View allAll Photos Tagged scraping
Restharrow Scrape
I popped into Restharrow Scrape yesterday afternoon for an hour or so. There were quite a few Black-headed Gulls, many of them displaying and courting, but then I heard the (now) unmistakeable call of a Mediterranean Gull, so I went to the new hide to get a better look. There were at least 2 birds, one with the full black hood, but this still had black wing bars like the 2nd winter birds. I found this article - Identification of immature Mediterranean Gulls By P. J. Grant and R. E. Scott - Dungeness Bird Observatory
A complete autumn moult (July-September) produces a near-adult plumage, but a small, varying number of outer primaries retain fine black tippings and the soft parts have yet to attain their full colour. This plumage is followed by a body moult in the spring when the black head is obtained, but the black wing tippings remain."
Walking along the river Lea we spotted what looked like condensation coming off the top of one of the buildings in Canary Wharf, London. It almost looked like the building was "scraping" the clouds as they swam by in the sky. The photograph doesn't do the moment justice, sadly, but at least it captures the feeling of what we saw somewhat.
this game camera is set up on a 'scrape' which is that little piece of open ground between the turkey and doe....you can look in up but this is where deer mark their scent during rut. Bucks will paw and urinate on the ground, they will be located with a branch above for them to rub the facial glands in order to leave their scent as well.
A long bolt of lightning finally figures out it needs to hit ground, but not before taking the long way from the sky! Shot on the Bethany Road extension on the far west side of DeKalb, IL.
Together
Poor Shizandra has been hiding at the back of the house most of the morning. With all the noise on the roof from the scraping sounds it's got her spooked. So I thought a hug was in order to comfort her. You can see from her expression she's scared.
Whilst Himmy is of to repair shop for the crash stuff fixing!!
Hit a patch of oil/mud/farmer's slime or something on a right-hand bend in the rain. Not going fast at all. I had just pulled away from a giveway over a small bridge on a country lane. So whoops, Himmy slid sideways and went down and I slid a bit too! (Ended up in a puddle! ) No other vehicles around, so got up, switched ignition off, put side stand out and lifted Himmy up onto its side stand.
Rolled it forward a bit to be safe away from any traffic coming round the bend.
Then a bit of an inspection of bike and me!
Broke windscreen, right hand mirror, right side handguard and brake lever!
Fair amount of scrapes/scratches on paint work of crash bars and pannier rack. Sigh!!
I have grazed my knee and elbow..
Interestingly, I have proven my biker jeans (with Kevlar lining) work well!
The jean bit rubbed through, but the Kevlar part stayed and did its job!!
I rubbed a hole in my rain over jacket as well but no damage to my motorcycle jacket.
Started bike up checked lights and brakes and drove home!!
Sandwich, Kent.
One of around 500 birds on the scrape.
This dabbling duck is highly gregarious outside of the breeding season and will form large flocks. In flight, the fast, twisting flocks resemble waders; despite its short legs, it is also rather nimble on the ground by ducks' standards. In the breeding season, it is a common inhabitant of sheltered freshwater wetlands with some tall vegetation, such as taiga bogs or small lakes and ponds with extensive reedbeds. In winter, it is often seen in brackish waters and even in sheltered inlets and lagoons along the seashore. Wikipedia
The house I live in is a little over a century old. Built by my great grandparents back in the day. The staircase to the second floor has a white wall-to-wall carpet that dates back a few decades. The carpet was well glued to the stairs, but it was also on it's last leg as it had started to fall apart here and there so earlier today I took this scrape and began removing the old carpet.
Again, not a brilliant picture but good enough to convey the huge size of the twelve axle monster, a modified transformer wagon built in 1963 by Head Wrightson of Thornaby on Tees. Under TOPS it was designated PXX and carried the number MODA 95780.
The flask was carried vertically suspended with its base about 10 cm above the rail level, though from a distance it looked to be almost in contact with the rail.
The wagon was 27.25 metres (89ft 5 ins) long and weighed 94.4 tonnes. The flask weighed 110 tonnes, that's a gross laden weight of over 204 tonnes carried on its twelve axles. For much of its journey it would travel as an out of gauge load.
In a pre CCTV era the escort coaches - designated PPX - are fitted with periscopes to enable views across the top of the load.
You might notice that oak branch that spreads to the ground in a lot of my buck photos this fall. There is a scrape there that a half-dozen bucks are using. Blackie hears another buck approaching. Activity has slowed recently.
Our beautiful world, pass it on.
I went out to get milk and came across this Bald Eagle sitting in a field overlooking a carcass.
I have to go out for milk more often.
Word spread quickly across Lenfald of High Lord Triphian's stand against the other leaders of Roawia. News soon reached even the westernmost cities and towns, and Darrenspur was no exception. The first messengers rode in just after nightfall on the eve of the Frülingsfest, a yearly tradition celebrating the arrival of spring and the start of the growing season.
Late in the night, a heavy knock fell upon Abner's door.
"Abner, waken yourself! We haven't a moment to waste."
Abner was instantly wide awake, his soldier's instincts springing him immediately into awareness. Serena mumbled something in her sleep as Abner quietly slipped out of bed. He turned, kissed her softly, and hastily whispered, "I love you," before moving toward the hall.
Icarus, the younger of Abner's two dogs, lifted his head questioningly as his master left. Halberd did not even stir.
"Some watchdogs you are," thought Abner with a smile.
He hurried to the front door, grabbing his bow and quiver on his way out. His sword was already with him- it never left his side.
Abner stepped out onto the stoop and closed the door softly behind him, then turned questioningly to the man who awaited him.
"What brings you at this hour, Konrad?" queried Abner.
Konrad was an old friend who had enlisted with Abner. They had both been selected to become rangers around the same time as well and had fought together every time they had seen combat.
"Abner, listen to me. The High Lord just denied Chartres the throne. The boy wanted to marry the daughter of that witch Galainir."
Abner was appalled. "What?? I know this will play well into that rat Jarius' hand, but tell me the Jarl at least had enough sense to see the folly in this decision!"
Konrad shook his head gravely. "Nay, friend. In this we stand alone. The Captain himself met our patrol after nightfall and ordered us to rouse the whole company." Konrad paused. "Abner, you know what this means... we may be gone for some time. Do you need some time to talk to Serena?"
Abner shook his head. "You know she's used to it by now. She can say goodbye in her sleep and know it happened in the morning."
"Then let's be off with haste."
The two men took off at a run down the path to Darrenspur.
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The day of the Frülingsfest dawned a much more somber one than most had been expecting. The people had been eager for a hopeful celebration after years of war and hardship, only to be met once again with grim news.
Darrenspur's militia had been mustered and was busy with various tasks, from sharpening weapons and fletching arrows to helping workers mine stone for new fortifications.
The Rangers had been briefed the night before and had dispersed to perform their various duties. Abner and Konrad were sent to the local army recruiting station to seek out potential enlistees who possessed the skills to join the Rangers. Everyone knew that war with Loreos was a distinct possibility, and more men would be needed for that fight.
Inside the recruiting station, Abner and Konrad watched as the fancifully dressed recruiter spoke with potential enlistees.
"Yes, it's exactly like how you imagined it! You'll slay a dragon for sure and you're bound to meet a beautiful dame in a foreign land who will be eager for you to take her away! Now, just sign this parchment saying that you are now property of the Province of Lenfald..."
"Think he's seen a day of combat in his life?" muttered Konrad.
"He's probably one of those supply types. Just sits back and drinks all of our mead while we fight," chuckled Abner. "Can you believe the nonsense he's feeding these poor boys?"
"They'll learn soon enough," replied Konrad. "They'll figure out what they signed up for and they will overcome their fears. We did."
Abner nodded in agreement. "Still, there are fewer men here than I was expecting. Looks like we're scraping the bottom of the barrel. Not too many prospects to choose from."
"Most of those who were capable died in the last two wars," commented Konrad.
"Looks like we may be reporting back to the Captain empty-handed then," replied Abner.
"Let's hope not."