View allAll Photos Tagged Hefty,
The Hamilton turn heads back to Queensgate with a pair of 80's spartan cabs and a rather hefty train. The NS has its share of grade, so the conversation was brought up by the LA Dispatcher before they departed. "You guy's have enough power to make the NS?" The crew replies "Yeah, we should.. If it works." Even with a handbrake mid train, the ole gals got the job done without a hiccup.
This photo was taken just under two years ago, but I've only just managed to get it developed and scanned. It was shot on a borrowed Pentax 6x7, with a 105mm lens, and medium format film. I fell instantly in love with that camera, despite the hefty cost of each individual photograph.
More like this on the way.
We had a hefty snowstorm in two iterations a week ago. This series was taken in the second day of snowfall. About the only time I see these is when there's a fair amount of snow on the ground.
Huge coucal with a hefty bill. The head often looks black, but can show a blue sheen. Found close to water in marshes, swamps, and wet scrub. Fairly skulking, though occasionally seen in the open. Massive size is obvious in flight. The call is a slow, deep version of the typical coucal descending and accelerating series of “boop” notes. Very similar to Coppery-tailed Coucal, but there is virtually no overlap in range, and Blue-headed is smaller, with a blue sheen to the head. Similar coloration to Senegal Coucal, but much larger. (eBird)
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Like many cuckoos, Coucals are shy and can be hard to find although they are easily heard. i got lucky with this one as I was partially hidden behind some shrubs. When I moved to get a better shot, he was gone.
Sagyimase, Ghana. March 2019.
Ashanti African Tours.
indulge me, friends.
here are my little fatties, bacchus (the mildy vigilant one) and kali (the snoozing one). pure american mutts, like myself. theyve got a few dna snips of boxer, pit, and lab in them. a tender 9 weeks old now, they doodle around the yard, shite wherever their bowels whim, and howl like damned when you leave their line of sight. i love em. their father weighed in at a hefty 174 lbs and an uncle pulled 240 lbs. they will be big dogs one day. theyve figured out the art of the sit, they get come (mostly), and they squirm like happiness when you come thru door. bacchus is the more contemplative one. he's got soulful eyes and takes his time (except with the dinner bowl), kali - which means among other things, She Who is Black or The Devourer of Time, is a step more intrepid. she's the smarter one of the pair, and though he has a few pounds on her, she consistently figures some new judo to toss him over for a gnawing.
anyways, im blathering. i just wanted to share our new dogs. forgive me for the unforgiveable sin of puppy posting.
cheers all.
OSR 383 an ex. SOO Line GP7 and F unit company charge through Belmont Ontario with a hefty train for Messenger Freight and CN in St. Thomas.
01/02/2020
OSR St. Thomas Job
OSR 383 / OSR 1401
Belmont ON.
CP / OSR St. Thomas Sub
The CP's Kansas City Sub crosses over three trestles spanning the rolling hills of southeastern Monroe County. Two of the trestles are located at a point known as Foster, a few miles east of Moravia. The middle trestle was built somewhere around 1938 over Soap Creek and is 965 feet long. Here the southbound The St. Paul, MN, to Shreveport, LA, manifest train rolls over the bridge with a hefty locomotive consist of 7 units in the light rain.
Two weeks after the last picture was taken, I'm held at the same place (behind the ranch crossing) and I step off the lead unit, SD40-2 7107, on my 13Y88 coal train to observe the eastbound freight #74 (Seattle to KC I believe) as it runs through the siding around us, with a hefty power set of U30c, SD40-2, U33c in the lead (5810-7110-5759.) Yes, it's in the siding. On the Alliance Division at that time, most of the 112lb. jointed rail was still in place on the main, while new, rebuilt or extended sidings got the heavier welded rail before the mainline was re-laid. The frustration of having a freight with good power was that you often just puddled along behind a fleet of coal trains. Today the dispatcher has found a way to weave the freight around the coal trains, possible because this is one train that can "solo the Hill", meaning it won't need helpers to surmount the 1.55% grade from Crawford to Belmont. That's one less train on his or her sheet and out of the way.
At least Dragonhunters are flying! This one was surveying his kingdom. As apex predators, there's usually one at a location. Usually considered the largest dragonfly in North America (a good 3.5" long), but some others flying now are just as long. Just not as hefty!
These are the photographic conditions that I'm really after when I go out for "organized", outdoors photo-shootng activities ... I personally consider the above seen shot one of the best that ever came out of my D90's sensor ...
We are looking at River Nestos, the part of it that crosses the Prefecture of Drama, on a misty, wet but not so cold morning of late October 2013 ... I habitually visit this place, it is one of my favourites, but I had never been bumped into similar weather conditions over that area ... This time the river welcomed me in rather high spirits !!!
The atmosphere was misty but the sun's light was intensely diffused through the surface cloud and the glare was hefty ... I was after an all around sharp shot and to desperately avoid overexposed results so I set my aperture value to f 11 and started experimenting with relatively high shutter speeds seeking for winning the battle over glare ...
The shutter speed that managed to capture the cloud's movements around the trees without sacrificing front-line detai was 1/800 s ....
But in any case I firmly stand behind the opinion that my beloved HDR processing is to "blame" for the final aesthetic result !!!!
EXIF: NIKON D90 DSLR with Nikon Nikkor 18 - 55 lens, Manual mode, f 11, ISO 200, focal length 45 mm, manual exposure selection, auto-focusing mode, cloudy weather white balance adjustments, pattern metering mode, shutter speed 1/800 s, HDR processing was made after a single RAW frame, exact lighting conditions are successfully conveyed to the viewer, no tripod, no flash, original RAW image dimensions 4288 X 2848 pixels ....
© Copyright - All rights reserved
A seven-motor westbound manifest runs around another NTW bound manifest following a hefty wait at Park Jct. Even then, this westbound would end up sitting on its main at Uni, thus completely blocking off the St. Paul Sub for some time.
I need some inspiration, what better than to trawl through flickr and if that doesn’t do it, then it’s over to hard copy.
In this case The Great Life Photographers, hefty tome, well printed and showcasing fabulous photography such as this 1952 image of Suzy Parker modelling the ‘Siren Look’, shot by Milton Greene.
Taken on Olympus EM1.3 and vintage Canon FD 50mm f1.4 lens.
Alas, flicking the pages only serves to bring one to the edge of despair due to the realisation that one hasn’t the necessary talent, time or access to models (the OH would snap my neck like a twig 😂)
The Iowa Northern's North Crew slowly rolls south on the Manly Sub outside of Rock Falls. The crew will stop and do work at Nora Springs (Stouffer) in a few miles. The train is getting hefty as the crew will be around 80 cars leaving Nora bound for the next stop at Butler, and then onto Waterloo.
The Wilkinson Pioneer Park on the right was closed due to the snow, but a cool old covered bridge sits along the Shell Rock River. This is bridge #2 since the original was built in 1969, modeled after the covered bridges in Madison County near Winterset, IA. Too bad trees are getting too bad to get anything decent with the trains. Need a good tornado to whip out some trees.
We did pretty well on our October trip to Michigan. One thing we left on the table was the GLC. Crews spent most of the week switching cars for hours on end at Owosso before departing, which made for some missed opportunities. Here one chase we gave was this job sporting 3 beautiful ex-Pen Central GP 38's on the way south towards Ann Arbor. The job passes thru Cohoctah with a hefty train mainly bound for the CSX at Howell.
No strangers to the east end of the TP&W system, the TPW 5009 and MQT 3407 are once again in charge of a hefty train headed east for Logansport on a muggy June afternoon. In the foreground is the Davis Cemetery.
CSX O717 works SALCO on recently relaid stick rail. GP40-2 #6088 is in charge of the hefty train of cars for SALCO and Sentry. World famous East Rail district...
I was surprised this little Araniella sp, spider was able to take down a honey bee. The bee was hanging on the end of a long (approx 1 metre) strand of silk. The spider kept bolting back up into the buddleia bush and then returning to its victim.
In the garden, North Bournemouth, UK.
Thanks for looking.
Album - Arachnids
The town of Trondheim lies along the Nidelva river, and it is there you find the old and colourful wooden warehouses. Nowadays mostly restaurants, bars, etc. After a hefty snowfall the sky cleared (see earlier photograph) and later the clouds came in and gave a new view of the riverfront.
Under the auspices and financing of then Emperor Ferdinand 1 of Austria (1793-1875, emperor until his abdication in 1848), the Austrian geologist and engineer Joseph Russegger (1802-1863) between 1836 and 1841 undertook a scientific expedition through Asia Minor, the Near East and northern Africa (including parts of the Sudan). He published his adventures in four hefty volumes (they make for a fine read!) and the botanical appendix was provided by Eduard Fenzl (1808-1879), director of the Imperial Botanical Cabinet at Vienna. Fenzl worked with the plants collected by one of Russegger's companions, intrepid Karl Georg Theodor Kotschy (1813-1866), whom I've several times earlier mentioned in these pages.
In present-day Turkey not far from Mersin, near the Cilician Gates - well-known to any classical scholar or military historian - Kotschy must've been quite surprised to find this flower 'in montibus Tauri occidentalis circa Gülek' (the Cilician Gates are also known as the Gülek Pass). It's a Pelargonium! One of the very few of that race of flowers which grows naturally outside of southern Africa and moreover in a very harsh climate.
The photo shows a flower with the stamenite masculine principle on the left and the pistilate feminine on the right.
I don't know whether it was Kotschy himself or rather Fenzl who named it (1841) for Stephan Ladislaus Endlicher (1804-1849), director of the Botanical Garden at Vienna. Likely it was Fenzl given institutional favoritisms.
If you get down to reading Russegger's fascinating and sometimes blood-curdling travelogue you might be surprised that he hardly ever mentions his travel companions but waxes long and eloquent on his own emotions during manifold adventures. Possibly he was rather an egotist... perhaps necessary for such an endeavor.
Large tanager with a hefty bill. Adult males are completely red; immature males are dull yellow-olive with blotchy patches of red. Females are variable in color, ranging from pale dull yellow to brighter orange. Can be confused with female Scarlet Tanager; Summer has a longer, paler bill and less contrast between wing and body color. Also compare with dustier-looking, stouter-billed Hepatic Tanager. Breeds in mature forests, favoring mixed deciduous and pine in the southeastern U.S. and riparian corridors in the western U.S. and northern Mexico. Extensive winter range from Mexico to Bolivia, where it can be found in any wooded area. Often gives a short, descending rattle “pit-a-tuck.”
The very large bear emerged from the hedge row and seemed disorientated. As he looked at me I noticed he is missing his right eye, is scared and his ears torn. Right now NC bears are getting ready for the summer breeding. Males will contend for territory and breeding rights, large bores ay occasionally fight and run off smaller males. I can only think this large, older bore met a hefty opponent.
St. Maries River Railroad's Plummer Turn winds it's way through the northwestern Idaho mountains as it nears the terminus of the run to Plummer, where it will hand off its hefty train of loads for an equally as long cut of empties bound for the forestry product industries of St. Maries.
Three nice orange matching geeps lead a hefty Belt job up and over the Blue Bridge on a lovely November day.
Today (March 15, 2017) looks a lot like this scene here from a couple years ago since a recent northeastern storm has dumped hefty amounts of snow in central New York state. Here we see the Ontario Midland plowing through on their way south to hook cars at the CSX interchange in Newark, NY.
The 841 Bozeman Local is getting up to speed after being on a slow at Manhattan with MRL 406/405 giving it all they got with a hefty train on the drawbar for Logan this evening.
May 19, 2024
Behind a trio of former Seaboard System SD40s, L411 curves through Covington with a hefty cut of cars for Worthville.
Work began on the Cathedral in 1220 and it was built using 60,000 tones of stone, 2,800 tonnes of oak and 420 tonnes of lead. The Cathedral boasts the tallest spire, standing 123m tall and weighing a hefty 6,500 tonnes. The chapter house houses one of only four remaining original copies of the Magna Carta and the one that is best preserved. Magna Carta (meaning 'great charter' in Latin) is a legal document written in 1215, about the rights of th English people against the severe rule of King John. It describes ideas of freedom and justice that are still relevant today. In 1991, Salisbury became the first English cathedral to establish a fully professional choir of girl choristers.
I got here before sunrise and waited for the sun to come up. Was it worth it?
For whatever this is worth, this is a composite done with two exposures, plus a hefty dose of editing in post putting them together. All for that lighting, yo
Also I only just noticed today that all my RDR2 photos had a typo in them which has since been corrected. I've always known there's a t in redemption, I'm just a careless typist when I'm off the clock
It's been over a week since my last post. Sorry about that. A combination of work pressures, wonderful weekend weather and late evenings out with the camera have combined to reduce my output in these and other pages. Normal service, whatever that is, will be resumed eventually.
Meanwhile, Saturday evening took us up the coast to Bedruthan Steps, a place where giant rocks inhabit the beach and stare out to sea with a watchful gaze. The beach itself is inaccessible at present. Little did we know that a hefty chunk of cliff had slid down onto the beach during the winter. I suspect the National Trust, who own the place have probably had other issues to worry about in recent months, much as we all have, so it seems unlikely that the beach will be open for some time now. It's a shame as I had another idea for a low tide visit - but that will have to wait.
It's also a reminder of how dangerous the coast is around here, with almost vertical and unstable cliffs, promising a permanent end if you happen to be standing in the wrong place at an inopportune moment.
One distinct plus point is that although a small and steady stream of visitors pass by here, taking selfies in front of the scene and pausing for a moment to enjoy the view, not many of them linger because there's little to do when you can't get onto the beach. We ate our pasta and watched as the groups of onlookers arrived and went, before eventually earning the place to ourselves as the golden hour set in. Patience usually pays off in the end.
It's a splendid location as long as you're careful along those crumbling cliff edges. So good in fact that the camera stayed on the tripod until just before 10:30, long after the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, leaving an orange glow behind it.
Milu was sitting on the arm of my chair and I couldn't resist her sweet fuzzy face. Her health is up and down these days. Her thyroid meds were increased a couple of weeks ago and the vet had suggested we feed her oily tuna frequently to keep her bowel movements regular. On her bad days there is no way that you can get her to take her tablet as she ignores all food and just goes upstairs and sleeps on my bed all day. On the good days she is always downstairs on the back of the sofa or the arm of my chair and will beg for treats as well as her own food. At the moment there are more good days than bad ones. She only weighs 3 kilos. You can imagine how tiny she looks beside fat boy Kaiser who weighs in at a hefty 7 kilos. She is 16 years old so not too bad for her age.
It is still freezing over here with temperatures around minus 3 every night. Luckily we are heading for warmer weather next week
The last couple days the fog has set in around the Waterloo area. Nice white trees make for a sweet backdrop as the daily Waterloo to Kirk Yard manifest begins the trek east. Here the train rolls thru Raymond only 7 miles east of Waterloo with a unusual hefty consist.
....and my longest exposure. Very happy with this shot but it was nearly my last with this lens. A few minutes later while attempting to take a shot from another spot I came under attack form some local youths. One hefty stone must have missed my camera by less than a foot. Bring on the winter so these morons can crawl back to there pit.
"scuse me mate, do you know what bird that is please?"
The man in the running gear was addressing me it seemed. I'd been frowning at the tuft of sea thrift in front of me and wondering whether the composition I was trying was ever really going to work. Ali's sister had requested sea thrift before the lighthouse and an orange sky. She'd seen one I'd taken six years earlier, but it wasn't up to scratch for her living room wall as far as I was concerned. The mood of that June 2015 picture was exactly what was needed, but I hadn't yet learned why my histogram was worth looking at and the image was full of shadows that could never be recovered, even if I had kept the raw file. At that time focus stacking was something I'd heard Lee talking about, but it all sounded far too complicated for my tiny brain. As for now, ingredients one and two were ready, but the sky was an uninspiring washed out blue. Of course I could use Photoshop's sky replacement tool, but we don't do that here - and not just because I don't understand how to use it.
"It's a Hobby," I replied, surprised to see the small raptor hovering low overhead us, just a few yards away. "Or possibly a Merlin," I offered less confidently, trying to remember how to distinguish them from one another and knowing that this lack of certainty was leaving my assertions open to scrutiny. I wondered how long it had been there, absorbed in sea thrift related confusion as I was. "Ah, I was hoping it was a Peregrine Falcon. I've never seen one before you see." I could sense the disappointment in his voice at the news that his search would have to continue, offering the intelligence that I'd seen them now and again along the clifftops at the most westerly edges of the county near Land's End. "Peregrines are a bit bigger than this one I'm afraid." He thanked me for letting him down gently and continued his run along the cliff path.
Now there were just the two of us, myself and the small bird of prey, which continued to hang above me in the air in its search for dinner. I looked at my camera and cursed myself. I've seen this bird here plenty of times before, but it never occurs to me to come equipped with the lens that might offer up a presentable picture of it. I ripped the camera from its tripod and snapped away, but I knew that even with a hefty crop and a rapid deployment of the Topaz Gigapixel software it wasn't going to be a shot that I could share.
I returned to the sea thrift, quickly deciding that the image I'd planned wasn't going to work tonight. Instead of an orange glow I was being treated to pastels of blue and magenta, and just to add to the recipe, long wispy mares' tails reached across the sky to the west of me from above the lighthouse. Another gloriously icy blue hour ushered itself in as I became lost in time here yet again, oblivious to hunger once more. The evenings are getting longer as we enter the month of May, but it remains unusually cold for the time of year here. I'm going to have to rethink that sea thrift shot, but at least the pinks will be around for a few weeks yet.
Later on I did blow up that shot of our feathered friend, just to double check. Definitely a Merlin - the UK's smallest bird of prey. Occasionally the gulls get grumpy and gang up on them if they think their nests are being stalked - there's no way they'd try that with a Peregrine surely?
We're halfway through the four day week. I wish we had a bank holiday every weekend. Happy Hump Day folks.
Behind an octet of orange, MMNAU is doubled down and going for broke on a perfect spring afternoon. Having made a good run out of Mankato with four SDs and plenty of traffic, an efficient combination of an already waiting train with its own quad of six axles at Tracy resulted in a veritable pile of locomotives and a hefty train into the warm sun sinking over western Minnesota.
By now we were pretty much running on fumes. A long drive, four full days of intensive togging in the Peak District, followed by a hefty hop to the west and two blustery afternoons around the Mersey and Dee estuaries, and we were about done. It had been a very productive few days, but there was no denying that the collective spirit had sagged after so much adventuring. It’s not exactly as if we’re a bunch of young whippersnappers you know. By now, just one target remained, and we’d made arrangements to meet an esteemed local photographer, just to say hello and catch a few photographs together. Once again, the real magic of Flickr was amongst us, bringing like minded crazies together at the coast in the gathering darkness on a foul evening in this shared passion to photograph the hell out of the landscape. Our party arrived at the waterfront first. The night before, we’d agreed to postpone the rendezvous as a hellish cloudburst erupted over Merseyside and kept everyone indoors, and even now conditions remained challenging. For a while the three of us waited in the car, hiding from the terrible weather outside. I stepped out to breathe in the evening rain and inspect a billboard at the edge of the car park. Tribute acts galore. The Spicey Girls I wasn’t sure about. Bootleg Blondie looked rather more like it though. From the promotional picture, “Debbie Harry” looked almost exactly like Debbie Harry, which made for a far better photograph than any I was likely to take tonight. After a while we decided to brave it and explore the beach. Identifying us wasn't going to be that difficult for our local guide. Apart from anything else, we were the only people on the beach at all.
If Rebecca was shocked by the appearance of the group of ragged men she met by the walls of the fort at New Brighton, she covered it well. So did H for that matter. You know H - they’re an inseparable pair. And while H performed parkour (I checked the spelling to make sure I was still down with the kids) on the walls of the breakwater, we chatted to his mother about all matters landscape photography related and our adventures of the last few days. In fact Rebecca had been extremely generous with the local intel, sharing a number of additional locations as well as recommending which chippy we might want to try in West Kirby if we ever arrived there hungry. We were always hungry. With just two weary days here we barely had enough time for the locations we’d come to shoot, but you only have to look at her photos to see that there’s so much more in these parts. We shall return.
Ironic I suppose that we were here for that famous lighthouse, and I’m sharing a picture of Liverpool Docks instead. I was standing far too close to Perch Rock this evening, although I didn’t realise quite how skewed everything would look until I visited the editing suite much later. Even after a degree of faffing about in Lightroom it looks as if it’s about to topple backwards into the Irish Sea, and we don’t want that. Fortunately we returned the following morning with just enough time to take some more shots before heading home to Cornwall - but that’s another story. We’ll be back for that one soon enough. It was later, as we made yet another wholesale retreat from the advancing tide that the deep blues of the evening sky offset the reds of the huge cranes across the water on the dockside in Liverpool. Blues and reds in Liverpool - usually that means something else in these parts.
It’s not often that I’m attracted to what’s been put on the landscape by the human hand. Well apart from when it’s a lighthouse or an old tin mine for example. Or those statues on Crosby Beach where we’d been a little over twenty-four hours earlier. Generally speaking I prefer the natural world alone, but there’s something quite iconic about this view. My brother did his fine art degree somewhere across there many moons ago. It was the first time he’d ever been back this way. He’s a lifelong red. He’s quite enjoying life at the moment. I digress.
By now our friends had departed and we’d said our farewells - after all, tomorrow was another normal day for the rest of the world, while we remained at large with nowhere to go apart from a long way back to Cornwall. I did a quick roll call in my head the other day - that’s eleven of you I’ve met this year, and that excludes Dave and Lee who don’t count. It’s impressive how this place in the clouds brings us all together. Six days earlier we’d started the adventure in very much the same way as we were finishing here, making friends with fellow togs. And tomorrow I’ll be catching up with one of the famous eleven again. I’m sure another story is waiting to be told. Watch this space.
Greater Yellowlegs is heftier and longer-billed than its lookalike, the Lesser Yellowlegs. Greater Yellowlegs are seen mostly during migration, as they pass between nesting grounds in the mosquito-ridden bogs of boreal Canada and wintering territories on marshes across the southern tier of the United States
Mud Bay Park
Surrey BC Canada
The first thing that won’t escape your notice is the goats. Loads of them grazing in the wide open space between the rocks and the little used road that weaves up through the bracken to the west of here. They’re almost a tourist attraction in themselves, one of Lynton and Lynmouth’s claims to fame, along with the funicular railway and the ever so steep hills that make the short journey between these twin villages so entertaining. And then of course there’s the Valley of the Rocks, which is where we were now, for the second time in a couple of evenings. We’d already walked the short circuit that takes in some alarmingly vertiginous views, before returning to the van, where we cooked supper and watched the lone hiker who we’d seen in the shop earlier as he made his way towards Combe Martin. A man of even more mature years than us, he was evidently walking the coast path, a full frame backpack mounted on his shoulders. It was late July by now, and we tried to work out when he might put in an appearance in the Blue Bar at Porthtowan, just a handful of miles from our home. Assuming he was walking that far of course. We never saw him again though.
After dinner, it was time to tackle the ridge, with just enough daylight left to try and find a composition. Although I would need to be quick, and by now my stomach was nursing a hefty portion of veggie korma. And when you’re on top of those rocks, you’re considerably higher than you were on the path, and although vertigo isn’t something that’s ever particularly troubled me, it didn’t pay to look down for too long as I made the scramble along the collection of lumpy summit points. But as long as I moved slowly, everything would be fine. I just needed to find something that worked, without taking a tumble over one of the trickier sections in the process. In time, I found a good spot, and settled down on a lofty platform of rock to set up the composition. Thinking I was done, I began the return trek to the van, which had been in view down below in the car park throughout the episode. Beyond the car park, those goats grazed diffidently in their hundreds, totally oblivious to the dubious heroics that were taking place on the rocky ridge high above them.
But I didn’t get very far. As I retraced my steps, the blue hour started to do splendid things, the clouds to the east glowing pink and filling the sky. I turned around to face the west once more, and hastened my steps, korma and all towards the shelf where I’d just spent the last twenty minutes. Among the purples and blues, lay a blazing trail of fire, spreading over the north-western sky, a symphony of pink, orange and gold that dazzled and delighted in equal measure. Amazing what happens when you go somewhere without expectations.
The composition was one that troubled me greatly. It still does in truth. Much like that yomp across the rock strewn terrain, it was all a question of balance, and for a very long time it stopped me from sharing the story. Each side of the composition had pleasing elements, but it felt as if they were two halves of entirely separate images. Perhaps that’s where a good knowledge of a location helps, so that a tried and tested composition might deliver a more successful result, but when time is against you, what can you do? I could crop in from the left a bit, which improved things a little, but at the same time I didn’t want to lose the highest part of the rocks entirely. I even tried a mirror image to make the land appear on the right hand side, and it looked far more pleasing to my eye, but anyone who knows the place would immediately sense some dodgy shenanigans, and I can’t live a lie. But in the end I liked the truthful version well enough to tell the tale. After all, that sky is quite something.
All I really needed was for one of those wild beasties to stand here on the rocks and pose epically in front of me, but what do goats care for compositional excellence when there’s grass to be eaten? To be frank, as tourist attractions go, they really could put in a bit more effort now and again. If I can get up there, then it really ought to be easy enough for a goat to make the climb.
The North Crew is shoving back to their train at Stouffer after doing all their work at Nora Springs. The train is passing ex-Rock Island ABS signals. These abandoned signals litter the Iowa Northern from Cedar Rapids to Manly back in the day. Once the air test is done, the crew will head south with a hefty 130 cars. Photo from 2010.
The Beatrice local pokes along at 10 mph back south towards Beatrice. The job works down the 31-mile branch with decent-sized customers towards the end of the line. Today's train is a hefty 41 cars. Here they pass a sweet old pickup truck at De Witt, MP 16.
Southbound and down on the Wabash, a pair of SD40-2s yank a hefty slug of Decatur traffic out of Mansfield.
“Perhaps the most familiar of all ducks, Mallards occur throughout North America and Eurasia in ponds and parks as well as wilder wetlands and estuaries. The male’s gleaming green head, gray flanks, and black tail-curl arguably make it the most easily identified duck. Mallards have long been hunted for the table, and almost all domestic ducks come from this species….. Mallards are large ducks with hefty bodies, rounded heads, and wide, flat bills. Like many “dabbling ducks” the body is long and the tail rides high out of the water, giving a blunt shape. In flight their wings are broad and set back toward the rear…… Mallards are “dabbling ducks”—they feed in the water by tipping forward and grazing on underwater plants. They almost never dive. They can be very tame ducks especially in city ponds, and often group together with other Mallards and other species of dabbling ducks.”
Source : Cornell University Lab of Ornithology
Emigrant Lake – Jackson County – Oregon – USA
Very Handsome and Rare 1934 Aston Martin Mark II Sports Saloon.
Aston Martin was founded in 1913 by Lionel Martin and Robert Bamford. The two had joined forces as Bamford & Martin the previous year to sell cars made by Singer from premises in Callow Street, London where they also serviced GWK and Calthorpe vehicles. Martin raced specials at Aston Hill near Aston Clinton, and the pair decided to make their own vehicles. The first car to be named Aston Martin was created by Martin by fitting a four-cylinder Coventry-Simplex engine to the chassis of a 1908 Isotta Fraschini.
Only a few years after it was established, Aston Martin entered receivership. The fledgling company was eventually saved from bankruptcy by A.C. Bertelli in 1926. At the time Bertelli was also working on a car of their own design and more importantly also established a coach-building shop next door to the Aston Martin factory
One of the final models to feature the 1.5 litre engine was the Mark II introduced in 1934.
The sophisticated single overhead camshaft engine originally produced a very reasonable 56 bhp. This steadily grew to 73 bhp over the years. It was also smoother and quieter thanks to a counter-balanced crank and wider timing gears.
Almost all Mark II chassis were clothed at the neighbouring E. Bertelli coach-building facility. Three standard bodies were available; an open 2/4 seater, a full four seater and a fixed-head 'Sports Saloon'. Several examples of an even more luxurious drophead coupe were also built to special order. Priced at a hefty 700 Pounds, the beautiful Sports Saloon was the most expensive version and as a result only two dozen were built.
Between 1934 and 1936 just 166 examples of the Mark II were produced.
This is an Eastern Coachwhip that I found in the same area where we had done the prescribed burn three days before.
Coachwhip snakes are remarkable in several ways. They are among the swiftest of snakes, being able to attain speeds in excess of ten miles per hour for short distances, and they are one of the longest snakes in North America, old adults often measuring two meters or more. (This one appeared to be about two meters in length.) However, the other big North American snakes, the diamondback rattlesnake, bull and pine snakes, and the indigo snake, are all considerably heftier, attaining much greater overall body mass.
The gradual change in color, from black at the front end to nearly white at the tail end, is typical for this eastern subspecies, and it makes it more difficult to focus on the snake when it is fleeing at high speed. However, this coloration is variable, with some individuals being nearly all black, and others being uniformly tan or brown.