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American Coot / Fulica americana
ORDER: Gruiformes
FAMILY: Rallidae
www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/American_Coot/overview
Homelake / Sherman Lake
Monte Vista, CO
Those of you who follow my work know I have a thing for shooting freight under wire. Well this past Thursday I got a tip that CSXT Middleboro based daytime local B727 would be making a relatively uncommon move that was long on my wish list to shoot. B727 runs five days per week between Middleboro and Attleboro on the MassDOT owned and Mass Coastal maintained and dispatched Middleboro Subdivision serving customers and interchanging with the MC along the way.
On Thursdays they normally sneak out on to Amtrak's NEC main at BORO interlockong for a two and half mile shove west down Track 4 to East Junction to work a couple customers on that historic bit of trackage that I've written about in this caption: flic.kr/p/2jck93J
But there is one other customer in the area that every once in a while gets a switch. And on this day after shoving out they reversed direction and ran east a mile to a short twisting lead splitting off just short of Holden interlocking. This lead reaches down into the building of Polyfiber Inc. a subsidiary of Holland Manufacturing makers of industrial packaging, specialty coated and laminated products, water activated tapes and other products.
B726 has run the mile west with three cars trailing three GP40-2s. Just short of Holden they stopped and made two trips down and back on the lead to pull one empty and spot one load before shoving back east through Attleboro station toward East Junction. They are seen here on the rickety s-curve lead track down into the plant that leave main track 4 at MP 198.
Attleboro, Massachusetts
Thursday January 14, 2021
(repost)
That is what the California Highway Patrol officer said.
We were ensconced in an open garage waiting out an armed 211 suspect when those words were spoken.
My call came in at 2:30. A man was barricaded in his apartment after a shootout with police. At the time, I was home sick with a headache the size of the Rock of Gibraltar. But a barricade is a barricade and I threw on some clothes and rushed to the scene.
I stopped at the road closure and was waved through by one of the CHP guys that yelled, “Hey, I know you....go ahead.”
“OK”
After parking the car where the chippy said I should, I asked our esteemed parking enforcement officer (also known as the Parking Nazi) who was standing guard, where was everything happening and where should I go.
He motioned somewhere down the street towards some low-rent apartment complexes and told me to walk on the right side of the street through a vacant lot - nothing but dirt and a creosote bush.
“OK.”
I kept an eye out for what was going on and watched as the guys from the PD’s Special Response Team ( SRT) moved into place.
“Cool,” thought I and grabbed a few shots of one of the guys creeping across the roof, rifle in front of him, pack behind. I thought, “If I get nothing else this will be good art."
I heard people yelling at me and here comes the PIO from the Barstow Police running across the street telling me that hey, I was right in the line of fire and I should like move.
“OK.”
“Don’t go south of the palm tree,” he said, “that way you won’t be in the line of fire.”
“OK. Can I stand behind the palm tree?”
“Sure,” he said, “but I’m not responsible if you get shot.”
“OK”
Seemed to be my thought processes at the time, singular “OK’s”
I stood behind the palm tree for a little bit and then moved — I really wasn’t in the mood to get shot.
The reporter showed up, a radio guy showed up, a small TV station guy showed up and we all sat around in the heat waiting for something to happen....for a long time.
Negotiators were on the phone, relatives got on the phone to try and talk this guy out. The man had been wounded slightly in the first shootout — shot in the hand and the arm — and yelled out to his friends that he was afraid the cops were going to shoot him on sight.
We all knew that this would never happen, but the guy wouldn’t come out. The cops even brought him cigarettes when he asked for them - actually threw them up to him on the balcony. If they had wanted to shoot him, they could have at that time.
I got permission to wander a bit, down in parking area where the CHP rifle shooters were set up — watched them concentrate completely down their black gun sites. I was close enough that if I stuck my head out I could see the guy’s balcony — really, really well — with bloody curtains swaying in the wind.
Time wore on, heat got worse, men got shifted around so as to give the ones sitting in the sun a break.
We waited. Cops gave me Gatorade and water. It was hot.
As dusk set in I kept hoping this guy would come out with his hands up while I still had light to shoot by. Even with my new digital camera (YEA!) I was still a newbie at using the flash in low light situations so I wanted halfway good light.
I simply couldn’t figure out why this guy would NOT come out.
Was it the macho mentality of the whole gang banger personality? Was it that he knew he was facing some major jail time? He was already a loser in that department. What possibly could be worth prolonging this stand-off?
Time wore on some more. The apartment complex residents started getting restless. Hoots and hollers and jungle-like monkey noises came from the apartments and from those watching and waiting behind the lines. A bottle was thrown.
I have to admit, this made a me a tad nervous. I could just see this thing erupting into an all-out riot. Half the people in the complex were convinced the cops were going to gun the guy down and the other half were afraid of the first half.
Soon the cops had enough waiting and started firing tear gas canisters into the apartment. Oh my! Horrible sound those loud guns. Once that tear gas thing started I didn’t stick my head out any more. I crouched down behind a car. I could still see the CHP shooters but wasn’t in the line of fire.
Good thing.
Several minutes after the first rounds of tear gas were volleyed into the apartment there came three quick shots - pop - pop - pop — out the sliding glass door — over the balcony.
“Holy shit,” thought I, “that guy is firing at us.”
“Hey,” I yelled, “Was he shooting this way.”
“Yes, Lara, he was shooting this way.”
I crouched down lower. Just about fully dark now. The people that had come out to watch were yelling the guy was yelling babies were screaming and one Barstow cop remarked, “I can’t believe these people brought their kids out to a gunfight.”
Law enforcement did not return gun fire but more tear gas was used.
Still no sound, no reaction from the barricaded man.
One of the CHP guys came back down into our spot and said that after the three rounds fired by the suspect, one more shot was heard a few minutes later - muffled. Not aimed out the sliding glass door — inside the building.
He said quietly that he had heard _that_ sound before.
Time was starting to lose meaning. Amidst the noise and chaos I had been on the phone relaying the latest developments to the reporter who had gone back to write his story. More tear gas was lobbed into the building but the feeling was that the man had offed himself with that final fourth shot.
My deadline to leave was fast approaching — close to 9 p.m. I had the images from the afternoon’s deployment and some close-ups of the guys close to me. But no resolution. No closure.
The crowd up the street was really starting to turn ugly and I debated going up to photograph that, but figured that a camera flashing would trigger the already riotous behaviour that was growing.
Two guys threw bottles at the sheriff’s SWAT team. Ooooh, not a good idea. Those SWAT-dudes are bad-asses with attitudes and guns. They do NOT take kindly to being pelted with bottles. The bottle-throwers were arrested and the crowd scene cooled after that.
No lights were on in the apartment, no movement was seen and all negotiations had long since broken off. The man’s last words and comments to the negotiator were pretty much that the only way he was going to leave was in a body bag.
I still hoped not, but I left to file my art. Before I left the center of the action, which is where I had been allowed to stay (don’t ask me why, I was just allowed to stay.) I made sure the police chief and one of the LT’s knew I was returning and wanted to be back close to where things were happening.
“Sure.” they said, “Just show your press pass, tell whoever we said it was ok and come on back - stay out of the line of fire.”
“OK”
I left, filed the creeping-across-the-roof pic and one of two officers and a bullet proof shield and came back.
Things were as I left them — no more noise, no more nothing.
About 11 p.m. the sheriff's office took over. The Barstow PD SRT and CHP back-ups had been on duty squinting down their sites for almost 8 hours, it was time for a relief team.
I watched the camouflaged SWATs come in, dash about the courtyard smashing out the remaining lights that would put them in danger and get into place, covering each other with guns pointed toward the apartment as they ran across the courtyard.
I couldn’t help myself, I thought “Jeez, this is just like in the movies.” Only this time it was for real — surrealistic, but real.
When the Barstow guys and CHP left I was still standing there all by my lonesome. One of them yelled back at me, “You probably ought to come out too.”
“OK.”
That seemed like a good idea to me — it was dark and I didn’t like being alone.
I came up out of the garage hole and plopped down on the front of a fire truck. Sheriff’s homicide detectives were wondering who the hell was I and why was I there. I smiled, introduced myself and sat back quietly on the fire engine, hoping that no one would actually notice me. I even put my camera down.
The sheriff’s Captain saw me, smiled and let me stay. I was now considered a “friendly.” Cool.
I had kept in contact with the night editor at our sister paper, even after the Dispatch went to bed, did some interviewing, got the correct on-the-record-quotes that supported the police’s version of what happened and waited — and waited.
For almost an hour after the SO took over a deputy called out over a loud speaker. “Aaron. Come out with your hands up. The building is surrounded.” Every few minutes for almost an hour. Over and over. The same tone of voice. No emotion. It could have been a computerized recording it was so precisely repeated, but it wasn’t.
Aaron didn’t come out.
Talking time was up and the SWAT team started in with more powerful tear gas. Volley after volley. No Aaron. He was either immune to the gas or dead.
Soon the team took out the doors and entered the building using flash-bang devices before going into each room - “auditory and visual distractions” they call them.
Hell honey, those are bombs.
Every time they said over the radio they were setting off another one, all the law enforcement guys, suits, SWAT dudes, everybody around me, put their fingers in their ears. I wish I had photographed that, but it is hard to hold a camera with your fingers in your ears.
Time moved faster, soon after the SWAT guys entered they called for the SO medics that had flown in on a chopper. Word came out fast that it was over, Aaron was dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.
It was one o’clock in the morning. There was almost a palpable sigh, a slumping of the shoulders when it was over. I had been at the scene for almost ten hours.
It was not a good resolution. Not the one that everyone; law enforcement, medics, firefighters, friends and family had hoped for.
I remembered what the CHP shooter said after word came in about the fourth shot — “We are in a stand-off with a dead man.”
He was right.
•••••••••••••
Rest in Peace Aaron
This is from my first photo session and I am not into portraits as you all can see in my stream, but this turned out pretty well anyway and I am happy for that :)
The ceiling of Arnhem Central Station. Architect: Ben van Berkel. Gewoon een soort van grafisch beeld.
From the time I first saw the fox to the time I took this shot was 3hrs, waiting in a smelly ditch, getting eaten alive by insects. But the wait was worth it.
To those who asked and to those who want to know
For me , it brings me joy
My Mother in Law is improving and may leave the hospital very soon!
:~)
Will try to continue to play catch up this evening
Merci for your indulgence
Part of poem For the Fallen by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943), published in The Times newspaper on 21st September 1914.
Portland War Memorial - November 2015 I pray for the families of those who are lost on whatever side and for peace...
I have a new description of Osprey -they're all wings and talons. I'm going to revisit this spot this weekend, hoping to get the same show with better light.
This was one of those nightmarish days you only dream about.
It began at 7:30 with that crazy park lady. I walk far away from her now. I park in a different place and walk a quarter-mile from her. But when she sees me, she walks directly at me, no matter where I am and who I'm with. Today, I was picking raspberries. I stopped when she walked toward me. I walked in the woods. I think she followed me, but I went fast, came out on the other side, and walked in the road. She is really ruining my days when I see her, which, fortunately, is once a week.
I came home and worked on cutting glass for awhile, and then I went skating. I also dropped some things off at the post office and attempted to buy stamps, but my card wouldn't scan, and the post office REFUSED to enter the number manually. They said it was against store policy. I asked for the manager. He wouldn't come out. I banged on his door. He wouldn't come out. A supervisor came to talk to me. She couldn't answer any of my questions. All she knew was, "They wouldn't take mines, either."
I went home angry and found a message from my mother that the travel agent wants to make sure my daughter has a passport confirmation. Except that I have tried that every day, and it hasn't worked. It still didn't. I called the passport office once again (I called last week, and a woman said she'd e-mail DC to put a rush on it), and I was told to press one and three and zero, and then the machine told me there were too many callers waiting, and it hung up. Seventeen times. And then when I finally got through, I was on the phone for 59 minutes.
The woman at the passport office told me there's no record of my daughter's application, that I can try to make an appointment for one of the three days this week that it's open before the trip, but she won't guarantee that I get an appointment, and no one's reimbursing us the thousands of dollars for the tickets.
Then I called the post office, and I was told, "This is what I can do for you, ma'am. I will call myself." I asked about the canceled money order, and the woman said, "I just told you what I could do for you. Don't try to tell me what I can do for you. I am doing what I told you I would do, now let me do that without telling me...."
She said she'd call in the morning. Meanwhile, I can pay $5 to put a trace on the money order.
I wrote to my congressman. I sent a third e-mail to the passport office, and it was actually answered today. There's no record of my daughter's passport. The person who wrote told me to call the passport office again.
I went to a self-defense class tonight. I punched the bag very, very hard. It was a very, very bad bag.
(But the instructor's son, holding the bag, was truly a hottie.)
(For 365 Days. This is Day 262. )
I skated for one hour today. It was my only pleasure. I didn't even enjoy the beers.
I can still laugh, as long as there's Engrish.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot
and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light,
and winter in the shade.
-Charles Dickens
went for a walk in the Pearl, reflected selfie with friend :)
happy weekend to all
♥
Love those Mongolian horses - so beautiful. While its easy to anthropomorphize actions animals take its clear these horses are showing some affection!
Regretfully those are over for now. But the winter is just around the corner with it's own beautiful displays.
This looks like an HDR, but guess what! It isn't. It's a manual blend of 2 exposures. The +0EV and -2EV. I developed them 4 times in Adobe camera raw. One for clouds, one for clear sky, one for foliage and one for water. I used hand painted masks to mix them together. Then boosted the saturation with LAB curves. And finally some dodge and burn and minor tweaks.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
Charles Dickens
In those days when our hearts were true
Nothing could change that strange debut
Our dreams were steadfast it’s what we knew
The future was clear it would see us through
In those days when our hearts were true
Time and tide played a changing game
We were unable to be the same.
In those long days when we lost our aim
The spinning reel of time overcame
Then there was that day of acclaim
It was all untrue that much we knew
But some took a long and different view
Much was said and taken to accrue
against our way, our loss then grew
In those days when our hearts were true
The break then came, the fracture made
The split that placed us in the shade
Our fright was such and truth mislaid
Nothing could reach such a tirade
As strangers then we were unmade
No longer then with hearts of truth
Abandoned there without our youth
The day was dark and I moved south
And I was marked then as a sleuth
In those days with hearts untrue
Poem/Lyric Richard Walker 09/10/ 2012
Archive Photo - 'The Avenue of Beech Trees in Early Sunlight near Bradbury Rings Dorset'
For those of you familiar with Jules Dassin’s film you’ll know there are eight million stories in the naked city – well with 33 births a minute, 2,000 an hour, 48,000 a day which translates to nearly 12 million a year, India is one its way to having 1.3 billion stories! The stories are everywhere you look and one of my favorite opportunities for photography is while we are driving getting to glimpse some of those stories.
Those of you of a certain age who grew up listening to the "wireless" will remember the statement, heard every Sunday afternoon And now for the Hard Word and so the presenter, Paddy Crosbie would introduce the word of the week for some youngster to spell! In our case it is Infirmorum and Morning Mary will have to admit that she never came across it before. As to today's image? The Mater Hospital in Belfast looking new and pristine but with some delightful posters, new and worn, to add some interest for the long sighted!
Photographer: Robert French
Collection: Lawrence Photograph Collection
Date: Circa 1865 - 1914 1900
NLI Ref: L_CAB_07575
You can also view this image, and many thousands of others, on the NLI’s catalogue at catalogue.nli.ie
you can see why they picked this bit of coast line to film part of the aliens film, looks like a sunrise from another planet, but its not its seahams chemical beach this morning
For those who have inquired, this formal winter portrait will confirm that Star is doing fine, truly appreciates your abiding interest, and wants you to know that, as with many of you, she is patiently (for a cat) awaiting the first sign of spring... due to arrive in about three increasingly longer months.
Crimea. Village Mezhvodnoe.
The man who appreciates the beauty of nature and the world is much richer and happier than those who do not notice this.
Thank you to everyone who stopped to watch, leave a comment, award, an invitation to the group! :))
Thanks to those who gave simply a smile or admiration and those who remained dissatisfied! :))
Those who try to read people like books - finds people on the way most magnetic. Different faces, expressions and activities of people seem most attractive to them among all the views around the street. Actually, because of this admiration or interest, I like to - capture the portraits of persons I meet on my way. Sometimes I like to know the stories of their life. And you know, all the people around the globe are amazed to the population density and variety issue of this country. And I am amazed too while going through numerous stories every day - on a new way, with new faces. How much of these experiences of seeing and knowing can be shared? Still, let some pictures, some stories persist - in the folds of time.
Ventured down to Seaham to capture those famous wheels, needed waders as the waves got the better of me and breached my wellies no camera equipment was harmed during the taking of this shot!
Those trees! Those trees! Those truffula trees! All my life I'd been searching for trees such as these! The touch of their tufts was much softer than silk, and they had the sweet smell of fresh butterfly milk!