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Wishing you all a very Happy & Healthy New Year!
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Long Island, New York
A 4 shot pano in landscape mode and stitched by my brother Graham.
For some reason my Elements stitching would not work properly.
This entrance also gives access to The Gloucester and Sharpness Canal .
The Severn Bridge can also just be seen,middle left.
‘She would have been a good woman if there had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life’!
-Flannery O'Connor, A Good Man is Hard to Find
This quotation, at the end of the story, reveals the Misfit’s understanding of what has occurred in the grandmother’s final moments, and he seems to recognize two things about her. First, he fully understands that despite her obvious belief in her moral superiority—which she conveys through her self-proclaimed identification as a “lady” and religious instruction—the grandmother is not, in fact, a good woman. She is flawed and weak, and her age grants her no particular rights for respect or reverence. Second, the Misfit recognizes that when facing death, the grandmother has the capacity to be a good woman. In her final moments, she foregoes the moral high ground she’d staunchly held and instead embraces her and the Misfit’s common humanity. The Misfit observes this shift and seems to realize what it means: if the grandmother could have lived her life at gunpoint, so to speak, she could have gained the self-awareness and compassion that she’d lacked.
/*******
“For me Christian faith fulfils us by dismantling us in unwelcome ways.“
-The Human Poetry of Faith A Spiritual Guide to Life Michael Paul Gallagher, S.J.
“Even on a human level we are afraid to love. We fear its price. Therefore we compromise and look for a cheaper way to live.“
.. “Can we ever be changed by grace without a blasting annihilating light, a blast that will last a lifetime? Grace is not always gentle. It has to be rough to get through the fortifications.”
-The Human Poetry of Faith A Spiritual Guide to Life Michael Paul Gallagher, S.J.
We have occasional visits from Coelioxys Sharp-tailed Bees in our Staffordshire garden. Here's the first I've seen in 2020. Coelioxys bees are brood parasites of various leafcutter bee species, so if you have a bee-hotel in your garden, keep a look-out for them.
Three species have been recorded in the county; C. inermais, C. elongata and C. rufescens. They are very difficult to differentiate, even more so from photographs. This female was on one of our bee-hotels. I managed to catch her and photograph her. I returned her safely to the same spot afterwards.
Sharp-tailed grouse.
Recently we were invited to visit Manitoulin Island to see a sharp tailed grouse lek.
It was amazing. We were in a blind and the birds were about 10 feet away.
We saw about 40 birds, some down in the grass and a few more in the open. This one was at the road side as we were leaving.
May 1, 2025, Ontario, Canada.
Tympanuchus phasianellus
Scientists place Sharp-tailed Grouse in genus Tympanuchus, the prairie-chickens. The word means “drum nape” and refers to the purple air sacs (extensions of the esophagus) that displaying males inflate at the side of the neck. These sacs are not simply adornments. They amplify the male’s cooing courtship call and may help to show off his overall health.
While trying to photograph a group of agitated blue jays at my feeder, this young hawk came out of the trees and landed directly in front of me on a trellis. It stayed long enough for me to take this shot.
Upper Peninsula of Michigan
Sharp-shinned_0512_DxO-proc-01-sc01b
On April 29th I started my day at 2:45 am. I drove with three friends to a lek in Southern Alberta. We had to be in the blind by 5 am. It sure took a long time before there was enough light to take photos. We could hear the grouse. They were making many sounds and e could see their outlines in the dark. It was another great day. The last time I was out there was two years ago.
I was using a brand new camera so I had many photos to delete and of course far too many photos over all. Most photos were only cropped. I didn't adjust any colors. Some photos are not even cropped.
Thanks for your visits and comments. They are all greatly appreciated!
as if looking out of a window... dedicated to helmet13 and his intense and artful way of photography...
pictures are made in our brain. there must not be too much information, but we can understand atmosphere and meaning when we spend a moment of time... just see with your heart :=)))
Those little things that you stick in the ends of your corn cob so you don't get your fingers messy. In theory anyway.
Kenton County, KY, 11-24-18. I don't often see these, especially in my backyard. This one stayed nearly motionless for about an hour in the same spot.
I jhimages.co.uk I Twitter I
This is the new shopping centre in Las Vegas. The building on the right is a Prada store. I took a similar shot in a different orientation which I will put in the comments.
Sharp-tailed Grouse (Tympanuchus phasianellus) male on a "lek" or dancing grounds on the prairie landscape of Camp Wainwright Military Base at Wainwright, Alberta, Canada.
3 May, 2016.
Slide # GWB_20160503_0123.CR2
Use of this image on websites, blogs or other media without explicit permission is not permitted.
© Gerard W. Beyersbergen - All Rights Reserved Worldwide In Perpetuity - No Unauthorized Use.
Walking through the neighborhood this evening and my sharp eyed son spotted this sharp shin hawk. The hawk was not 10 feet up the tree and sat for a minute as I got off at least 10 shots.
VdB150 Shark nebula
30 Agosto 2024
Località: Ravenna - Fraz. San Romualdo (RA)
Rifrattore Apo Tecnosky AG70
Avalon M-Zero - Eagle5.
Autoguida con QHY5III 185C su Tecnosky Sharp Guide 50 v2
QHY533C raffreddato -5
Filtro Baader UV-Ircut - 114x3min
Acquisizione: Astroart8 - Calibrata con Bias
Elaborazione: Astroart9, StarTools1.9, Affinity Photo2 e Paint Shop Pro2023.
www.cfm2004.altervista.org/astrofotografia/nebulose/vdb15...
For my friend NatuurfotoRien/Rien in Holland, who loves corvids.
I had this odd notion that when I retire I would carve a totem pole, and so over the years, I learned more and more about northwest coast art, culture, and carving. One of the pieces I studied was this - a huge cedar sculpture carved by the great sculptor, Bill Reid, to whom the telling of this ancient story is credited.
Bill Reid was a Haida indian (Haida is their word for “human”). The Haida tribe lives in the Queen Charlotte Islands off the coast of northern Canada (below Alaska), in a special place they call Haida Gwaii. Bill is widely credited for reviving the arts of the northwest coast - he was an amazing sculptor. I am disappointed I will never meet him.
The northwest coast tribes have many gods - all animals. Raven is the Haida equivalent of “fox”. Tricky, playful, smart, inquisitive - these are all qualities of Raven, whose play and trickery created the stars in the sky, the sun, the ocean and man.
The man-size (literally) sculpture is inside the University of British Columbia museum in Vancouver, Canada. When it was installed, Bill had the children of Haida Gwaii come to the installation - each with bottles of sand from the beach at Haida Gwaii, so Raven, could be installed in his native soil.
Here is his telling of their genesis myth - one of the most sacred stories in Haida culture:
The Story of the Raven Creating Man by Bill Reid
The great flood which had covered the earth for so long had receded, and even the thin strip of sand now called Rose Spit, stretching north from Naikun village lay dry. The Raven had flown there to gorge himself on the delicacies left by the receding water, so for once he wasn't hungry. But his other appetites - lust, curiosity and the unquenchable itch to meddle and provoke things, to play tricks on the world and its creatures - these remained unsatisfied.
He had recently stolen the light from the old man who kept it hidden in a box in his house in the middle of the darkness, and had scattered it throughout the sky. The new light spattered the night with stars and waxed and wane in the shape of the moon. And it dazzled the day with a single bright shining which lit up the long beach that curved from the spit beneath Raven's feet westward as far as Tao Hill. Pretty as it was, it looked lifeless and so to the Raven quite boring. He gave a great sigh, crossed his wings behind his back and walked along the sand, his shiny head cocked, his sharp eyes and ears alert for any unusual sight or sound. Then taking to the air, he called petulantly out to the empty sky. To his delight, he heard an answering cry - or to describe it more closely, a muffled squeak.
At first he saw nothing, but as he scanned the beach again, a white flash caught his eye, and when he landed he found at his feet, buried in the sand, a gigantic clamshell. When he looked more closely still, he saw that the shell was full of little creatures cowering in terror of his enormous shadow.
Well, here was something to break the monotony of his day. But nothing was going to happen as long as the tiny things stayed in the shell, and they certainly weren't coming out in their present terrified state. So the Raven leaned his great head close to the shell, and with the smooth trickster's tongue that had got him into and out of so many misadventures during his troubled and troublesome existence, he coaxed and cajoled and coerced the little creatures to come out and play in his wonderful, shiny new world. As you know the Raven speaks in two voices, one harsh and strident, and the other, which he used now, a seductive bell-like croon which seems to come from the depths of the sea, or out of the cave where the winds are born. It is an irresistible sound, one of the loveliest sounds in the world. So it wasn't long before one and then another of the little shell-dwellers timidly emerged. Some of them immediately scurried back when they saw the immensity of the sea and the sky, and the overwhelming blackness of the Raven. But eventually curiosity overcame caution and all of them had crept or scrambled out. Very strange creatures they were: two-legged like the Raven, but there the resemblance ended. They had no glossy feathers, no thrusting beak. Their skin was pale, and they were naked except for the long black hair on their round, flat-featured heads. Instead of strong wings, they had thin stick-like appendages that waved, and fluttered constantly. They were the original Haidas, the first humans.
For a long time the Raven amused himself with his new playthings, watching them as they explored their much expanded-world. Sometimes they helped one another in their new discoveries. Just as often, they squabbled over some novelty they found on the beach. And the Raven taught them some clever tricks, at which they proved remarkably adept. But the Raven's attention span was brief, and he grew tired of his small companions. For one thing, they were all males. He had looked up and down the beach for female creatures, hoping to make the game more interesting, but females were nowhere to be found. He was about to shove the now tired, demanding and quite annoying little creatures back into their shell and forget about them when suddenly - as happens so often with the Raven - he had an idea.
He picked up the men, and in spite of their struggles and cries of fright he put them on his broad back, where they hid themselves among his feathers. Then the Raven spread his wings and flew to North Island. the tide was low, and the rocks, as he had expected, were covered with those large but soft-lipped molluscs known as red chitons. The Raven shook himself gently, and the men slid down his back to the sand. The he flew to the rock and with his strong beak pried a chiton from its surface.
Now, if any of you have ever examined the underside of a chiton, you may begin to understand what the Raven had in his libidinous, devious mind. He threw back his head and flung the chiton at the nearest of the men. His aim was as unerring as only a great magician's can be, and the chiton found its mark in the delicate groin of the startled, shell-born creature. There the chiton attached itself firmly. Then as sudden as spray hitting the rocks from a breaking wave, a shower of chitons broke over the wide-eyed humans, as each of the open-mouthed shellfish flew inexorably to its target.
Nothing quite like this had ever happened to the men. They had never dreamed of such a thing during their long stay in the clamshell. They were astounded, embarrassed, confused by a rush of new emotions and sensations. They shuffled and squirmed, uncertain whether it was pleasure or pain they were experiencing. They threw themselves down on the beach, where a great storm seemed to break over them, followed just as suddenly by a profound calm. One by one the chitons dropped off. The men staggered to their feet and headed slowly down the beach, followed by the raucous laughter of the Raven, echoing all the way to the great island to the north which we now call Prince of Wales.
That first troop of male humans soon disappeared behind the nearest headland, passing out of the games of the Raven and the story of humankind. Whether they found their way back to the shell, or lived out their lives elsewhere, or perished in the strange environment in which they found themselves, nobody remembers, and perhaps nobody cares. They had played their roles and gone their way.
Meanwhile the chitons had made their way back to the rock, where they attached themselves as before. But they too had been changed. As high tide followed low and the great storms of winter gave way to the softer rains and warm sun of spring, the chitons grew and grew, many times larger than their kind had ever been before. Their jointed shells seemed about to fly apart from the enormous pressure within them. And one day a huge wave swept over the rock, tore them from their footholds and carried them back to the beach. As the water receded and the warm sun dried the sand, a great stirring began among the chitons. From each emerged a brown skinned, black-haired human. This time there were both males and females among them, and the Raven could begin his greatest game: the one that still goes on.
They were no timid shell-dwellers these, but children of the wild coast, born between the sea and land, challenging the strength of the stormy North Pacific and wresting from it rich livelihood. Their descendants built on its beaches the strong, beautiful homes of the Haidas and embellished them with the powerful heraldic carvings that told of the legendary beginnings of great families, all the heros and heroines and the gallant beasts and monsters who shaped their world and their destinies. For many generations they grew and flourished, built and created, fought and destroyed, living according to the changing seasons and the unchanging rituals of their rich and complex lives.
It's nearly over now. Most of the villages are abandoned, and those which have not entirely vanished lie in ruins. The people who remain are changed. The sea has lost much of its richness, and great areas of land itself lie in waste. Perhaps it's time the Raven started looking for another clamshell.
Sharp-tailed Sandpiper
Another shot of a Sharp-tailed Sandpiper feeding along the sand flats at low tide.
Scientific name: Calidris acuminata
Was messing around with wall designs and ended up with this thing. Version of Quincy Sharp's office, not really based on anything specific.
Threw a bunch of stuff on his shelves that he's hoarded from his inmates. :)
Tell me what you guys think!
The peculiar design of the CC-40110 electric powered locomotive launched in 1964 on French railways, retired in 1996. AJECTA, Longueville (77)
Small as accipiters go, but high intensity — that encapsulates the identity of Sharp-shinned Hawk (a smaller relative of Cooper’s Hawk and American Goshawk [formerly called Northern Goshawk)]. This image from Carburn Park, Calgary, Alberta, Canada, shows some salient features of Sharp-shinned Hawk: those piercing eyes, the long talons, and a long banded tail (which enables navigating among trees in chase of prey, usually small songbirds).
She obtained .many rewards, her accouchement fatal . Her brother placed many of posters like this all around our city.
The bird feeders have not been well-patronized lately as our local Sharpie has been keeping an eye on the activity. Amazingly, this bird perched only 25 feet away from me for 5 minutes and didn't seem to mind me so close.
These cobra-like plants, Darlingtonia californica, are found natively in the bog areas of Northern California and Southwestern Oregon. They flower in May or June with hanging blooms of yellow and red and produce up to a dozen leaves per plant. Erect seed pods remain most of the summer. Insects are lured into the leaf opening under the hood by nectar on the colorful "petal-like" appendages and the edges of the opening. Once inside the hood the insects become confused by the many transparent areas in the upper parts of the leaves which appear as exits. Keeping a foothold on the glassy smooth upper surface of the tube is difficult, and eventually the insects are trapped in the lower tube by sharp downward pointing hairs. After falling into a pool of liquid at the base of the leaf, the captive is digested and absorbed as food through the plant's thin lower walls.
I think I know why we have no birds in the yard today.
Sharp-shinned hawk sitting in the bush behind our water feature.
Rondeau Provincial Park, Ontario, Canada, December 4, 2024
Accipiter striatus
Female Sharp-shinned Hawks are about a third bigger and heavier than males. This is a typical pattern for many hawks and owls, but otherwise rare in the bird world.