The dunlin moves along the coastal beaches it prefers with a characteristic "sewing machine" feeding action, methodically picking small food items. Insects form the main part of the dunlin's diet on the nesting grounds; it eats molluscs, worms and crustaceans in coastal areas.

Whenever I review the blessings received while visiting Custer State Park a year ago this month, I am still as overwhelmed as I was while I there and receiving them! Finding myself alone and in proximity of a bachelor group of Bighorn Sheep has been a definite top 10 wildlife encounters of my life…thus far!

I have no idea how their hieratical system works, but did find it amazing how this lad took it upon himself to be the gatekeeper for the group. When I first drove up on them crossing the road, he stood facing me as if a statue, as the others trotted past. Once I got out of the car and approached the group, he moved off the road and joined the group. As others grazed, he remained vigilant at his post, keeping his eyes on me and his ears on the rest of the group as they moved up the rugged rock hill towards the high country of the park.

He never seemed alarmed or anxious…not that a kid from Indiana would know what that looked like…so I just slowly and methodically closed the gap between us to improve the lighting.

When they finally grazed themselves up behind a large rock outcropping, I knew my photo session had concluded. While climbing back into my vehicle, I looked at the clock and discovered that I had been out there with them alone for just over 30 minutes…without another vehicle coming by to ruin the encounter…a true blessing in itself!

Should God’s plan for me ever place me in a nursing home for any period of time, besides tons of family photos, I would hope to have a shot of this lad on my wall. The memory of our time, man to man looking into each other’s eyes at such close range will always be special.

Photo taken on 20 May, 2023 at Custer State Park, South Dakota.

Adventure before dementia!

A female Northern Cardinal moves quietly through the oak understory this winter morning, her warm buff‑brown plumage complementing the muted Cross Timbers palette. Against the dormant grasses and twisted oak branches, her subtle orange tones shone with a coquettish beauty. She foraged methodically, cracking seeds with that powerful conical bill. Even without the male’s bright red display, she carries a regal presence.

Our beautiful world, pass it on.

Another of the Western Bowerbird at the Olive Pink Botanic Gardens in Alice Springs methodically assessing his bower for faults.

Every once in a while, whenever I show off a synchronized flash image, I read a comment like "O. Winston Link!" or "OWL shot!"

Of course, those compliments are flattering and appreciated. But, to be clear, I am not O. Winston Link from Brooklyn. Allow me to elaborate.

Link spent about six years documenting — principally at night, through his pioneering work in flash photography using elaborate setups — the twilight of American steam locomotion on Norfolk & Western Railway in the late 1950s. My subjects, on the other hand, aren't often steam locomotives. When the subjects are steam, though, they're far from the autumns of their revenue service careers and often wonderfully preserved and going strong, many thanks to the armies of volunteers who keep the locomotives (and the organizations behind them) going.

Link, often accompanied with an assistant, would set up hundreds of single-use flash bulbs, miles of cable, and custom bulb holders to illuminate a scene, but only after days and sometime weeks of deliberate planning and methodical research. My equipment, on the other hand, relies on no more than five studio flash units all linked with wireless radios.

I could carry on ad infinitum on the differences between he and me. However, there is one belief that Link held that might be a place of common ground. Link once said, "All I wanted was to get some nice pictures of trains at night." Here, we are of one mind.

In this scene at Groff's on Strasburg Rail Road, Norfolk & Western Class J 611 pours on the coal and delivers just what I wanted: a nice picture, of a train, near nightfall. Simple and satisfying.

This lovely relative of the crane was walking along the shore of a lake in Odessa, FL, and methodically wading in, picking these clams, eating it, and repeating. Hundreds if not thousands of shells littered the perimeter...I am not sure why this lake was the only one so blessed with bivalves, but I understand why happy looking limpkins were marching in and out of the water all around it.

Solitary, cold, methodical and unencumbered by scruples or regrets, a killer waits in the shadows, watching for his next target. Yet, the longer he waits, the more he thinks he's losing his mind, if not his cool.

I love to watch brown bears being brown bears. Whether they're fishing, clamming, challenging another bear for dominance, playing, nursing their young ... it really doesn't matter. I'm pretty much crazy for bears!

In the summer, the usual behaviors include trying to catch salmon, which they need to fatten up to insure their survival over their winter hibernation period. Of course, every bear seems to fish differently. Some pounce, some methodically wait for the precise moment, some steal (though that presents its own challenges), some corral the fish ... but when a dive for the catch happens, when they emerge empty, they almost always enter what I call the spin cycle and shake vigorously the excess water from their heads. It's so much fun to watch.

Lately, I've been feeling a bit of a spin cycle within ... but all's good and things are looking better after having a bit of time off. More to come though ... :-)

Hope you enjoy!

I knew where it was. It was just that I had little idea of how I was going to get there. Courtesy of the major road upgrade right on our doorstep that’s gathered pace this summer, I’d already been forced along two diversions I hadn’t been too wild about following. By the time I arrived at the outskirts of St Agnes I was beginning to lose heart. And now things got worse. The road I’d planned on taking when I looked at the map appeared to be a very narrow bridle path, and so I continued to the next likely looking route, only to find myself crawling along a classic Cornish lane, barely wider than the car and flanked by bracken that did little to hide the bruising granite walls on either side. And of course it was as I was almost a quarter of a mile along it that a car appeared, coming from the other direction. A few minutes of irritable backtracking to the unbroken sound of my car’s complaining reversing sensors later, followed by an apologetic thank you from the grateful occupants of the offending obstacle, I gave in and turned around, finally arriving at a layby beside the main road where I stopped to inspect the map once more. The last mile took me down another narrow winding lane, but at least this time I didn’t meet anyone coming in the other direction. The track from the road to the car park was a series of ruts, rocks and potholes, but finally I was here, ready to explore a space I’d never brought the camera to before. I was only six miles from home, but the drive had taken me almost an hour. On the plus side, apart from me there were just two vans in the car park. Presumably everyone else was stuck in that narrow lane waiting to see who’d engage reverse gear first.

It was Marcus and his YouTube channel, Cornwall on Camera, that had brought me here. Somewhere in the afternoon the idea had taken root that I needed to get out for a couple of hours, just to breathe in the air and watch the sea. Of course I’d have the bag with me, but photography wasn’t the main purpose. As I often do when I haven’t really made plans, I’d already half resolved to go to Wheal Coates, the nearest coastal beauty spot. But then I looked at the tide times and considered the options again. It was a mild afternoon, devoid of purposeful conditions, and I do generally prefer Wheal Coates when things are a bit nasty. Nasty was the last word I’d use to describe this gentle September Sunday afternoon, and as I continued in the current vein of indecision, Trevellas Cove suddenly leapt into the forefront of my ambitions and shouted “remember me with my twin sea stacks?” And so the deal was done. It was a perfect day to try something new.

Unlike the drive here, it didn’t take long to get my bearings, although I was immediately distracted by a small group of people on the beach who were all staring out across the water. What on earth were they looking at? It took a while for me to realise that their friend, swimming close to the shore, had been joined by an inquisitive seal, edging ever closer to him until it was almost within touching distance. For a few minutes I sat and watched, entranced, intrigued and full of envy. I made a mental note to bring my wetsuit and the underwater camera next time. And with that thought in mind, I continued along the narrow clifftop path towards where I hoped I might find the sea stacks.

It was only after I’d set up the tripod and began to try and make sense of the clifftop composition that they walked past, him barely registering me, her offering a smile as I nodded hello. And within seconds they’d vanished, before I caught a glimpse of them on the rocks below, donning wetsuits and jumping into the sea. I’d assumed I was standing as close as you could get with high tide approaching, but by watching their progress I was already beginning to learn something about the place. Following their route took me to a rocky platform. And there was the scramble to the side of me - a diagonal traverse that would allow anyone brave enough to descend the few metres to the shelf beside the sea. It wasn’t for the faint hearted, but just about navigable if taken methodically and slowly. After a bit of huffing and puffing and searching for suitable holds, I was soon on the smooth grey rocks where a whole new world opened up in front of me. Now I could stand close to the water, with lots of delicious textures right there in front of me.

Unlike many of Marcus’ shots here, I completely ignored the right hand stack and brought the edge of St Agnes Head into the frame, the small dot known as the cow and calf on the horizon. You’ll need to see them from Perranporth to make sense of that descriptive title. And although I hadn’t consulted the relevant apps, I’d evidently chosen a good time of year to come here, because the sun was setting in exactly the right place. I’d come here armed with the B team, the crop body and ragtag lens collection, including that one - the Tokina wide angle affair that had arrived from Pakistan and broken down on its first outing. But those debut nerves seemed to have been banished to the wings, the lens working without complaint and performing rather admirably considering how little it cost in comparison to the rest of them.

The return journey was rather less eventful, even though the clamber from the rocks to the grassy safety above felt marginally more hair raising than the journey down had. I need a pulley system installed for next time. Either that or a raft to get me back to the beach, very possibly with a playful seal in hot pursuit. Whether or not I’m brave or daft enough to take on that traverse again, I was glad I made the effort. I will be back. I think this place has another ace or two up its sleeve, waiting to be discovered.

The American White Pelican (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) is one of North America’s largest birds, with a 9-foot wingspan, they are also among the heaviest flying birds in the world. They are superb flyers and often travel long distances in large flocks by soaring. When flapping, their wingbeats are slow and methodical. American White Pelicans feed from the water’s surface, dipping their beaks into the water to catch fish and other aquatic organisms. They often upend, like a very large dabbling duck, in this process. They do not plunge-dive the way Brown Pelicans do. During the breeding season, breeding adults grow an unusual projection or horn on the upper mandible near the tip of the bill. An American White Pelican floats in for a landing at White Rock Lake in Dallas, Texas.

Click on the link below to explore your options. Select from fine art prints, canvas, acrylic or metal prints for your home or office. Make sure you subscribe so you don’t miss out on updates, sales, and new blog posts.

www.cuttsnaturephotography.com

In the dim twilight that perpetually shrouded Helixion, Azura Vespertine was an anachronism, the last vestige of artistry in a world suffocated by orthodoxy. The cobalt strands of hair belonging to Azura and her twin, Lyria, stood as a brazen affront to the uniform drabness that the city mandated. Such vibrancy was a rebellion in itself, a declaration of war against a regime that had outlawed the mere concept of color and creativity, condemning them as seeds of dissent and disorder.

With the institution of the Grey Laws, Helixion’s governing body had launched its crusade against extravagance, decrying art as a frivolous extravagance and a corrosive societal influence. The visual tapestry of life, once a kaleidoscope, was methodically replaced by an oppressive monochrome. Lyria had been a casualty of this purge, her street art her downfall, leaving Azura in the quiet despair of forced solitude. Yet within the sanctuary of her sparse studio, Azura clung to the relics of a more vibrant epoch, her works a clandestine testament to a suppressed past. Outwardly, she donned the cloak of conformity, her azure locks and inked skin hidden beneath the guise of the unremarkable, blending into the sterile streets of Helixion like another faceless apparition.

In the sanctuary of her studio, where canvases bore silent witness to a defiance that daylight could no longer bear, Azura would prepare two cups of coffee. The ritual was a daily rite, one warm for her lips, and one left to grow cold in homage to Lyria’s preferred taste—a quiet ode to a shared past now relegated to the shadows.

Azura’s art was birthed in the stillness of the curfewed nights, under the gaze of a less vigilant tyranny. Each piece she crafted was a subversive act, a covert dispatch to those souls still receptive to the notion that their world need not be one of bleakness and fear.

Each painting was a revolt, a luminescence against the engulfing dark. There, in the interstice between the two cups, with each sip of the cold brew, Azura kept the promise of a chromatic renaissance alive, a whispered pledge to Lyria that the colour they once knew might one day bleed into the fabric of Helixion once more.

I have had good success with this skipper over the past few days. It seems to select Ironweed over other nectar sources. They are very methodical as they nectar and will linger for minutes on a single flower head.

With twin mixing drums embedded in each forearm, MK-Rotomix is always in motion - quietly, steadily blending concrete as it works. It's calm and methodical, laying down smooth lines and solid foundations without a drop wasted. To this Duplon, the job’s not done until every layer feels just right underfoot.

Before the sparks fly and the skyline begins to grow, the MK-Series arrives. These Builders don’t just follow instructions - they create the cities of the future. Each unit brings a different rhythm to the worksite, from the steady churn of mixers to the precise lifts of cranes. They build with patience, coordination, and precision - because a strong city needs solid foundations.

Thanks for the comments, faves and visits

This close-up captures the elegant beauty of a Physostegia, or Obedient Plant, in its early blooming stage. The image showcases the plant's distinctive spire-like structure, with delicate lavender-pink flowers unfurling from the bottom up along a vibrant green stem. The contrast between the soft, billowing petals and the crisp, orderly arrangement of buds creates a captivating visual rhythm. Set against a muted background, the flower's intricate details shine - from the subtle veining in the petals to the tiny stamen peeking out from each blossom. This photo beautifully illustrates the transitional phase of the plant, with fully opened flowers at the base and tightly closed buds at the top, offering a glimpse into nature's methodical yet magical blooming process.

This is not a particularly compelling image, but it was a lifer, a bird I don’t see often on Flickr, and so I wanted to post it.

Paul and I had a pattern for our three days of birding in Prince Edward County, starting at sunrise at Traverse Woods and then moving out to the lighthouse point. That latter walk leads past several enormous Willows, leaning out over the waters of Lake Ontario. We had dozens of species in those Willows in the early morning, including flocks of Baltimore Orioles and Scarlet Tanagers, and even Ruby-throated Hummingbirds fed on the flowers.

We had met a couple who had the same early morning plan, and it was their find. The Black-billed Cuckoo is a bird that often hides deep in foliage and spends long periods without moving. The couple had checked each of the Willows very methodically because in the first big wave of spring migration, this is what you can find.

It is a really neat bird to observe. Unfortunately, it barricaded itself pretty well deep inside the Willow. But it wasn’t too high up - the Willow it was perched in leans over into the Lake - and a few minutes of strategizing enabled me to climb around inside most of the branches to get a record image, all without flushing or attracting the attention of the bird. That said, it was very keenly attentive to all of the other birds singing and calling around the point, including the ever-present Merlins.

One of the neat things that is visible in the image is its feet. It has zygodactyl feet, meaning two toes pointing in each direction, just like Owls and Woodpeckers.

I was able to return the favour, to a degree, as about a half hour later I found a male Blackpoll Warbler and shared that with the couple who had pointed out the Cuckoo. Not as exotic, to be sure, but for people tracking their species early in a day of migration birding, it was a welcome addition to the list.

Song of the Day: Didn't Cha Know- Erykah Badu

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As a Fire sign (astrology), I tend to go full steam ahead sometimes with careful thought or methodical recklessness the latter being quite often but I find my calmness in the sunset of the day and the sway of ripples in the ocean.

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Photo taken @ MEDITERRANEO Coffee & Lounge Bar

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Campignon%20DesOs%20Isle/5...

This juvenile Yellow-rumped Warbler was feeding on the remains of insects left in a spider web, apparently having been processed by the original captor. There was enough nutrition to be gained that this young bird was methodically gleaning the tidbits from reeds at Frank Lake in southern Alberta, Canada. I have also seen this resourceful adaptation employed by juvenile Cedar Waxwings, as shown in this image: www.flickr.com/photos/luminouscompositions/53254575260/in...

Although secretive and skulking while creeping slowly through its wetland habitat, the Green Heron (Butorides virescens) is actually one of North America’s most Recognizable wetland birds. So named for its glossy green cap and back, this relatively small, compact, crested heron can be quite inconspicuous, but often gives its presence away with loud squawks.

Standing alone at the water’s edge or on a branch just above the water, the green heron waits patiently for its prey before driving its head into the water and catching its target in its pincer-like bill. Feeding primarily on fish, the green heron is one of very few tool-using bird species and uses a variety of baits and lures, including insects, earthworms, twigs or feathers, to entice fish to where it can grab them. This versatile, intelligent predator has a rather large bill for its size and, as such, can feed on a variety of other large prey, including frogs, reptiles, small mammals and crustaceans. It feeds by day and night in shallow waters, often as little as five Centimeters deep, and tends to walk between hunting sites in a slow, methodical, deliberate fashion with the body crouched.

An extremely adaptable wetland bird, the green heron occupies almost any shallow fresh, brackish or saltwater habitat within its range. It is typically found in swampy thickets, preferring to forage around dense vegetation, but may feed in the open when food is available.

I found this one along Peavine Road in Osceola County, Florida.

This one has a Blue cap! (smile)

A small, dark heron arrayed in moody blues and purples, the Little Blue Heron is a common but inconspicuous resident of marshes and estuaries in the Southeast. They stalk shallow waters for small fish and amphibians, adopting a quiet, methodical approach that can make these gorgeous herons surprisingly easy to overlook at first glance. Little Blue Herons build stick nests in trees alongside other colonial waterbirds. In the U.S., their populations have been in a gradual decline since the mid-twentieth

Source:

All About Birds, The Cornell Lab of Omithology

My first shot of the bird. Also called the Median Egret, Smaller Egret, or Yellow-billed Egret. It is a medium-sized Heron that is a resident breeder from east Africa across the Indian subcontinent to Southeast Asia and Australia. The Intermediate Egret stalks its prey methodically in shallow coastal or fresh water, including flooded fields. It eats fish, frogs, crustaceans and insects.

Quai de Seine, Paris.

Song by Depeche Mode.

Six and a half years ago, the scientists of SETI began receiving garbled and unintelligible communications from points unknown. What they could perceive came out as a series of clicking sounds, but they repeated precisely indicating that some form of intelligence was behind the transmissions, not something randomly generated as was first thought. The top linguists on the globe were brought in to analyze the communications until finally five years after initial contact one Professor Winnefred Littledove from Lichtenstein made a breakthrough and with an army of people and computers behind her, she at long last was able to decipher the clicking into words. Those words were chilling and they read, 'Your planet is in danger, we are here to help.'

The reply was made simple for the sake of expedience and yet took days to form, 'how so?' Littledove pushed the send button herself and silence filled the room as no one even breathed in anticipation.

Two days later came the foreboding reply, 'We have been studying your world and can see that you are nearly at the point of no return in the effects of global warming, soon many thousands of species will cease to exist including yourselves if something isn't done immediately. We have a solution.'

After several days and many sleepless nights of translations

a response was hurriedly recorded and in less than an hour SETI sent its one word reply, 'Yes?'

Newly minted corporal Emmit Woodcock awoke the next morning feeling a bit fuzzy from the night before. His squad had taken him out to Galway Bay Pub and eatery where they proceeded to 'tack on' his new stripe, this is accomplished by punching the chevron on with great force to prevent it from ever coming off. Groggily he sat up and put on his slippers and headed for the loo to rid himself of a few ales. Sure enough, and the reason for the slippers, he came across yet another of his 'houseguests' and proceeded to stomp the cockroach with equal parts disgust and pleasure. "Twenty seven!" He proclaimed. No sooner had he finished his business the ancient air raid warning horns warbled on. He'd never heard one with the exception of in the movies, but there was no mistaking the noise. He hurriedly donned his OD's from the night before and dashed for the door, just before turning out the light he called out, "twenty eight!"

The ECM, emergency communication memo, on his phone ordered him to report to coordinates unknown to him and off he went. When he reached the park at Bellingham Bay his world became very surreal. An army, literally, of men were unloading sandbags from ancient deuce and a halfs and piling them to make a wall, a wall halfway around a glowing globe of tremendous size towering above them smoldering from its recent entry into Earth's atmosphere.

"What's going on?!"

Sgt. Jones gave Woodcock a quick glance, "It's an invasion, I hear that these things are landing everywhere, get busy with that wall!"

In between tosses of sandbags Emmit could see 50 cals. being set up left, right and center with infantry between. Yelling to be heard to the man next to him he asked, "what about tanks?"

"Armored is on its way, it's just us right now."

Suddenly all noises and movement ended as an audible mechanism inside of the alien craft whirred up and engaged. The bottom half of the orb opened as five doors swung slowly down and away in an unnatural and creepy movement much like a claw opening. Emmit vaguely heard the order to take cover, but he was transfixed on the otherworldly happenings transpiring before him and was consumed by the feeling of dread and although he was covered in sweat, he felt very cold. Then, through the murky darkness, the new corporal began to perceive movement, a slow, methodic wave of movement. Crawling out of the spacecraft came gigantic spiders, eight legged, multi eyed, hairy spiders and along with the clicking noises that they were making he went from cold to frozen. No one can remember if there was an actual order to fire, but fire they did. After the massacre was over there was much clapping on backs and cheering for their victory, for never was there a more fearsome enemy to overcome. Songs would surely be sung in their honor.

Back at SETI what would become known as the final transmission was finally translated roughly at the same time that the Battle of Bellingham Bay was taking place, it had taken days of work to decipher as it was longer than the rest and it read: "At last, it is so good that we can now communicate for we have so much that we want to impart to you. We have sent word to bring atmospheric condensers and we have the schematics here aboard ship so that when they arrive you will be able to set them up and not a moment too soon, any further delay would have meant a global catastrophe. I will send a team of scientists down now, help is on the way."

It was navigating along the edge of a pond. Its movements were slow and methodical, occasionally breaking the surface with its sharp beak as it hunted for food.

The pictures in this album are just a small taste of what awaits you in this lovely space. Additionally, for those that worry that a museum will bore you, know that this museum is different. It’s exciting presentation makes it enjoyable for anyone who likes to learn or who enjoys art in general. Children will especially love hunting for the different animals on display. Just remember to ask for the list at the front desk when you arrive.

Still not convinced? The Casa Alabado is small. I viewed the entire collection in about two hours. I am pretty slow and methodical, taking many pictures along the way. Others will likely need only an hour or so.

Finally, this museum is worth just a walkthrough as it grounds your experience in a city where the Spanish-colonial infrastructure overwhelms the ancient signs of the Andean people who lived here before Europeans invaded. Truly, this space tells the history of Ecuador before the times of Columbus in a unique way. This Brazilian traveler highly recommends you visit!

As someone who rarely manages to catch anything that's moving at more than a snail's pace, I'm always happy to come across a bee working its way slowly and methodically around a flower, gathering every tiny speck of pollen it can find. Actually, come to think of it, it was VERY windy when I took this, so I guess I did catch an action shot in a way. :)

Nikon Z7 ~ Zeiss Otus 85/1.4

Moving away from automatic focus lenses to manual focus only lenses has taught me to be a better composer and a more methodical photographer. I no longer feel rushed.

I have been shooting my camera in fully Manual Mode for years now and it has become second nature and now manually focusing is teaching me the same as it becomes second nature. Maybe it is my age (68) or just continuing to learn photography. I like this new phase. Combining manual focus only lenses with a mirrorless camera body becomes a joy rather than a chore even at wide open apertures.

Connecting the small country towns of South Central Texas, a sprawling capillary of ancient “farm roads” monitors and sustains the rural pulse 24/7.

Far less apparent, cast aside in shallow ditches, an endless parade of what we like to call “weeds” struggle to survive.

They endure the ravages of a hostile and coldly indifferent environment, only to be quickly erased by Mother Nature.

Methodically clearing space for all that has yet to come.

If it’s a cliche, so be it.

Life is indeed fleeting and fragile.

And tragically easy to miss.

May be the best caterpillar hunter ever! Hard to catch in the open.

Click on image to enlarge it.

This morning I was checking out a new location in the southern pond and I was able to get down the steep embankment and position myself almost right at the water's edge. As I sat and waited for the birds to return which I had disturbed when I first settled in, this little Wilson's Snipe poked its head out from among the bull rushes about 20 feet away. It started methodically foraging and working its way toward where I was.

I kept perfectly still and used my quiet shutter release mode and it never noticed me over the course of about 10 minutes. It eventually got so close to me that I was not able to focus my zoom lens even at the shortest focal length. At one point it looked like it was going to hop right into my open camera bag! What a wonderful gift this was to start my day!

From "All About Birds": "The rich song of the Warbling Vireo is a common sound in many parts of central and northern North America during summer. It’s a great bird to learn by ear, because its fast, rollicking song is its most distinctive feature. Otherwise, Warbling Vireos are fairly plain birds with gray-olive upperparts and white underparts washed with faint yellow. They have a mild face pattern with a whitish stripe over the eye. They stay high in deciduous treetops, where they move methodically among the leaves hunting for caterpillars".

Warbling Vireo -1330466

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In Explore, 09-06-2023. Thanks flickr!!

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The Moon represents a disturbing figure, eternal and ephemeral at the same time, captivating, where light and darkness debate in a constant dance, giving mystery to its reliefs and shapes.

Starting a day of photography and observation of the Moon is a ritual worthy of a method: find a quiet and dark place, level the telescope mount and balance the whole, arrange the cables that will make everything mechanical magically become electronic and digital, put the mount in station, turn on the notebook and start the software that, with our guideline, will do the magic.

On the night of the first day of June, the Moon rose after sunset showing its pristine clothing, inspiring and inviting us to spy on its details with a camera and an eyepiece. So, with the witness stars, I began the long process of capturing pieces of the Moon that could later be joined to form the entire disk.

I felt restless, careful, cautious, impatient, millimetric, mathematical, almost irritated. Imagining fragments, taking care that there are no missing pieces of the puzzle, concentrating on not making mistakes, I remembered a phrase that I read one rainy afternoon:

"Don't even try to talk to me when I'm looking at the moon." (Wendelin Van Draanen)

I recorded 22 videos of about 1500 frames of which I stacked and processed between 15% and 20% of the best ones. In the end, I needed 18 frames to make the full Moon.

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Moonlight spilled over the leaves of a palm tree; a slight breeze stirred them and the filaments randomly distributed the silver sparkles.

A persistent dew began to bathe the night and the yellow eyes of the black cat disturbed the attentive and dazed owl. A new methodical action awaited me: put away all my equipment. The session had ended.

Now that I see the result in this modest image, I think that perhaps the Moon could have lit up and surrounded by flames, like those mysterious objects that wizards and elves carry in the magical scenes of a fantastic work.

My Moon made of fragments is the same Moon from all corners, from all continents, from all coasts and all seas. The Moon of always, of any time. The Moon of the Earth, the Moon of men.

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Maksutov-Cassegrain telescope "Explore Scientific" 127 mm, f/15.

Player One Neptune-M camera.

Player One IR685 filter.

FireCapture, AstroSurface, Fitswork, Gimp.

Zona Rural, Concordia, Entre Ríos, Argentina, 2023-06-02-01:30 UT

This lady was methodically working this tree and provided many great looks. here with a Chironomus midge (these are the non biting midges). Hit "L" then "Z" twice to view detail

Sand Key. Tampa Bay Florida area. 9/6/2015.

I got some practice crawling slowly and methodically on my belly on labor day weekend. That technique seems to allow a much closer approach to shorebirds, without any altering of their behavior. They were far more concerned with people walking, and running up and down the beach. It is a bit of a strain on the neck however to get that blurred background and foreground with that low angle shooting. I think some elbow pads would come in handy next trip, especially for a shell strewn beach.

Key West Harbor - sunset's final moment

Key West, Florida U.S.A. - The Florida Keys

SUNSET - Autumn Light 2022 - 11/25/22

*[left-double-click for a closer-look - Full-Sails - sunset-cruise]

I watched her as she circled the harbor, with the very intense

sunset sky magnificently changing, minute by colorful minute.

Each shot I took of her was quite different in color and light,

constantly and methodically changing. I knew that on her

last turn to Port I would have her at the perfect spot and at

the perfect time. Fun captures. Only problem: I love them all.

*[taken aboard the "Commotion on the Ocean" Fury Catamaran

Sunset Cruise in Key West Harbor with the Cory Heydon Band]

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Key_West,_Florida

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Florida_keys

"Margaritaville" - Alan Jackson & Jimmy Buffett

www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4XtBiWgXLE

"It's Five-Oclock Somewhere" - Alan Jackson & Jimmy Buffett

www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPCjC543llU

Could watch these stunning birds all day, that slow methodical flight is mesmerising.

For best view hit 'L' for large on black.

Rather large, fairly common woodcreeper of tropical forest in both dry and humid areas. Feeds mainly on larger trunks, often probing into bromeliads and moving methodically. (source: www.ebird.com)

I love Kestrels. They have beautiful colors, display effortless hovering and the methodical way in which they hunt.

Unfortunately they don't like posing for me much - LOL.

This shot was photographed in 2009 with my old Nikon D90, 12mp camera.

For the last few months I have been reaching back into my hard drives and pulling out images that could use a facelift with the latest in editing technology.

This image was heavily cropped on top of the 12mp starting point.

Topaz Gigapixel increased the size and took care of the pixelated edges. (Did you know that Gigapixel not only increases the size of the image but also takes out those square pixels and replaces them with useable details? - Just remarkable).

Topaz Denoise took care of the noise while I applied some of my unique LAB Color Space tweaks.

Photographed near Taber, Alberta, Canada in the summer of 2009'.

Retiring blackbird of thickets and tangles. Heard much more often than seen, as pairs keep in touch with ‘question and answer calling.’ Creeps methodically in vines and tangles, and most frequently seen as it flies low across a trail or quiet road, usually with one member of the pair following shortly after the other. Note the pale ivory-yellow bill and staring yellow eyes, often striking even with a quick flight view.

Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary, Belize. January 2011.

The red light pulsed, saturating the chamber in heat and shadow. It bled from the ceiling, casting the vast room in a hellish glow. Kayla stood at the threshold, stunned.

Before her stretched an ocean of eggs—millions upon millions of eggs, arranged in endless rows atop low platforms, each separated by narrow walkways stretching out for maybe miles.

She moved slowly down a row, absorbing the magnitude. Teams of reptilians glided between the rows, their clawed hands manipulating devices that blinked and hummed. Scanners, perhaps—checking for signs of life. Heartbeats. Movement. She couldn’t be sure.

Kayla knelt and ran her hand over one of the eggs, its surface mottled and faintly iridescent. She touched it, rolled it gently. It was heavier than it looked—dense. Then, another egg rocked on its own. Something inside stirred.

She gasped. They’re alive. They’re ready.

This IS the event—the one she overheard the officers talking about. And it was imminent. Hours, maybe less.

Suddenly, a harsh buzzer split the air. Kayla quickly flinched, quickly retreating to the edge of the room.

From hidden corridors, hundreds of reptilians surged in, moving with eerie coordination. They fanned out, each taking part of a row, and began turning the eggs—one by one, methodically, reverently. Ritualistic.

When the final egg was turned, they froze. Silent. Waiting.

The buzzer sounded again. As one, they departed.

Kayla wiped sweat from her brow, her breath shallow. She understood now why her kin had failed in previous attempts to destroy the nest. This was no isolated clutch—it’s a spawning ground beyond anything imagined. The scale was monstrous.

She scanned the chamber, calculating. The explosives she’d been sent forward in time with—might be insufficient. Not for this. Not all at once.

She pulled out her VDD, recording the nest coordinates. She would have to return again and again to plant the charges. They are heavy and she was only able to carry two at a time.

And time was slipping through her fingers.

Kayla jumped back to the coordinates outside the mound. She reappeared just beyond the mound entrance.

Sirens wailed, and missiles screamed skyward in jagged arcs. She clamped her hands over her ears as the air fractured around her— a dozen warheads carving contrails through the clouds.

No time to parse the chaos. She had to return to the shelter and start moving the explosive charges to the nest.

She jumped.

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You can view Quantum Fold episodes in order from the beginning in her album titled, Quantum Fold:

www.flickr.com/photos/199076397@N02/albums/72177720326169...

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This is an A.I. image generated using my SL avi.

I hope my pictures make you smile ♥

If you like what you see, please toss me a fav and follow me. I love seeing your comments. They make my day and keep me motivated!

I love my followers. You guys totally ROCK! ♥♥

And if you're taking time to read this you are SO awesome!!! Thank you!!!! ♥♥♥

Here's a link to my other Flickr photos/ images:

www.flickr.com/photos/199076397@N02/

© All Rights Reserved. Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my prior permission.

www.brianwehrung.com

Eurasian Sparrowhawk / accipiter nisus. Leeds, Yorkshire. 18/03/25.

Just one last look with those wonderful golden yellow eyes, before flying off.

The young male Sparrowhawk had methodically devoured a bird and then sidled further along the dead branch to wipe his beak. You can see he didn't do a very thorough job!

BEST VIEWED LARGE

A Northern Hawk Owl begins the methodical dismantling of its prey.

Thorhild County, Alberta.

Like most other birds, peregrine falcons spend a lot of time each day preening. It’s an essential daily activity that removes parasites and helps to repel rain water. I recently watched (from a distance) as this peregrine falcon spent about 20 minutes or so preening along the side of the road at the Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge. It was a foggy morning with few refuge visitors, and so he was able to complete his preening without being disturbed. Preening birds run their beaks through their feathers, using a gland that secretes an oily substance that cleans and protects the feathers. A bird will work through the feathers methodically, preening them all.

Key West Harbor - two un-inhabited islands

Key West, Florida U.S.A. - The Florida Keys

SUNSET - Autumn Haze 2022 - 11/25/22

*[left-double-click for a closer-look - harbor-beauty - seagulls]

*[channel-marker - seagull-perch - double-masted schooner]

I watched her as she circled the harbor, with the very intense

sunset sky magnificently changing, minute by colorful minute.

Each shot I took of her was quite different in color and light,

constantly and methodically changing. I knew that on her

last turn to Port I would have her at the perfect spot and at

the perfect time. Fun captures. Only problem: I love them all.

*[taken aboard the "Commotion on the Ocean" Fury Catamaran

Sunset Cruise in Key West Harbor with the Cory Heydon Band]

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Key_West,_Florida

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Florida_keys

"Margaritaville" - Alan Jackson & Jimmy Buffett

www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4XtBiWgXLE

"It's Five-Oclock Somewhere" - Alan Jackson & Jimmy Buffett

www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPCjC543llU

A small, dark heron arrayed in moody blues and purples, the Little Blue Heron is a common but inconspicuous resident of marshes and estuaries in the Southeast. They stalk shallow waters for small fish and amphibians, adopting a quiet, methodical approach that can make these gorgeous herons surprisingly easy to overlook at first glance.

Canon EOS 90D camera

150-600mm F5-6.3 Sigma DG OS HSM | Contemporary

1/800 f5.6 ISO100 250mm

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

Vincent Gomez :

I admired the singing and voice of Vincent Gomez, who was a choir singer in a local church. Those days, every singer dreamt of becoming a playback singer, and Vincent did accomplish that at a young age. In my childhood, I used to see him ply through the city roads riding a Vijay scooter, wearing a cap with its side flaps let loose that they look like drooping puppy ears.

In my teenage, I was active as a singer and also as a photographer. Photography with film being an expensive hobby, I was eager to contribute my service for free if someone solicits my help to cover events and rituals. While they pay for the film roll, developing and printing, I found out that I can experiment and learn, as well as help them. Hence, I have covered many weddings, baptisms and funerals at the local church where he sings the choir. As I viewed him in recognition of his outstanding achievement as a playback singer, we exchanged greetings when we meet as he knows me as a singer.

He would be at the choir-aisle with methodical movements as required in a choir. Though busy, he often acknowledges my presence with a slight bow of his head. We seldom got the time or chance to talk. His voice is very familiar to me that I can hear him sing right when I remember him.

He looked handsome, but he never cared for his looks. Many singers of those days were envious of him, and some of them mistook his staid attitude as arrogance and ego.

Vincent was busy with choirs and devotional songs when he received the breakthrough in 1988. He got the chance to succeed as a playback singer with a song written and composed by the legends in the Malayalam filmdom. The song 'Number Lesham', written by P. Bhaskaran, had music composed by G. Devarajan for the movie 'Athirukal'. The song situation being comical; the music director wanted him to sing it with apt expression and feeling. He did his job pretty well, but unfortunately, both songs in the movie flopped, including the other one sung by the great K.J. Yesudas. The green-eyed lot who earlier lost their sleep at his accomplishment gleefully celebrated the failure. They jibed that the lyrics of the song has come true. The verse "Entey jeevitham naaya nakki" many times repeated in the song, roughly translated, means, "My life is licked by a dog", else "My life has gone to waste". I am unsure whether he took the mocking and teasing seriously, but I heard that he subsequently led a disquieted life though he remained busy with choirs.

Many years later, when his son, a Popular cricket player, proudly and joyfully called home to share the greatest achievement of his life, Vincent was found dead hanging himself.

Aazhathil Ninnu : Aazhathil Ninnu

"Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord. Let your ears be attentive to my mind's wail."

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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

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Anuj Nair's Official Blog

www.anujnair.net

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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials 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 written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

Rose-coloured Starling / pastor roseus. Collingham, West Yorkshire. 09/06/20.

'CHERRY PICKER.'

This colourful vagrant was one of about 50 birds to turn up in the UK during early June, part of an irruption from Asia/E. Europe. It had found itself a well-laden cherry tree as a main food source and methodically picked them off as they ripened. The local Blackbirds and Common Starlings were soon driven off if they encroached too close to this feisty visitor.

BEST VIEWED LARGE ... (as large as possible!)

American Crows are familiar over much of the continent: large, intelligent, all-black birds with hoarse, cawing voices. They are common sights in treetops, fields, and roadsides, and in habitats ranging from open woods and empty beaches to town centers. They usually feed on the ground and eat almost anything – typically earthworms, insects and other small animals, seeds, and fruit but also garbage, carrion, and chicks they rob from nests. Their flight style is unique, a patient, methodical flapping that is rarely broken up with glides.

source: Cornell Lab of Orinthology

“Jazz is smooth and cool. Jazz is rage. Jazz flows like water. Jazz never seems to begin or end. Jazz isn't methodical, but jazz isn't messy either. Jazz is a conversation, a give and take. Jazz is the connection and communication between musicians. Jazz is abandon.”

- Nat Wolff

Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=yd_-8Iv_Bk8

HOW WONDERFUL YOU ARE – GORDON HASKELL

SUMMERTIME JAZZ

Dazzle the world with your eyes of brown

play jazz to me in the long languid nights

play love songs; add flat notes

on the ebony & ivory in old downtown

play the blues on the keys in old Harry's bar

in the old ways of love we dreamed from afar;

look at me darling with your eyes subdued

Passion will do that; create a misty view

in the smoky-hazed cafes where I made love to you

amid the profanities; beguiling acts and the air so blue

Frazzle the world with your heart deep blood red

play sweet platitudes where you're generously fed

Bejazzle the world with white diamonds so bright

the envy of all the bright stars in the sky tonight

Strum with your fingers all the songs that I know

play violin, cello with Cupid's sweet bow

Melancholy, solemnity finds no place to go

when you are near and can whisper all the love that you show

pluck at the strings of a heavenly harp

paint me a rainbow in the colours of Koi carp

there's nothing we can't do when it feels so right

dance me away from the mellow street lights

to the sultry back streets and alleys so dark

the danger is intoxicating;

vibrating and pulsing through our veins

we take any risk to flood our blood

with adrenalin to pour down the drains

we are young, free and stupid with love

and music playing songs in our heads; lullabies in bed;

up with the larks; burn the candle both ends

jazz, blues and passion and brandied sweet kisses

warm yet contentious, but never pretentious

we argue so heatedly; so honestly fraught

with all of the knowledge our education bought

we make rash assumptions

act without gumption

but when the sparks fly; we know then we're too young to die

yet we still push our luck; risk our lives for a buck

betting and staking all that we have

the shirt off your back; the knowledge we lack

about life we're still learning

about love we're still yearning

we want to grow old just so we can say

we misspent our youth in the most glorious of ways ...

- AP - Copyright remains with the author

My artwork is a compilation of 5 of my photographs

Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission'