View allAll Photos Tagged afraid
To see the hummer's reaction to having a Yellow Jacket crawl on her chest, see the next photo.
Having watched Yellow Jacket for a few days I have concluded:
1. Yellowjacket wants the hummer's food and will fight for it.
2. If the Yellowjacket is on the flower, He will launch an attack when hummers get within 2 feet.
3. If the hummingbird is feeding, the Yellowjacket will launch an attack from far away.
4. Yellow Jackets will sting for no reason at all
5. Yellow Jackets have no concept of personal space
6. Yellow Jackets are dicks
George and I both love Sadie and appreciate that she is a good girl but we don't completely understand her. Her energy level varies between not wanting to get off the couch to doing happy dances during an hour-long walk. She is pretty good with the cats. She loves smelling them (especially under their tails). Jimmy lets Sadie sniff to her heart's content - Mack and Ella aren't that comfortable with Sadie yet but they aren't afraid of her.
So this is our good Sadie Girl... one month and three days post her final heartworm treatment.
I'm afraid I have become addicted to the Scaly-breasted Munia at the Los Angeles County Arboretum !! Such beautiful birds - difficult to ignore as you pass by.
And autumn was not afraid of the light
Autumn signs part 3.
We will go on with the Rotterdam series later, they don't walk away and fall goes by so fast.
There are so many uploads of autumn leaves and colours, it's almost impossable to count them.
So we take a different approach here, against the light and so dreamy. I've looked on tv at the movie the Hobbit, and I was thinking about an elvish style, may the blessings of Galadriel be with you always!
Me gustaría terminar el año con un mensaje acerca del miedo. Hace tiempo puse una foto de este monstruo del miedo que hizo mi sobrino hace unos años en el cole, y cuando fui a recogerlo me lo regaló.
El miedo en ciertas personas hace que el resto sean sumisos ante otras, por ejemplo el miedo a perder el trabajo, tragas con lo que sea, el miedo a perder a la pareja, tragas y cedes con lo que sea, el miedo a que un familiar o un amigo se enfade y entonces, callas, cedes y tragas fastidiándote tu y lo peor es que a veces se fastidia a otras personas, daños colaterales, y como estos ejemplos muchísimos mas, en todos los ámbitos de la vida, política etc.
Y así es como, a través del miedo, la gente que tiene maldad se aprovecha de la gente que tiene "bondad" o que les falta coraje para luchar. Y como interpreto yo esto? Pues así; Creo que cuando dejas que el miedo se apodere de ti por no luchar por ti mism@, por los tuy@s y por los derechos en general, eso no te hace ser mejor persona, eso te iguala a la persona que tiene maldad y esa persona siempre termina ganando porque gente como tu, buena persona, o cobarde dejas que logren lo que quieren y obren como los hijos de.. la maldad y la cara dura que son jajajjaa.
Así que espabilemos y ...
Provocar Pánico al Miedo para quitarlo de encima!
Igual no parece un mensaje muy positivo pero mi intención es que lo sea. Lo que necesita este mundo es mas amor, mas comprensión, mas tolerancia y que no siempre gane la envidia, la avaricia, el abuso de poder, el sometimiento, el racismo, la desigualdad , la falta de libertad, es decir el mal en general.
Y este es mi mensaje del casi fin de año 2024.
Como veis en la imagen el miedo se esconde, igual empieza a tener "miedo...."
Feliz salida de año flicker@s!
IMPORTANT: for non-pro users who read the anecdote on a computer, just enlarge your screen to 120% (or more), then the full text will appear below the photo with a white background - which makes reading so much easier.
My best photos (mostly not on Flickr) are here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/ticino-best-photos-of-southern-...
THE STORY BEHIND THE PHOTO:
The photo above is far from perfect - believe me, I'm aware. But I'm still very proud of the shot: because getting it was such an excruciatingly long process that it drove me to the brink of insanity. I'm afraid the anecdote that follows is equally long (though hopefully only half as excruciating 😉), but especially for birders it might be interesting.
To provide some context: In the winter of '23 I started feeding the birds in my garden on a huge tree trunk which I'd dragged underneath the fig tree right opposite my wooden shed. And it was through a small hole in that shed's wall that I was then able to photograph my unsuspecting avian guests from a distance of not even two meters (that's a story in and of itself, you can read all about here: www.flickr.com/photos/191055893@N07/52994208987/in/datepo... )
Using the shed as a blind was a game-changer for me; I hadn't managed to produce more than a single usable bird photo in the years before, and now within only a few weeks I succeeded in capturing most of the regular visitors to my garden (nuthatch, blue tit, great tit, marsh tit, dunnock, Italian sparrow and many more) up close and in great detail - yet I wasn't satisfied.
The reason for that was simple: the most beautiful bird in the neighborhood - a Eurasian jay - had so far eluded my camera. I was hell-bent on capturing that fella, but he stubbornly and consistently refused to play along. I'm aware not all jays of the species Garrulus glandarius are that difficult to photograph, but unlucky for me, mine was a regular diva and obvious VIB (that's short for Very Important Bird - in case you wondered 😉), and he behaved as such.
On the few occasions that Mr. Jay did grace my garden with his presence - and I could observe this through a window from the house - he would fly onto a branch of the fig tree right above my buffet for birds, sit there for maybe twenty seconds contemplating what was on display below, only to then fly away again (and I swear I could see him wrinkle his nose - or rather beak - before he took off 😉).
To be fair, it probably wasn't just the menu that didn't convince him; I'm pretty sure this jay knew something fishy (or worse: human) was going on in the shed, and my sunflower seeds and peanuts - which he could probably also get from birdhouses nearby where no paparazzi were lurking - just weren't good enough for him to be willing to take a risk.
Naturally I also tried other delicacies, ranging from fresh apples to grapes to raisins and other dried fruit, but nothing worked; Mr. VIB remained suspicious, which was more than a little frustrating.
Now at this point it might be worth mentioning what probably every birder already knows, namely that Eurasian jays are incredibly clever. If they don't want to have their picture taken and you insist, well, then it becomes a battle of wills between you and the smartest guy in the woods.
It becomes a game of chess, but one where you're up against a grandmaster: only you don't know it yet (unbeknownst to many, every insane asylum comes with a special wing that is reserved for wildlife photographers who tried to get a jay photo - the so called "Jay Wing" - where only the toughest and most experienced psychiatrists are allowed to treat the poor souls 😉).
I had no luck with the jay all winter, but I wasn't ready to give up (nor was I ready to have myself admitted to the "Jay Wing" - yet 😉). Once spring arrived, I hoped to attract Mr. Bluewings with a special treat. Growing up near a fruit orchard, I knew how much Eurasian jays loved cherries, and in May I could finally get the first fresh ones - still imports - from the store.
That timing was crucial, because the cherry trees around my village didn't bear any ripe fruit yet that could have competed with mine - though they would be soon. So there was now this very small window of time where I was able to offer our local "star" the kind of exclusive VIB-treatment that he clearly demanded.
And it worked... almost. It took a few days, during which the jay probably observed the tree trunk from afar (I imagined him with binoculars, in a trench-coat and with a fedora hat like a private eye from the 1940s 😉 ), but eventually he couldn't resist the juicy bribe, and he indeed came to collect the cherries.
The only problem was: the clever devil timed his raids on the buffet so perfectly that I was never in the shed when he did it. It was crazy, but I never even saw him from the house; once the cherries started disappearing, I just assumed it had to be him, because the other birds showed zero interest in anything other than the nuts and the seeds.
For almost a week the same story kept repeating itself (with slight variations): sometime during the day - and never at the same time - the cherries were being collected. The thief never took more than four or five, and it always happened within a time frame of around ten minutes (this I deducted because I checked the tree trunk at pretty close intervals) - and without exception during a moment when I wasn't there to witness it.
By now it was obvious that the jay had the house and the shed under constant surveillance, probably from a high vantage point up in the trees outside my garden where he could even see me through the windows, while I couldn't see him. It drove me nuts: the meticulousness and stealth with which this fella went about his cherry-thieving business were simply unreal!
He might have been a diva, but he showed incredible discipline: once he'd had his fill, he didn't come back, and the rest of the cherries remained untouched until the evening. It was hopeless: if I wasn't willing to observe the tree trunk non-stop or hire a private detective (and I admit I considered the latter for a moment 😉), it was clear I wouldn't see as much as a tail feather. But then I had an idea.
You have to know that I didn't want the bird food to be visible in my photos, so right from the start, I had put three somewhat photogenic looking logs of firewood in a little triangle on the tree trunk, and I'd always "hidden" the bird food in their midst (a bit of a cheat, I know, but all's fair in love and photography 😁).
This meant that while I could see those logs through the window from my house, I couldn't see the cherries and thus never had a visual clue when they started to go missing. The next day I put a single cherry on one of the logs, the remaining ones I put in the space between, like I had done before.
I went back into the house and made myself comfortable with my laptop on the sofa next to the window. Every once in a while I would turn my head to see whether the cherry was still there. After maybe two hours, it finally happened: A moment before I had still seen its silhouette clearly, and now the cherry had disappeared.
I jumped up and quickly (but silently) snuck into the shed where my camera was already mounted on the tripod and ready. The adrenaline started to kick in: I had no idea if my plan would work. The logic behind my idea was: if the jay went for the most exposed cherry first and was then busy for a minute or so eating it somewhere, maybe he wouldn't notice me sneak into the shed.
The suspense was nearly unbearable; sweat was dripping from my brow into my eye, and I didn't dare to move, for fear the slightest noise (like my clothes rustling) would give my position away to the jay. I looked through the viewfinder, eyes squinted, frozen like a statue, for what felt like eternity (but in reality couldn't have been more than a minute or two), when out of nowhere he appeared: the master thief materialized on one of the logs like some sort of magic trick.
And yes: it was the jay - and he looked magnificent. He made a quick movement with his head, and then he was gone. I was stunned. It all had happened so fast that I hadn't even tried to get him in focus - I just stood there, almost shocked. I had never had a chance to get a shot. A minute later, while I was still silently cursing myself, my prized bird appeared again. I fumbled on my camera - he was gone before I could do so much as adjust the direction of the lens.
I started cursing loudly now - I just couldn't help it - but the jay didn't seem to mind. Within the next three minutes he came back two more times, and all I had to show for in the end was a perfectly focused - albeit entirely birdless - photo of the logs on the tree trunk (well, that and some very nice clumps of my own hair in my hands 😆). I hoped against hope he would appear one more time, but he didn't; he'd taken his usual five cherries, and the raid was over for the day.
I have to say that despite my anger (mostly at myself), I was impressed: the speed with which my adversary acted was incredible - no wonder I had never seen him. But there was simply no way I could shoot this lightning fast creature the way I usually do, which is by selecting the smallest focus and then only aiming for the eye. If I wanted to capture Mr. Bluewings at all, I had to switch to auto and continuous shooting mode, hoping one of the photos would end up being in focus.
I enacted my new strategy the next day, and thankfully the trick with the single exposed cherry on the log worked again: the jay went for it first, and I was again able to quickly sneak into the shed, apparently undetected. As had happened the day before, Master Garrulus glandarius appeared out of nowhere - and again was gone before I could even think of pressing the trigger.
But after the third attempt, my timing was finally right; I aimed and shuttered in rapid fire as if I were working a machine gun; the camera went "trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" (yes, that's my best imitation of that sound 😂 ), and I could see immediately how that noise irritated the jay. Weirdly enough, he seemed to be much more bothered by the camera noise than he was by my constant muttering and swearing.
This time, he didn't come back for a fifth and final cherry. But I couldn't have cared less (and as a nature lover it embarrasses me to admit this); I was in a reckless, almost feverish "hunter mode", and the only thing that mattered now was my photographic prize.
I was euphoric, because I knew I had captured the jay. Still in the shed, I immediately went through the photos, fingers trembling with excitement (I know this must sound exaggerated and very ridiculous to most people, but I bet you photographers out there know exactly what I'm talking about 😄).
My euphoria dissipated quicker than you could utter the words "Jay Wing". Even on the small camera screen it became instantly apparent the pictures were unusable. They were out of focus at best and a total blur at worst. I scanned my surroundings for a suitable object or surface where I could bash my head in. I wanted to scream (and maybe I did - my neighbors looked at me funny later that day, but then they often do that 😂).
So far it was 3:0 for the bird. I had failed at every attempt, and he had outplayed me on every level. To make matters worse, I didn't dare to apply the continuous shooting mode again: the noise was just too loud, and I was afraid I would scare the jay away for good (plus the results - due to my ineptitude - weren't likely to improve).
I was used to photographing reptiles, insects and roe deer, and none of them moved as fast as the Eurasian jay: I needed more time. Just a few seconds would have been enough, but I realized the clever bird would never give me those. The situation seemed hopeless - until I had an unexpected Eureka moment. All of a sudden I knew how I might get an extra second (or two) with Mr. VIB (provided he did come back after my loud shuttering).
The following morning I went to the tree trunk once more, and again I put a single cherry on one of the logs, but the rest - you know: the ones that I always put into the middle of this log triangle - I covered with some thin twigs. Not too many - after all, the bait had to remain visible underneath the twigs - but enough that a single picking motion wouldn't be enough to snatch a cherry.
"Your move, Mr. Jay," I thought as I went into the house. I lay down on the sofa, then I waited. The jay didn't come. All day long I regularly peered out the window: the silhouette of the lone cherry on the log remained in place, like some weird little statue, mocking me.
I became convinced the intense camera noise the previous day had disgruntled the jay to the point where he'd had enough of my shenanigans. Hard as it was, I had to get ready to accept the fact that my trophy shot of this beautiful bird just wasn't gonna happen. Then, sometime during the late afternoon, I suddenly noticed the cherry was gone. Ten seconds later I was in the shed - and ready.
The look on the jay's face when he landed on one of the logs was almost comical. He apparently hadn't noticed the twigs before, and his short moment of hesitation was all I needed to get a first shot. He heard the noise and looked right at me - click! - and that was my second shot, which nicely captured the bewildered look on his face (you can see that photo here: www.flickr.com/photos/191055893@N07/52994208987/in/datepo... ).
It only took Mr. Bluewings two seconds to adjust to the new situation; he quickly threw out a few twigs with his beak, picked up a cherry - click! (my third shot, that you can see above) - and off he flew. But it was clear the jay knew exactly he was being photographed, and he didn't like it one bit. The annoyed expression on his face had been unmistakable: he looked like Sean Penn when he's confronted with a paparazzo.
Meanwhile I was over the moon: it had worked (and a quick check on the tiny camera screen confirmed this); I had at least two acceptable photos. The few extra seconds the twigs bought me had done the trick.
All's well that ends well, as the saying goes, and if the 'Tale Of The Jay' were to conclude here (and it could), this would indeed be a happy ending. After all, I had eventually outsmarted the clever bird and gotten my desired photos. But there is a short epilogue to the story, and I believe it's worth telling (and if you made it to this point, you might as well continue reading 😉).
You see, I was only able to pull off the "single-cherry/twigs strategy" one more time (the very next day, and you can see those photos here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/post/eurasian-jay-garrulus-glan... ) - and then never again. Two days later, the single cherry was still visible on the log at nightfall, and so I assumed the jay hadn't come. But when I went to check - big surprise! - five of the other cherries were gone.
"Well," I thought, "That's pure coincidence." In my mind there was no way the jay could have realized the exposed cherry on the log disappearing was my visual clue that his stealth "attack" had started: no animal was that smart. And yet I have no other explanation, because believe it or not: he never went for the single cherry again. Ever.
In all my subsequent attempts, my visual clue remained untouched, while the jay cheekily collected the other cherries. And soon after, the cherry trees around the village were starting to bear ripe fruit, and the jay's visits to my garden stopped. In fact for the entire remainder of the year, there were no more photos for me of Mr. Garrulus glandarius.
So in the end - who REALLY won this game of chess between me and the jay? If you ask me, I'd have to call it a draw (and that's probably still being generous to myself) - but you be the judge. 😉
P.S. This year I photographed and filmed a Eurasian jay in my garden (I have no idea if it was the same fella as last year), and this clip here might give you an idea just how quick these guys are: www.youtube.com/watch?v=OA9s_bciA-Y - I timed the cherry theft: it takes the jay not even two seconds to land, snatch his prize and take off again (you can also watch it in slow-mo), so I guess I shouldn't be too hard on myself. 😂
Many thanks for looking and reading, and have a wonderful weekend everyone 🙏 😊 ❤ - and as always, let me know what you think in the comments (I'd be particularly interested if anyone had similar experiences with jays or other clever corvids - or was outsmarted by any other wild animal the way I was).
I'm afraid my practical skills don't extend beyond sewing on a button (seriously), but for some reason I do enjoy photographing sewing paraphernalia. Perhaps it's just a natural progression from the vintage buttons I love.
In this image, the scissors and silver thimble are from the late 19th century and the cotton reels range from the 1930s to the early 1970s. You won't be surprised to know there's zero chance any of these things will actually be pressed into service. :)
Photographed with Lensbaby Velvet 56.
Want to have me photograph and edit your pictures or just edit them?
Add me on secondlife and IM me or discord ( Kitty♡#6642) and will tell you about my prices.
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Pero's Bridge is a pedestrian footbridge that spans Bristol's floating harbour, and was named in honour of Pero Jones, an enslaved African who lived in Bristol. The bridge was designed by the Irish artist Eilis O'Connell, in conjunction with Ove Arup & Partners engineers and opened in 1999.
- George Bernard Shaw.
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The last time we were at Page and visited horseshoe bend out in the middle of nowhere, the weather did not cooperate and we had a less than stellar sunset. This time though we had a beautiful sunset but a huge number of people. So getting a shot without people n the frame was nearly impossible. Here is a stitch pano shot made of about 7imagestaken in portrait mode and stitched together to give an ultra wide perspective. It was quite dark by the time I made this shot and hence I had to do a bit of over exposing to get everything in.
Hope you all like it thanks for visiting.
...of exploring.
Mini-me out in the woods.
I had to change into warmer clothing for the winter months!
Now that it is getting closer to 2025, I am thinking of doing a 365 project that will feature a Lego a day?
I've seen others that do it and I think it is a great photo project!
CAST
Marina Vita: TB
Tristan Vita: Erebus
Costume Design: Bailey
Hairstyle: Bailey
pixabay.com/music/solo-piano-spooky-halloween-piano-161862/
THIRTEEN There is someone walking behind you
(Night has cloaked the forest in silence when Mari and Tristan finally return to the cabin, laughing at some shared joke as they go inside.)
Mari:
You should consider a career change. You had the whole karaoke crowd on their feet.
Tristan:
Okay, starting tomorrow, me and a karaoke machine are hitting the road.
Mari:
I'll be your backup singer/dancer.
Tristan:
You're already a dip-n-daub superstar. You don't wanna give that up.
Mari:
(mirth fading) Tris, I have to tell you about something that happened. And I want you to know, it's going to sound crazy.
Tristan:
Have you already formed a rival band?
Mari:
This is serious.
Tristan:
(seeing her expression) Yeah, it looks like it is. C'mon, let's sit. (guides her to the sofa, and they sit)
Mari:
It's like I don't know how to start.
Tristan:
Take your time.
Mari:
(takes a deep breath) Remember when I called you during that sabbatical I took, after -- (she trails off, unwilling to talk about the tragedy that sent her on sabbatical)
Tristan:
(takes one of her hands) Yeah, I remember. You said you were having trouble focusing, that it wasn't working out the way you'd hoped.
Mari:
That was an understatement. (sighs, looking at the hand he's holding) For a moment, it was like it was today, where I felt, you know, normal. I started a canvas, and it felt right, but then -- (sighs again) Okay, this is the crazy part.
Tristan:
(giving her hand a small squeeze) I'm not going anywhere.
Mari:
It felt like someone was staring at me. I was alone in my suite. I had the French doors open, so I could look across the ocean, and I still felt this ... pressure on the back of my neck. When I turned around, thinking a maid might have come around to change the linens, but was afraid to interrupt me, nobody was there. (she gives a little laugh) I made myself jump, though, because I caught my reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall.
Tristan:
Yeah, I've seen you when you're annoyed. I'd have jumped too. (they both chuckle a little)
Mari:
I thought it was all in my head, but I started to feel that way almost everywhere I went. Tris, I never caught anyone actually staring at me, and it even happened when I was alone, but I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. And then I started having dreams, and you were in them, but it wasn't really you. I'm hearing how crazy I sound as I'm saying this.
Tristan:
I've heard crazier.
Mari:
When I got home, the feeling went away. I couldn't paint, but I didn't feel watched -- until ... (her voice trails off as she looks toward the canvas) I've been having nightmares again.
Tristan:
I know --
Mari:
No, not like before, at the beginning. These nightmares are like the ones I had at the retreat, where it's you, or someone else, and things seem normal, then they spiral into horrible things. (shakes her head) And the paintings I did that Walter likes so much -- I just ... I don't know. I think they're part of it, somehow.
Tristan:
Part of being stalked?
Mari:
No, yes ... (sighs) When I was looking at the painting, I caught a glimpse of it in the mirror -- and that feeling just came over me, in a horrible rush, just like it did at the ocean. I haven't been able to shake it -- well, except when I was out in the meadow, and when we went into town. (she slowly looks around the room) Even now, it's as if there's someone here with us ... watching ... listening ...
(A strange whispering slithers around the cabin.)
Mari:
Did you -- hear something?
Tristan:
Like a -- snake, maybe?
(They slowly rise from the sofa, staying close as they look around the cabin. Just then, the cabin door bangs open, a rush of wind surging into the cozy room, and both Mari and Tristan jump, Mari even giving a little scream while Tristan makes a small sound like, "gah!" Then they both start laughing.)
Tristan:
Sorry, sorry. I didn't close it all the way.
(He leaves the sofa, going to the door, glancing outside before closing it with an extra shove, and locking it. He returns to Mai, who's getting up, and they grin at each other.)
Mari:
If I have a nightmare tonight, I'm blaming it on you. (teases Tristan)
Tristan:
(holding up his hands) And if I do, I'll blame me, too.
(And the couple make their way to the bedroom.)
In several places in the Azores, I encountered feral domestic chickens. On the Island of Terceira, this young hen in the nature park on Mount Brasil didn’t seem to have a fear of humans. She came right up to me unlike many of the other chickens in the park.. The were lots of chickens and some Guinea fowl on Monte Brasil.
Who is afraid of the dark?
"I sometimes have a tendency to walk on the dark side."
Quote - J. K. Rowling
"Fantasy has a dark side to it. It also has a light hemisphere - the power of the human imagination to keep going, to imagine a better tomorrow.”
Quote - Tim O'Brien
"Let’s rise up and let our joys feed on our failures
Don’t be afraid of being yourself
You can unfold fearlessly
Peace is right here"
This big alligator was lounging in the grass next to the (appropriately named) Alligator Alley walking path at Circle-B-Bar Reserve. It was a nice day and there were a lot of visitors. This was not the first alligator sunning along the path but so far none had been adventurous or seemed to mind people walking by. This one, on the other hand, was none too happy with the attention it was getting. A group of people had gathered on each side of the alligator afraid to try to walk by it because most of us were concerned it might not be as passive as the others had been; and, rightfully so because the alligator began to lift up and hiss at park visitors. Myself and my partner lingered a good distance back to see if the alligator would scurry off into the water, ready to turn back if necessary, but the alligator stood its ground for a while. Among the group was what I can only describe as Florida Man, those who live in Florida or who have read some of the stories written about Florida Man's antics will understand. So we will call this park visitor Florida Man. Florida Man was with his family including a baby in a stroller. Well, Florida Man got tired of waiting on this hissing alligator and after a while decided the best way to scare it off was to take his baby in the stroller and walk right on by it. I will give Florida Man credit because it worked. The alligator turned tail and ran off into the lake, but even knowing that alligators are generally afraid of humans I would not have taken that chance with my child.
The danger comes and her guardians appear. She is not worried or scared. With them on her side, what should she be afraid of.