particularly close to. She also seemed very wary, eyes just above the water and always keeping her distance. About 5 minutes later, there was a major splash out in the lake as she got the better of some hapless critter for breakfast. Low ISO landscape exposure settings are very poor for capturing wildlife action. So, all I can show you is the leftover ripples.

Thanks for stopping by!

We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives..... other souls.

~Anaïs Nin

I'm guessing this song sparrow is still feeding a few youngsters in the nest since it didn't immediately gobble up that hapless field cricket.

A follow-up to a previous shot

This Kestrel wasn't going to give up easily

But neither was the owl

Transferring the hapless vole to it's mouth (releasing its claws for offensive/defensive duties) the aerial dogfight continued

That look of determination on the owls face telling you all you needed to know... he wasn't going to give up his well earned lunch without a fight!

(Haunted Christmas Series No.5)

"Dark fall the hours this winter-tide,

Strange silence reigns on every side,

And day seems wrapped in gloom,

Save few short hours, which, all too brief,

Light up bare tree and fallen leaf,

Then fade in hapless doom.

Now let each lamp be burning bright,

Lest, unaware, the sudden night

Enshroud us in the dark,

And we in vain, through snow and cold,

With wavering feet, seek out the fold,

And Love’s all sheltering ark."

-William Chatterton Dix, 1871, England

(Agelena labyrinthica) I have been watching this spider for a couple of weeks now. She is quite successful with her large web and retreat. This hapless bee initially only had one leg caught but could not escape before she came along and started dragging her down to her 'funnel'. If you look closely you can see the bee has a drop of venom on the end of her stinger but it did her no good sadly....

These pale green assassin bugs are beautiful but deadly predators on other bugs they find in the forest. Amazingly, they can produce glue from glands on their front leg to lay sticky traps on the leaves and then sit back and wait for a hapless bug to get stuck there. They then stab said prey with a long needle-like beak and inject enzymes into the captured insect to dissolve its insides - sucked out then through that "straw" like a milkshake. Something to think about next time you visit the local soda shop.

The shadow of the vole on barnies wing makes this shot for me.

A very quick fly past showing the brutality of a barnie kill.

Not great for the hapless vole, but a welcome treat for the waiting youngsters.

Sadly this year vole numbers are down and the owls as a result are struggling.

Barn owl (Tyto alba)

Yorkshire Dales - Upper Barn male

Many thanks to all those who take the time to comment on my photos. It is truly appreciated.

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A gray fox stopped by my campsite in Boot Canyon, gave me the once-over, then looked skyward for divine guidance. The apparent response was to just move on along and let the hapless biped fend for himself. Big Bend National Park, Brewster County, Texas.

This is a scene I normally see on a regular basis.

You can see clearly in this shot the damage inflicted by the owls powerful talons on it's hapless prey.

Sadly this year vole numbers have plummeted and kills are few and far between.

Hopefully the owls will pull through.

Barn owl (Tyto alba)

Yorkshire Dales - Upper Barn male

Many thanks to all those who take the time to comment on my photos. It is truly appreciated.

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Time passes slowly here on the grounds of a former state hospital for the incurable insane. Long forgotten by a busy world, these humble people lie resting from their labors and torments awaiting the dawning of another age. The wind blows softly through the grass as the summer insects begin to sing a chorus with their beautiful songs. Perhaps they remember the events that unfolded here so long ago. A mute man whose name nobody knew used to hand dig these graves. Eventually he was given the name A. Bookbinder because of the work he did at the hospital of rebinding books. Old Book, as he was affectionately called by the doctors and nurses of the asylum, was in the habit of laying his shovel aside as they interred a body and he would begin crying profusely and wailing aloud for the deceased as he leaned against this old elm tree. The day eventually came when Old Book himself died and was laid to rest. As they lowered the casket into the grave the multitude standing by in reverent silence saw an apparition suddenly appear leaning against the old elm … it was wailing. Over the years many people have claimed to hear the sound of someone wailing when visiting the graveyard. Old Book is still crying for the hapless people buried here.

This remarkable large ichneumon wasp doesn't have a common name, but at least we don't have to worry about getting stung by one, unless we're a fall webworm caterpillar. Females invade the silk tents of fall webworm caterpillars that are often found on walnut trees here in autumn, where she sticks her ovipositor (stinger) into a hapless caterpillar and lays an egg. The doomed caterpillar still spins a cocoon after development, but a new ichneumon wasp that looks like this emerges next summer - not a fluffy white moth. This male wasp is totally harmless and feeds on flower nectar or fresh sap flowing from a wounded tree.

Crataegus monogyna, known as common hawthorn, oneseed hawthorn, or single-seeded hawthorn, is a species of flowering plant in the rose family Rosaceae. It is native to Europe, northwestern Africa and West Asia, but has been introduced in many other parts of the world.

Other common names include may, mayblossom, maythorn, quickthorn, whitethorn, motherdie, and haw.

This species is one of several that have been referred to as Crataegus oxyacantha, a name that has been rejected by the botanical community as too ambiguous. In 1793, Medikus published the name C. apiifolia for a European hawthorn now included in C. monogyna, but that name is illegitimate under the rules of botanical nomenclature

Mythology and folklore of hawthorn.

In Gaelic this thorny shrub is known as sgitheach. Thomas the Rhymer, the thirteenth century Scottish mystic and poet met the Faery Queen by a hawthorn from which a cuckoo was calling. She led him into the Faery Underworld for a brief sojourn. Upon reemerging into the world of mortals he found he had been absent for seven years. Similar themes are common in Celtic mythology.

The hawthorn was one of, if not the, most likely tree to be inhabited or protected by the Wee Folk. In Ireland most of the isolated trees, or ‘lone bushes’, in the landscape and said to be inhabited by faeries, were hawthorn trees. Such trees could not be cut damaged in any way without incurring the often fatal wrath of their supernatural guardians. The Faery Queen by her hawthorn can also be seen as a representation of a pre-Christian archetype. She reminds us of a Goddess-centred worship, practised by priestesses in sacred groves of hawthorn. The site of Westminster Abbey was once called Thorney Island after the sacred stand of thorn trees there.

Hawthorn is at its most prominent in the landscape when it blossoms during May. One of the most popular of its many vernacular names is the May-tree. As such, it is the only British plant which is named after the month in which it blooms. ‘Thorn’ it is also the most common tree found in English place names. It is the tree most frequently mentioned in Anglo-Saxon boundary charters. It has many associations with May Day festivities. Though the tree now flowers around the middle of the month, it flowered much nearer the beginning of the month. This was before the introduction of the Gregorian calendar in 1752.

People used the blossoms for garlands. They also cut leafy branches and set them in the ground outside houses. These so-called May bushes were decorated with local wildflowers. Using the blossoms for decorations outside was allowed. But there was a strong taboo against bringing hawthorn into the house. In the early 1980s the Folklore Society’s survey of ‘unlucky’ plants revealed that 23% of the items referred to hawthorn. This was more than twice as many instances as the second most unlucky plant. Across Britain there was the belief that bringing hawthorn blossom into the house would lead to illness and death. Adults would scold hapless children for innocently decorating the home with the flowers.

Medieval folk also asserted that the smell of hawthorn blossom was just like the smell of the Great Plague in London. Botanists later discovered the reason for this. The chemical trimethylamine present in hawthorn blossom is also formed in decaying animal tissue. In the past, when corpses were in the house for several days before burial, people would have been very familiar with the smell of death. So it is hardly surprising that hawthorn blossom was so unwelcome in the house.

It is possible that some hawthorn folklore may have originated for the related Midland hawthorn. The latter tree may well have been commoner during the early Middle Ages. Midland hawthorn blossom gives off much more of an unpleasant scent of death soon after it is cut. It also blooms slightly earlier than hawthorn. Its blossoms would therefore have been more reliably available for May Day celebrations.

In spite of the above taboo, the leaves were eaten and were commonly referred to as bread and cheese. People used the blossom and berries to make wines and jellies. Decoctions of the flowers and leaves were also used to stabilise blood pressure. The strong, close-grained wood is good for carving and people used it for making tool handles and other small household items. Probably its greatest practical use to people has been as hedging.

Britain’s most famous hawthorn is the Holy Thorn of Glastonbury. Legend tells of how Joseph of Arimathea, the uncle of the Virgin Mary, arrived at a hill overlooking Glastonbury Tor. With him were a few disciples and two sacred vessels containing the blood and sweat of Jesus. Where he thrust his staff into the ground it sprouted and grew into a thorn tree. Though the original is obviously not there any more, one of its supposed descendants does still stand on the hill. Other offspring grown from cuttings can be found around Glastonbury and further afield. This particular hawthorn blooms twice a year, once in May and again around Christmas. A sprig of one of these Glastonbury thorns from outside St Johns Church is traditionally sent to the Queen. She is said to decorate her breakfast table with it on Christmas morning.

To celebrate 4M views. Many thanks to all those who have supported me over the years.

Another shot froma very quick fly past, again showing the brutality of a barnie kill.

Not great for the hapless vole, but a welcome treat for the waiting youngsters.

Sadly this year vole numbers are down and the owls as a result are struggling.

Barn owl (Tyto alba)

Yorkshire Dales - Upper Barn male

Many thanks to all those who take the time to comment on my photos. It is truly appreciated.

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It was a real treat to see this remarkable male black giant icheumonid wasp out in the woods today. He is one of the largest wasps in the Driftless region. Lucky for us, he can't sting and is totally harmless. His female mate that is almost all black in color would be even more amazing to see, however, since she sports a "stinger" that's five inches long and could probably stab right into your heart if she cared to. She's more likely to drill that ovipositor into a dead tree though and lay her eggs on hapless pigeon horntail (another type of large wasp) larvae that will be eaten by her larvae when those eggs hatch out.

That's what one would think by looking at these two photos. In reality the photo on the left was taken at 1:35 PM and the one on the right was taken at 4:34 PM - for three hours nothing, absolutely nothing, changed in owl's posture; only things that changed were my position on the ground and the position of the sun in the sky. Two days earlier a Red morphed Screech Owl was seen together with this Gray morphed one in the same hole - a very unique scene. On this day the red was a no-show and this one didn't even open its eyes to take a glimpse of the misery of the hapless bird watchers. Yes, that's how it goes most of the time. Burlington, Ontario.

This eastern ant-queen kidnapper wasp is waiting for some newly-developed ant queens (with wings) to emerge from an underground ant colony and disperse across the landscape to start fresh ant colonies. However, if this ant-queen kidnapper has its way that ant survival strategy won't happen. This female ant-queen kidnapper catches those flying ant queens and carries them back to her nest burrow dug down about a foot deep in soft sandy soil. She pulls the wings off the ant queens and paralyzes them so they can't get away and then piles the hapless ant queens in a special catacomb until she has enough ants to feed her babies when they hatch from eggs. This ant-caching process could take several days since winged ant queens only emerge sporadically from colonies. When she's got an ample ant supply, the female ant-queen kidnapper moves three ants to a nearby brood chamber, lays an egg on one ant and seals the entrance - making as many brood chambers as she can fill with ants and eggs. Next summer several eastern ant-queen kidnappers should emerge from their hidden underground home.

Spring woods.

This was taken in March at a bird reserve in Cambridge. I just love the complex tracery of the branches.

For the Crazy Tuesday group's Silhouette theme.

Silhouette is a word I struggle to spell. Why not write it silohoot? I know it's French, but just remember Agincourt OK? [Our hapless commentator ducks and runs...]

Converted to B&W and toned for my 100x challenge...

Thank you for taking the time to look. I hope you enjoy the image. Happy Crazy Tuesday and 100x. :)))

In darkness let me dwell; the ground shall sorrow be,

The roof despair, to bar all cheerful light from me;

The walls of marble black, that moist'ned still shall weep;

My music, hellish jarring sounds, to banish friendly sleep.

Thus, wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tomb,

O let me living die, till death doth come, till death doth come.

My dainties grief shall be, and tears my poisoned wine,

My sighs the air through which my panting heart shall pine,

My robes my mind shall suit exceeding blackest night,

My study shall be tragic thoughts sad fancy to delight,

Pale ghosts and frightful shades shall my acquaintance be:

O thus, my hapless joy, I haste to thee.

Well, not really under the microscope, but actually sitting on its web, patiently waiting for some hapless fly, moth, or bug to become ensnared and be finished off for supper.

Simply some creative editing to make it appear as if the spider is on a glass slide and that you are peering down onto it, circa 6th grade science class :)

Stranded fish and an inconveniently located large fish eating bird looking for its dinner!

Unbelievably things got even worse for the hapless fish as you'll see from future uploads

In fact you'll never guess how this story ended

The shock of capture is a military term but it seems an appropriate description for the expression of this hapless sprat shortly after being caught by a female juvenile common kingfisher.

I think it has a poor hapless damselfly in its beak.

the hapless gadwall duck is allowed no rest on the pond by this enraged swan...best in Large size...

Oystercatchers don’t just eat shellfish and worms, they are very partial to crustaceans too. I watched this one searching along the shoreline when it found a crab. It immediately carried it up the beach a little, to get away from the water and weed, to ensure that it didn’t lose it. The Oystercatcher then disabled the shore crab by pulling it’s legs off and stood over it’s prize, calling quietly for several seconds, seemingly very pleased with itself. I took my opportunity of a photograph just before the hapless crab was eaten.

Thank you for having a look at my photos. Comments or faves are very welcome and much appreciated.

Picture, if you will, a quaint scene from Mother Nature’s grand design. On the surface, it’s the simple, heartwarming image of a song sparrow mother dutifully tending to her youngster. But look closer and you'll find that not all is as it seems.

This unassuming fledgling is not her offspring--but an imposter. He hails not from the sparrow lineage, but rather, is the young scion of a brown-headed cowbird clan. He is a creature born not from the bonds of familial love, but from a dark grift hatched in the sinister alleyways of the animal kingdom.

Deftly perpetrating his ruse, this fledgling cowbird has hoodwinked his foster mother into a misplaced display of parental care. His call is not a melody of innocent hunger, but a siren tweet--drawing the hapless sparrow into an intricate dance of survival and deceit.

Such is life upon this sylvan stage, where the line between victim and perpetrator blurs, where innocence is lost amidst the rustle of feathers, and where the laws of nature unfold not in black and white, but in the unforgiving grays of ... the Flylight Zone.

Hiking along one of my local park trails, I came on two Turkey Vultures over a fallen American Coot carcass. The compassion I could have had for the hapless coot was not there since I didn't see it go down or how it met its demise. I think it might have fallen to a Red-tailed hawk as I had seen one earlier fly over with a dirty feathered beak. And a Red-tailed Hawk buzzed the two vultures while I watched. So, here's one of the cleanup crew in action with the poor coot swinging a bit like one of Ventriloquist Jeff Dunham's characters.

Yaquina Head Natural Area. Newport, Oregon.

Grey Heron, and, hapless, helpless, frog........

One of a series of shots taken a few weeks ago, with this Heron making most of some unfortunate frogs.

The sun has not shined long enough to warm the air to temperatures north of -20. It's a typical February morning in the wilds of northern Minnesota, oppressively frigid, unbearably bitter, so cold that any patch of skin hapless to be exposed tingles with a burning that chills clear to the bone. But though daylight is only at its onset, Proctor is already bustling, indicative of the never-ending procession of rolling steel wheels on steel rails out of the Iron Range required to sustain the production of steel. Recently rolled taconite pellets, rich with moisture and warmth from furnaces in the north, quarrel with the deeply freezing air molecules to assemble a sheathing layer of steam a couple dozen feet above the snow covered grounds of the yard. A similar sensation is generated from hot diesel exhaust belched from the stacks of sedulous locomotives, each engaged in a task that keeps the transportation of ore flowing. Soon the elevating sun will warm the -20 degree air to more tolerable levels, but even with the radiant energy from the sun's glow, the ultimate high will be hard pressed to escape the negatives on this rugged winter day.

Slinging fairly large and heavy glass, I couldn't quite keep up with the action as Tropical Kingbird closed in and overtook the hapless mayfly above the Palo Alto Battlefield, but most assuredly, there was no escape.