View allAll Photos Tagged joey
A not so young Joey [baby Kangaroo] resting in it's mother's pouch while lying in the shade. Photo taken at Currumbin, Queensland, Australia.
Joey, Baby...Don't get crazy..... (I love that Concrete Blonde song).
This little fellow was eating outside my window this morning, as I ate breakfast....... I prefer cereal, Joey's more of a grass kind of fellow.
It's been a few days of rain, so he's likely happy to not be as wet as he was yesterday..
From Seventeen, January 1961. Actress Joey Heatherton looking nothing like the Joey Heatherton we came to know.
© All Rights Reserved - No Usage Allowed in Any Form Without the Written Consent of Sharon C Johnson/MyRidgebacks - metadata embedded
My dear old boy is over 10 now.
Yesterday, I had a mini photo session with Shade and Joey. I was planning on posting a picture of each bird a day until I went through the ones I liked and I was not planning on posting this one quite yet (there are others I like more). However, when I saw that Feathery Friday's contest this week was "Disguised birds" I bumped this picture up in the posting list. Joey reminds me of someone hiding behind a cape in this picture (the wing acting out as the cape of course) and he kinda (just kinda) blends into the background.
Plus I flipped a quarter to pick which picture I was going to post and this one won.
Happy Feathery Friday!
26 Times TT Winner Joey Dunlop Memorial Isle of Man.......
The Joey Dunlop Statue - Isle of Man
Joey's statue rests on the hillside above the Bungalow section of the TT course. A similar statue rests in Joey's home town of Ballymoney in the memorial garden.
Meet Joey, he walked into our lives a week or so before Christmas and we ( really my wife) decided to give him a home. I have never been a "cat" person, but he's growing on me. The two dogs.......now that's another story.......
G-JOEY still smiling even though this famous aircraft from the Channel Islands aviation scene was only one day away from retirement
Early 1980s:
I have been sick in bed for two days now, and it looks as though the whole week is a write-off as far as school is concerned. There are always consolations. My father brings home a haversack full of joey, a bottle and teats, and a formula for the milk. For the rest of the week, I take on the mentality of a mother kangaroo: solicitous, single-minded, ready to lash out at anything that might threaten my little loved one. The haversack is my pouch, and the alarm clock is set and re-set for every feeding-time.
It is late, and I have showered, and am in my pyjamas, ready for bed, drinking Sleepytime tea with leatherwood honey. The joey is wrapped in a jumper, inside the haversack, with just his legs sticking out. I mix and warm the milk, then bundle him out, and he stares up at me, the deep brown lozenges of its eyes radiating trust and dependence. And there we are, in suspended animation, feeling each other’s warmth.
Nearly three decades later, I swear that when I close my eyes, I can still smell the milk, and hear the stream of bubbles coursing into the bottle. Staring at the photograph, I suddenly realise that I have unconsciously folded my arms in the attitude of nurture.
He is silent and satisfied, and I wipe away a warm trickle of milk from the side of his mouth. The leathered pads of his hind feet are bundled up against his whiskered chin. He closes those believing eyes, and I cradle him to sleep.
Photograph tinted with watercolour by Leslie Watson, c. 1982.
Joey Mottershead
Blog: dwc-imagery.com/dance-scarlett-elizabeth-turner-joey-mott...
Visit my website