Cats! Cats! Cats!
View allAll Photos Tagged Unhurried
I will know the morning barefoot and unhurried until time has the same thirst as my silent lips.
From the door the fresh flowers... I flee from the aroma that covers my skin. If I go out... I sense that I will dissipate with the fog.
My pedestal sinks into the calm of the water. Night comes and my path in this corridor... has no end... if I go? where there is a void loneliness reigns.
Moon.
...
it's raining, light footsteps, a murmur of syllables,
air and water, words with no weight:
what we are and are,
the days and years, this moment,
weightless time and heavy sorrow,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
...
night unfolds and looks at me,
you are you and your body of steam,
you and your face of night,
you and your hair, unhurried lightning,
you cross the street and enter my forehead,
...
the years go by, the moments return,
do you hear the footsteps in the next room?
not here, not there: you hear them
in another time that is now,
...
your shadow covers this page.
from as one listens to the rain
octavio paz
Berlin, Germany, 2015. Was able to spend an unhurried day on trains and subways of Berlin, watching and photographing hurried trains and people. Soon after, work put me back in a hurried shedule...
One of my favorite place on our journey to Machu Pichu is Ollantaytambo. The people are kind and open to tourists and their cameras. In watching their unhurried davily life, I too learned to slow down. Ollantaytambo still stays with me. I hope to return soon!
Unhurried kiss the roses of your laughter...........
Besaria sin prisa los rosales de tu risa...............
Thank you for visiting and comments !
Gracias por visitar...y comentar !
Please...View On Black
Mientras contemplamos el ritmo acelerado de los turistas, nuestra obligación es sólo pasarlo bien, sin prisas.
As we contemplate the rapid pace of tourists, our obligation is to just have fun, unhurried.
Comme nous contemplons le rythme rapide des touristes, notre obligation est d'avoir juste amusant, tranquille.
Contemplando il rapido ritmo di turisti, il nostro impegno è quello di avere solo divertimento, senza fretta.
" ...to cultivate unhurried activities and quiet places, sanctuaries in time and space for reflection and contemplation."
{The Lost Art of Reading}
Mandarin gentleman (Aix galericulata – drake)
The male Mandarin Duck glides across the water as if fully aware of his uniqueness. His layered, almost unreal plumage is not meant to impress, but to speak of balance — of color, form, and quiet presence.
In Maksimir Park, far from his native Asian rivers, this vibrant gentleman floats calmly, unhurried, as if he has always belonged here.
👉 Interesting fact: The male mandarin duck is known as one of the most beautiful ducks in the world, and it only wears its luxurious appearance during the mating season.
Mandarinski gospodin
Mandarinski patak klizi površinom kao da zna da je poseban. Njegovo perje, slojevito i gotovo nestvarno, nije tu da impresionira — nego da govori o ravnoteži boja, oblika i tišine.
U Maksimiru, daleko od svojih prirodnih azijskih rijeka, ovaj šareni gospodin plovi mirno, bez žurbe, kao da je oduvijek ovdje.
👉 Zanimljivost: Mužjak mandarinske patke poznat je kao jedna od najljepših pataka na svijetu, a svoj raskošan izgled nosi samo tijekom sezone parenja.
eactivity fading away
Fewer kinks larger tolerance
Enhanced awareness
Panoramic view
More compassion
Fewer desires
Acceptance of limitations
Acquired Humility
More Unhurried
A completeness which unfolds
As the “you ” slows down
In the heat of conflict
You taste the awareness of the moment
And let go of the memory
An awareness of the mind speeding
everything passes away
Finally a need for order
Details which seemed mundane
While speeding
Unhurried sense of order…
In between flight of thoughts ,
Constant attack of attraction and aversion
Silence comes to you…
This was taken at the Much Marcle Steam Rally on 21st July 2018, although I've uploaded this image a few months later. Its accompanied by this little short story of summer that I hope warms you a little, lifting chilly mid-winter's veil like a welcome Gluehwein….
For quite some time, Britain had been in the grip of a heatwave, and this day was one of the hottest, with searing bright sunlight, a scorching heat and only the occasional unhurried cotton wool clouds ambling across the azure blue sky far above us.
I felt at home in shorts and T shirt, even if my kit rucksack was making my back warm. The fields were parched, the earth was cracked and grass had dried and become a crinkly golden straw, slightly crunchy beneath my walking boots.
With no breeze, the warm air was filled with the sweet smell of honeysuckle, hedgerows and hay, and metallic clanking of farm ploughs turning the dusty soil in the fields intermingled with the infrequent yowl of the tractor pull.
Glad to find a hay bale to sit on near the shade of a hedge I gently placed my camera bag next to me, and sipping lukewarm mineral water, watched an old, rusty tractor with not a fleck of paint on its ancient and weathered rusty patina stoically ploughing regular furrows with a lightness that contradicted its battered and well used years. The warm roughness of my Canon body nestled into my palm and felt part of me as this image was made.
Quintessentially English, this warm idyllic day scented by summer flowers was accented by capturing rich images of rural farming, the emotion of a long summer day in the fields, and the kind and lovable people who love to live and work the land.
For some time, I’ve been trying to decide if this should be black and white or full technicolor, but for now, monochrome has won out. That might change….
The anglo-saxon old-English word for plough is sulh, and it was arguably one of the most innovative early inventions.
Я так люблю, когда приходит снег...
Издалека из вечного заснежья...
В своем неспешном плавном безмятежье...
Его пушист и и так воздушен мех.
Он неземной, ведь он приходит свыше...
Земля ему покорна, как раба...
Ей, словно женщине неведома борьба,
Ей нежность и покорность в холод ближе.......I love it so much when snow comes...
from afar from the eternal snow...
in its unhurried smooth serenity...
its fur is fluffy and so airy.
He is unearthly, because he comes from above ...
the earth is submissive to him, like a slave ...
She, like a woman, does not know the struggle,
Tenderness and submission are closer to her in the cold.
Passing through the rugged expanse of the Owyhee Mountains on my way to explore Succor Creek State Natural Area, I came across the weathered skeleton of an old gate -- a silent reminder of the region's enduring ranching heritage. The sun-bleached terrain and dramatic ridges offered a backdrop both imposing and alluring, shaped by ancient forces.
Out here, cattle roam the wild backcountry in small groups, unhurried and mostly indifferent to my truck's approach. Now and then, though, they halt my progress by commandeering the road -- sometimes even lying down on it and regarding me with an expression that seems to say, "This land is ours too," or "What's your hurry?" Encountering them while hiking, I instinctively give them a respectful distance... many people don't realize that cattle can be dangerous.
Amid such stark beauty, it occurs to me that these creatures, so much a part of the landscape, never really pause to notice the breathtaking scenery that surrounds their everyday existence.
To view photos of this year's overlanding journey in chronological order, click www.flickr.com/photos/stevefrazier/albums/72177720328383895
_DSC5263
© Stephen L. Frazier - All Rights Reserved. Reproduction, printing, publication, or any other use of this image without written permission is prohibited.
Tawny Coster Acraea terpsicore( minimalism viewpoint)
When feeding on flowers, this butterfly is unhurried, often spending a long time sitting on the same flower. When sitting it either spreads its wings or closes them over its back the hindwings covering the forewings to a large extent. Sometimes the butterfly will not sit, but rest gently on the flower while feeding, while doing this, to maintain balance, it beats only its forewings while keeping the hindwings completely steady.
The first blush of sunrise painted the horizon in warm gold and soft rose, casting a gentle glow over the garden. The path beneath your feet felt cool from the night, leading you between lush palms and vibrant blooms opening to greet the day. The air was fresh and alive, carrying the mingled fragrance of flowers and damp earth. Somewhere nearby, the soft murmur of a fountain danced in harmony with the sweet, layered songs of birds perched in the branches above. Every breath, every sound, every glimmer of light seemed to weave together into a moment of pure, unhurried beauty — a reminder that the world still holds quiet wonders for those who walk slowly enough to see them.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=saaLW0jiiUE&list=RDsaaLW0jiiU...
Easy - The Commodores
As traditionally defined:
a. To sail or travel about, as for pleasure or reconnaissance;
b. To go or move along, especially in an unhurried or unconcerned fashion;
c. To travel at a constant speed or at a speed providing maximum operating efficiency for a sustained period;
d. To move leisurely about an area in the hope of discovering something.
All perfectly characterizing my dear loons who remain still, providing the ideal canoe companions and the perfect example of how to best utilize the lake. Here, the male shown in the morning fogs which now characterize the lake, they will stay until the first signs of ice arrive.
Thoughts Drifting Down the Korana
Misty Saturday morning on the Korana River.
A fisherman sits in silence, floats barely moving, water breathing softly.
Nothing happens — and yet, everything does.
In that stillness, thoughts drift downstream, unhurried and free.
Sometimes, not seeing clearly is exactly what we need.
Misli koje plove Koranom
Maglovito subotnje jutro na Korani.
Ribić sjedi tiho, plovci miruju, voda jedva diše.
Ništa se ne događa — a događa se sve.
U toj tišini misli ne stoje.
One plove niz rijeku, bez žurbe, bez plana,
baš onako kako i život ponekad traži od nas.
A magla?
Ona ne skriva — ona pojednostavljuje.
Jackdaws are pleasing to watch. Solemnly and methodically, they stalk the lawn, unhurried in their search patterns, neat and tidy and dignified in their bearing. Unlike the larger and clamorous cousins with which they often flock, their phrases are clipped, their conversations brief.
They pair for life, share food and, when the male barks his arrival at the nest, the female responds with a softer, longer reply. They like manmade structures. Formerly a nuisance as they favoured chimneys for their twiggy bundles, they’re less troublesome in the era of central heating and their liking for church steeples has long been indulged. As the 18th-century poet William Cowper put it, ‘A great frequenter of the church, Where bishop-like, he finds a perch And dormitory too.’ For this habit, the bird was deemed sacred in parts of wales. From the 1930s, the Austrian ornithologist Konrad Lorenz, founder of modern ethology, determined a strict social hierarchy within jackdaw groups (collectively called trains or clatterings). Unpaired females rank lowest in the hierarchy: they’re the last to have access to food and shelter in times of scarcity, and are liable to be pecked at by others without being permitted to retaliate.
However, when a female is selected as a mate, she assumes the same rank as her partner and is accepted as such by all others in the group, upon whom she may impose her status by pecking. Our jackdaw was classified in the 18th century by Carl Linnaeus for its habit of picking up bright objects, particularly coins (monedula being from the same Latin stem, moneta, as money).
Indeed, after Adolf Hitler embarked on an art-theft campaign in the 1930s he was derided as ‘the Jackdaw of Linz’, reflecting an appetite for bright objects. A legend among early Christians declared that corvids were indeed white and took black plumage in mourning after the Crucifixion – except magpies, which were too busy pilfering to grieve properly, so turned only partially black.
Breeds from reedy lakeshores to boggy clearings in boreal forest, winters in wetlands and farmland. Very large and tall, with distinctive "bustle" on lower back. Adult has black-and-white head pattern, small red crown patch. Flight unhurried, with neck outstretched (unlike herons), and stiff wingbeats quickest on upstroke; groups often fly in V-formation, like geese. Loud, rolling calls carry long distances.
*Thank you all so much for your kind comments and Favs. It’s most appreciated!
I'm always amazed by the grace and beauty of these huge birds in flight. Smooth and unhurried, they soar through the air like giants in the sky!
Walking into the fog
Fog by the Korana is not just weather.
It’s a state of mind, a habit of the city, a silence that knows how to stay.
A girl and her dog walk slowly along the Korana embankment.
Trees form a quiet arch above them,
and the path fades into the fog – calm, unhurried, accepting.
Karlovac and fog understand each other well.
And for those willing to slow down,
fog always tells a story.
📷 Canon R7 · RF 24–105mm
📍 Korana, Karlovac
Odlazak u maglu
Magla uz Koranu nije samo vremenska pojava.
Ona je stanje duha, navika grada i tišina koja zna biti prijatelj.
Djevojka i njezin pas polako odlaze stazom Koranskog nasipa.
Drveće malog luga nad njima pravi tihi slavoluk,
a put nestaje u magli – bez žurbe, bez pitanja.
Karlovac i magla se dobro poznaju.
I možda se ne sviđaju svima,
ali onima koji znaju stati i gledati –
magla uvijek ima što za reći.
I have told you stories about how I found a guide for my travels in Myanmar and the timing of my trip. Luckily, it was before the wave of tourists descended on the country and yet Myanmar was a comfortable country for a traveller. I booked my own hotels. None were disappointing.
In fact, the hotel where I stayed in Yangon remains foremost in my memories. It was the Hotel Savoy. Filled with Burmese antiques and having a lovely small swimming pool, surrounded by a patio, lined with wonderful tropical plants, it was a small quiet oasis for weary sightseers. One of my fondest memories was having a peaceful breakfast by the swimming pool and being taken back in time to the colonial days of the country. ( I'm not glamorizing colonialism, but merely saying that there was charm in the unhurried things of the past.)
My guide and I toured Yangon and it was decided that we would add Kandawgyi Park to our visits. This is where the Royal Barge is located. I have shown numerous images of the stunning golden boat before and they are always favorites. There are other images of the park I cherish as well. The fog in this capture added to the mystique of an Asian country frozen in time.
Generally uncommon in open, mainly wild country. Breeds from reedy lakeshores to boggy clearings in boreal forest, winters in wetlands and farmland. Very large and tall, with distinctive "bustle" on lower back. Adult has black-and-white head pattern, small red crown patch. Flight unhurried, with neck outstretched (unlike herons), and stiff wingbeats quickest on upstroke; groups often fly in V-formation, like geese. Loud, rolling calls carry long distances.
*Thank you all so much for your kind comments and Favs. It’s most appreciated!
Mandarin gentleman (Aix galericulata – drake)
The male Mandarin Duck glides across the water as if fully aware of his uniqueness. His layered, almost unreal plumage is not meant to impress, but to speak of balance — of color, form, and quiet presence.
In Maksimir Park, far from his native Asian rivers, this vibrant gentleman floats calmly, unhurried, as if he has always belonged here.
👉 Interesting fact: The male mandarin duck is known as one of the most beautiful ducks in the world, and it only wears its luxurious appearance during the mating season.
Mandarinski gospodin
Mandarinski patak klizi površinom kao da zna da je poseban. Njegovo perje, slojevito i gotovo nestvarno, nije tu da impresionira — nego da govori o ravnoteži boja, oblika i tišine.
U Maksimiru, daleko od svojih prirodnih azijskih rijeka, ovaj šareni gospodin plovi mirno, bez žurbe, kao da je oduvijek ovdje.
👉 Zanimljivost: Mužjak mandarinske patke poznat je kao jedna od najljepših pataka na svijetu, a svoj raskošan izgled nosi samo tijekom sezone parenja.
Our lockdowns are due to be eased somewhat in just over two weeks but this reflects what a supposedly busy shopping street looks like during the current one. Taken at about 3.30pm on Wednesday 17th March, 2021 in the middle of Newark, Nottinghamshire. Most people, just like us, are out for exercise and an unhurried walk about town!
Atardecer tranquilo en el final del puerto deportivo de Ciudadela. El invierno deja el canal en calma, con las luces reflejándose en el agua y un ambiente sereno que invita a pasear sin prisas.
-----------
Quiet winter dusk at the end of Ciudadela’s marina. The canal rests in calm water, with warm lights reflecting on the surface and a peaceful atmosphere that invites an unhurried walk.
Vjetar u jedru.
Samo jedrilica, jedan čovjek i pogled prema otvorenom moru.
Polako se odvaja od obale Šila, bez žurbe — kao da traži tišinu, a ne udaljenost.
Jedro se puni vjetrom, a srce snovima.
Wind in the sail.
Just a sailboat, a man, and a gaze towards the open sea.
He drifts away from the shore of Šilo, unhurried — as if seeking silence, not distance.
The sail fills with wind, and the heart with dreams.
A juvenile Snail Kite (Rostrhamus sociabilis) glides just above the wetlands in an unhurried, steady flight, advancing only slightly with each wingbeat. Its head tilts downward, intent on the water and the scattered reeds below, as it searches with quiet precision. This slow, low sweep is characteristic of its specialized foraging style—an aerial search designed to catch the faint cues that reveal the presence of freshwater apple snails, the near-exclusive foundation of its diet.
In this immature stage, the bird shows the warm brown plumage and bold buff streaking typical of juveniles, along with the pale facial area that will darken as it matures. Like all ages of this species, it bears the long, slender, deeply curved bill—an essential tool for extracting Pomacea snails from their shells. Even now, its buoyant flight and constant downward gaze reflect the remarkable adaptation of this raptor to a world of shallow waters, emergent plants, and elusive snails.
• Gavilán caracolero, Milano caracolero
• Gavião-de-aruá, Gavião-pescador, Caramujeiro
• Snail Kite
Scientific classification:
Kingdom: Animalia
Phylum: Chordata
Class: Aves
Order: Accipitriformes
Family: Accipitridae
Genus: Rostrhamus
Species: R. sociabilis
Laguna Garzón area, Maldonado–Rocha border, Uruguay
Night Neva River. Blagoveshchensky (Annunciation) bridge connecting the Second Admiralty and Vasilievsky Island. Behind the bridge - The British Embankment. St. Petersburg.
Ночная река Нева. Благовещенский мост, соединяющий Второй Адмиралтейский и Васильевский остров. За мостом - Английская набережная. Санкт-Петербург
Someone listens to all I don't mention.
And within me lives a quiet room where emotions enters slowly, unspoken, unhurried, stepping into the light as if unsure they belong.
Within me lives a quiet room with walls built high. A place I keep for thoughts still finding their meanings and words waiting for their moments to shine.
Within me lives a quiet room, a haven when nerves rest, questions settle and paradoxes undo themselves
Within me lives a quiet room, I invite few to enter. Only those who is patient enough to stay, to listen and to care.
Within me lives a quiet room and perhaps within you too is a similar space. Where your heart speaks to you even when you say nothing at all.
- Soulxsigh
Location: Green Story
They didn’t mean to be in the frame. A quiet couple stepping off the boardwalk, silhouetted against the fading fire of the sky, apologizing for a photobomb that never was. But fate had already composed the scene, I just hadn’t seen it yet.
I showed them my style: silhouettes, softness, story. They leaned in, curious. I asked if they’d be open to a shot. They smiled. 3 or 4 shots later I asked her, if she felt comfortable kissing him.
That’s when the sky held its breath.
The railing became a stage. Their figures, a whisper of devotion. The kiss, unposed, unhurried it landed like a signature on the day’s light. The clouds streaked behind them like brushstrokes of approval. And in that moment, the sunset wasn’t just a backdrop. It was a witness.
This wasn’t a photobomb. It was a gift.
My latest photography is now available for purchase at crsimages.pixels.com/, featuring prints, framed art, and more from my curated collections.
Being surrounded by tropical plants allows one to slow the pace of life. Here's to finding beauty and quiet, unhurried moments wherever you are.
"My inspiration is molded by my childhood dream world of small boundaries - the perennial border of fairy tales and domesticity, summers that stretched long and unplanned at an unhurried, quiet pace".
(Mary Kay Krell)
"Everything you look at can become a fairy tale and you can get a story from everything you touch."
(Hans Christian Andersen)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks to all for 10,000.000+ views and kind comments ... !
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved
Thank you for your continuous support.
andika Jan Group Gift
[[Unhurried time]]
andika mainstore
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Poecila/37/64/3014
Two types of mugs for him and her each
□Copy
□Steam /on,off//touch the cup
□Resizer
When you touch the spoon, you will get a dialogue about resizing
□FaQ
[I stopped posing.]
*Touching the cup brings up a dialog*
****Left arm left shoulder left wrist Left finger is fixed with bento animation.
Even if you use it with your own AO, there is probably no problem.
www.flickr.com/photos/linda_littlebird/31692366577/in/dat...
Decor Hot chocolatte set
□Steam /on,off//touch the Pot
□Resizer
□Copy
Thank you and best regard,
andika,
Linda
Thank you for your continuous support.
andika mainstore
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Poecila/37/64/3014
andika Jan Group Gift
[[Unhurried time]]
Decor Hot chocolatte set
□Steam /on,off//touch the Pot
□Resizer
□Copy
www.flickr.com/photos/linda_littlebird/31692406247/in/dat...
Two types of mugs for him and her each
□Copy
□Steam /on,off//touch the cup
□Resizer
When you touch the spoon, you will get a dialogue about resizing
□FaQ
[I stopped posing.]
*Touching the cup brings up a dialog*
****Left arm left shoulder left wrist Left finger is fixed with bento animation.
Even if you use it with your own AO, there is probably no problem.
Thank you and best regard,
andika,
Linda
ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴡɪᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ sʜᴀʀᴋs? ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙʟᴇᴇᴅ.
She leans against the side of an old, abandoned wooden boat pulled up on the pebbled shore. A cigarette dangles between her fingers, its thin smoke curling into the salt-tinged air. Her gaze is distant, fixed somewhere between the horizon and the curling waves. The air smells of salt and seaweed, and the rising sun casts a pale gold light across the water.
For weeks now, she’s sought solace in this secluded spot by the sea. The boat, half-buried in sand, has become a familiar companion - a quiet witness to her contemplations.
This morning, however, the peace she’s grown accustomed to is disrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching over the pebbles. A man appears, carrying a small toolbox, his silhouette hazy in the sea mist. His beard is thick and neatly kept, framing his face with a rugged charm. His man-bun, tied high, gleams in the soft morning light, and his light brown eyes seem to hold the glow of the rising sun, warm and searching, like they’ve seen the world and found poetry in its chaos.
He pauses when he sees her, tilting his head in mild surprise.
“You’re sitting on my project,” he says, his tone light but teasing.
She raises an eyebrow, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. “Your project? Looks more like a relic.”
He grins, the movement softening the edges of his face. “It’s both. Been fixing it up for weeks now.” He sets his toolbox down and gestures toward the boat. “Mind if I get to work?”
She hesitates but shifts to the side, still leaning against the boat. “Didn’t think anyone cared about this thing anymore.”
He shrugs as he kneels by the hull, pulling out sandpaper and tools. “Most people don’t. But I’ve got a soft spot for things that seem... forgotten.”
Their conversation is sparse at first, carried by the rhythm of the waves and the occasional scrape of his tools against the wood. She watches him work, intrigued by his quiet focus. Eventually, she flicks her cigarette into the sand and says, “Why bother? Boats like this don’t belong on the water anymore.”
He looks up, his hands pausing. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s about giving something a second chance, even if it’s just for show.”
His words linger in the air between them, carrying more weight than either of them intended. She deflects with a smirk, suddenly self-conscious. “So, you’re a poet and a carpenter?”
He laughs softly, the sound deep and unhurried. “Just a guy who likes the sea. And maybe fixing things.”
As the tide creeps closer, they keep talking. He shares stories of his childhood by the coast, of how he’s always been drawn to the water and the stories it seems to whisper. She, against her usual instincts, finds herself admitting things she rarely says aloud - about her wandering life, her habit of leaving places before they can leave her.
When he invites her to help with the boat - just to hold a plank in place or test the balance - she surprises herself by saying yes. For the first time in a long while, she feels grounded, her restless energy softened by the steady rhythm of his work and the murmuring sea.
As the morning fades into the afternoon, the boat begins to look less like a relic and more like something alive again. And as they sit together on its edge, their hands smudged with sawdust and salt, she realizes that sometimes, it’s not the destination or the grand gestures that matter - it’s the fleeting, unexpected moments where strangers meet and something intangible shifts, like the tide.
Osaka Aquarium - Acuario de Osaka, Japon
Thanks for the visit, comments and favorites.
This image may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed, posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means, including electronic, mechanical, photocopying & recording without my written permission.
2015©jesuscm. All rights reserved.
I was told where on Mt. Diablo to find Lark sparrows. The only problem was that they were either a 2.5 mile trek or a 1250 foot climb up from the valley. The first time I went to find them, I took the longer trail. Though I found the landmarks, I found no Lark sparrows. However, I did find Rock Wrens, and became very enamored with them, the way they nested, built nest sites, and other things in their behaviors. And so, I spent the next week just getting to know them. After a week (during which I became an expert at 1250 foot climbs), I found my first Lark sparrow and five of its companions. A very striking sparrow, it was one that could not be confused with any other bird.
One was taking a dust bath; two were sitting on an ant hill; and it appeared as though two had taken up sentry posts although that is doubtful. (Over the next few months, I never heard a song or a call from one.) I had observed birds, horses, dogs, and animals on the savannah (from TV) taking dust baths. But it was the first of what would be two birds that practiced "anting." It seems that the ants would bite the sparrows (Northern Flickers were next) and spray drops of formic acid, and it was the latter that would leave the sparrows disinfected themselves. I have photos of the dusting and anting, and I'll upload them in the summer.
The lark sparrow (Chondestes grammacus) is a fairly large New World sparrow. This passerine bird breeds in southern Canada, much of the United States, and northern Mexico. It is much less common in the east, where its range is contracting. The populations in Mexico and adjacent states of the United States are resident, but other birds are migratory, wintering in the southern United States. On Mt. Diablo, even though I had trouble locating them, they are residents.
This may be one of favorite photos. Unhurried, I could reposition to get that background of sky, valley, clouds, and some flowers all very indistinct but making the sparrow even more the center of attention, and then he gave me that over-the-shoulder look.