To Parnassus or the Scaffold
View allAll Photos Tagged skittering
This Six-lined Racerunner, a native species, was seen in Wheatridge, Colorado, on the green-belt pathway along Clear Creek.
Its body was about 7" long (12cm), and its tail was equally as long. True to its name, it skittered quickly in dry leaves and twigs alongside the path, its bright green a sharp contrast to the brown ground cover.
Males of this species have a blue underside (as seen in this picture); females have a whitish underside.
The scientific name in some field guides was Aspidoscelis sexlineatus; in other guides it was grouped in the genus of Whip-tailed lizards and named Cnemidophorus sexlineatus.
At barely 6 inches (15cm), the Least Sandpiper is the smallest sandpiper commonly found in North America. It's yellowish legs separate it from other small sandpipers.
There were several Least Sandpipers skittering quickly across the East Beach, Fort De Soto, Florida.
These little guys run so quickly! Had fun trying to nail a shot as they skittered around the beach in Point Pelee National Park
I was very surprised to find my big boy, Jaspyr, hiding in the beech hedge in my friends’ yard.
This house is almost two miles down the hill from mine!
Always the wanderer, he has been known to take off for a foray into the South Carrick Hills, sometimes for three days at a time. It drives me insane that I don’t know where he is, but he comes home, dying for a cuddle - and for something to eat - and sleeps until he’s hungry, again.
Here, he is hiding from me! He was very confused as to why I was there, at all. Having realised it was me, he came and sat on my knee, apparently thrilled at the chance to be cuddled so far from home. He was very nervous of his surroundings and was behaving very oddly - lolloping and skittering around, batting wee stones and sticks around...
He came home, later that evening, hungry and wanting more cuddles.
Wring out my heart, Jaspyr!
South Carrick Hills
SW Scotland
Diffused sunlight streaming through an overhanging Willow tree creates a really strange backdrop as a Migrant Hawker dragonfly skitters over the waters edge in pursuit of small insects
Start -----------o0o---------- Story Navigation ---------o0o-------- Previous
(This is the last in the series, I hope you have enjoyed it!)
Models: Teyla and Stokes :)
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On the night of the performance, the girl's heart was skittering around in her chest, playing hide and seek with butterflies and doubts. Then she noticed Grim had been true to her word - there were lights, softly filling the stage with a lovely glow. The Angel was in her seat, nodding encouragement, and one of the ballerinas was quietly nursing a flask and rocking gently in her seat.
An odd, somehow charming man was nodding off but seemed to wake and take in the dance, and behind those, dimly seen in the low light were others that had emerged from their various broken apartments, abandoned cars, or some of the more intact dwellings in which she had met them over the recent weeks. They had gathered and were meeting each other, often for the very first time.
She danced, and while she was not any sort of expert, she radiated so much joy and delight in the dance that the audience applauded and eventually left, chattering and making plans to 'do something again'.
The girl stayed resident in the city for another year before heading off to investigate a rumor brought to her by Grim, who had it from a wandering visitor, that another city had 'woken up. The idea of seeing that city, perhaps of finding or being part of another community, appealed to her.
⊰⊱♡ - - - - - A n --- E n d in g - - - - -♡⊰⊱
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Reflected was presented at Eulennest Gallery
Thank you so much to those who went to see it in-world, or looked at the images here, it is very much appreciated.
This Sora is a small member of the rail family of marsh birds.
It was directly in front of me, and it skittered over a dirt two track from the grassy edge of a woods to the safety of the marsh, where this picture was taken.
i realize that i have not written much here over the past few years. and i am a writer, first and foremost. how odd, to have abandoned the opportunity to paint with words, with sounds and rhythms, offer a complement to the images. so ...
i suppose if you are the kind of person who has a predilection for words, then you will read further. if not, well, there are many images in this stream (including this one, i hope) that speak their own language. :)
i have walked this path, this sentiero. i have walked it, felt the cold autumn air wash over me, the warmth of the sun on my face. i have seen deer bounding across the crests of the hills and pheasants skittering across the surface of the deeply plowed earth, the clay, the crete senesi. i have stood in the midst of this great space, small, very small amidst the waves of autumn blues and greys. i have felt this place, experienced it. and forgotten it. it takes so little time for memories to fade. it takes a conscious effort to preserve them. i work diligently to live in the moment, so diligently at times that i forget. and while the present is the only reality, the past does provide its context, the future does offer some hope, and my memory, though fallible, is not simply a nostalgic salve to ease my aging mind. it's a part of who i am, what i am likely to become.
i have walked this path, seen it anew. and remembered.
littletinperson
A three day-old Piping Plover chick (Charadrius melodus) skitters by on a beach in Massachusetts. I wanted to take advantage of some interesting lighting in this photo. I got low to provide the right angle. I love the way plover chicks walk. It is so cute!
Taken on Cape Cod.
A female marbled godwit stands on a gravel road in rural Alberta. Once in a while she would pluck something from the road, so there must be insects skittering or crawling about.
The wind howled through the woods on the night this was taken. It was the first full moon of the year which I am told is known as a wolf moon - which added to the atmosphere up there. There was a thin skittering of snow on the ground which helped to reflect the moonlight nicely. It was bitterly cold out there though - and so windy!!!
This was a 20 second exposure which shows off how much the tree branches were moving in the wind!!
I made my annual pilgrimage to the university campus ponds for a fresh stash of lily photos a couple of days ago, but a tiny white butterfly had other plans for me. Flitting and skittering around, he completely stole the show.
This was my first time pairing the 40-150mm lens with the focus bracketing and stacking feature on my Olympus, and I don't think it performed too badly.
I hope this little flutterbug’s elegance makes you smile as much as it did me. 🌿
Many thanks for every fave and comment, I appreciate them all!
The range of this very cool little California marsh and bog beetle is transcontinental so it's just at home in Iowa as California. By the way, you could easily fit four of these tiny characters on your little fingernail so they're not real easy to see in the boggy muddy habitats they like to live. They also like cold weather and I normally see them out in the early spring - if they don't quickly skitter under some dead vegetation or crawl down into a crack in the mud. They likely feed on midge larvae that would be living in that muddy morass.
but you can't hide.
Hop-A-Long was sitting on the edge of a flower pot near this lavender bush as some little birds were skittering around using it for cover. He jumped down on the bush and tried to get a little bird, but many of you will be glad to hear, he didn't get it this time
Fun watching this Semipalmated Plover skitter around in quick starts and pauses as it searched the flats for food. Fish Haul Beach. Hilton Head Island. South Carolina.
A breezy balmy fall day in the woods. A breeze would rustle through the trees and the air would be filled with golden leaves swirling through the air, skittering on top of the creek water before sighing and sinking and giving up to the gentle current. The sun shining unimpeded by any clouds and turning the tops of the trees into a fire of brilliant colors. The leaves will be gone soon in a bittersweet farewell to winter. And I will just exist until the first signs of spring.
A storm out at sea was whipping the ocean into a froth of foamy waves and chasing the touristas away from the beaches. I didn’t care, I love the beach when it’s abandoned and wild. A constant push from the wind and tumbleweeds of foam skittering across the sands at sunset was a gift after our drive to the coast.
This Roadrunner liked this spot and made several jumps from the same position to take what I considered a lookout position at the top of the tree. Roadrunners are difficult subjects without the aid of a blind and water to attract them. They are quite fun to watch as they skitter around like they own the place. Well, I guess they do1. (Greater Roadrunner - Geococcyx Californianus) (Sony a1ii, 70-200 lens @ 193mm, f/4.5, 1/4000 second, ISO 1600)
Don Edwards San Francisco Bay National Wildlife Refuge
California
I was trying to capture terns in the air and wasn't paying much attention to the birds skittering in the shadows along the shore. Then this sandpiper jumped on a log and into the light.
On top of a rock bluff in a small garden the shew emerged. In search of food he skittered above and below the leaf from which he first appeared. Standing between the shrew and danger, the leaf bared the brunt of hiding him from predators. The frontier was dangerous but possessed new life. All the better for his next meal
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This morning we were delightedly surprised to see our resident chipmunk nibbling away at something small, while perched atop our garden fountain, but not until he had sat there, very still, long enough for me to run for my camera and return to the scene!
So what he had found to eat was a mystery, after which he dropped back to the ground and skittered away!
Early morning, with bright sun bathing this feeding Killdeer.
These birds often let me get fairly close to them before they skitter away or fly off. Add the 500mm telephoto lens to the mix and it makes it seem like the bird is VERY close!
Have a great new week, everyone...
Plenty of these little fellas skittering across the sand whenever I got close. This one was a little bolder than most
So much here--an arch nearly overhead, lizards skittering about, the nation's newest wilderness named after Labyrinth Canyon. Yucca glauca, Labyrinth Canyon Wilderness, Utah
I am cold in our caravan and I have a window of WiFi….
Jonathan hasn’t so he is rightly p**sed off cos has no Drs Net…
So then Aldeburgh beach….The Scallop Shell Sculpture and the floor outside the lift of our apartment in Palma Nova earlier this year…I took photos of the chalets at Sandilands today so my Chalet fix has / was satiated but I’m not sure 🤔 might go back because my Fuji x100v was playing up and the focus square things kept skittering about all over the place so goodness knows if anything looks okay really…I keep trying to catch up on a few photos each day but the dogs need walking twice a day but I have been doing my best 😊
I apologise for any faves or comments given via the group HSS
Happy Sliders Sunday.
I have left the group because I honestly didn’t realise it involved so many people using AI as a large part of their processing.
I don’t personally do much manipulation using AI except for taking down excessive noise in my shots and also for upsizing my photos if I need enough pixels to print well - usually old photos taken by me and processed by me.
It is a preference but not my preference so apologies….
Grains of sand skittering across the seashore, borne by a strengthening sea wind, carving corrugations on the dunes.
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West Wittering, West Sussex.
Jack stood there for a moment just staring out into the crowd. The question and answer session had gone badly. He lost the will to do comedy. His dream was shattered. "This has been a really bad idea" Jack said. "I wont trouble you any more." Jack reached for the soggy note pad in his back pocket, the one BB his wife had left him to write on in the afterlife. On the top sheet of paper Jack scribbled something then tore it off and stuck it onto the wing nut that held the microphone onto the mic stand. "There's a little souvenir for you all, take care and I'll see some of you later." There was a smattering of applause and as he left the stage Jack's right foot loosened itself from his ankle bone and skittered off the stage. He stumbled back to get it like a peg legged pirate. "The foot bone is no longer connected to the ankle bone" Jack chortled. The crowd suddenly found that joke to be funny. Backstage Sully ran up to Jack. "How's everything Jack, are you all done, can I get you another drink?" "Yeah Sully I've had it, I sucked, there's no place amongst the living for the dreams of the dead." "That's life Jack." "I guess you're right Sully, hey did you get a hold of BB?" "I tried Jack but she just hung up the phone even before I could tell her the code word." " Oh well I guess it's better that way, I'm a bit of a fright at this point anyway." As he exited the stage door to walk back to the cemetery Jack shouted out to Sully, "see you in the afterlife and thanks for evertything." "No problem Jack, take care," Sully shouted back. Sully went out to clean up the stage. There on the mic was Jack's souvenir. He picked up the piece of paper and read it out loud to the few remaining customers. The Redsox will beat the Yankees four straight after losing the first three games,heard it from the Babe.
Some mornings we have these little dewy webs in the field, roughly parallel to the ground, and the tiny beads can make some interesting macros. This little spider skittered across the field of view while I was shooting - first time I'd seen anyone home in one of these webs...
This little cutie is one of five adventurous ducklings recently born to an injured duck in Bushy Park pond. Mum had a hard job keeping track of them as they skittered around exploring their dangerous new world.
Update: When I arrived at Bushy Park this morning I saw a heron swooping over the pond with what looked like a duckling in its beak, but when I put the photos onto my computer and blew them up I saw it was a fish. Mother duck's protection attacks on the bigger bird have been successful up to now.
Ghost crabs are so much fun to watch. They disappear into their burrow and emerge with "balls" of sand they just excavated, dump the sand and return to their burrow to repeat. More often than not, they disappear for an extended time when a crazed photographer (me) wants to get low and take some photos. Patience is usually rewarded after a time as they will re-emerge to go through their skittering routine. While this one did just exactly that, I happened to be on the rear end side of him as he did his work. That certainly did not deter him from watching my every move with those magnificent eyes swiveling about!
Taken at Bolivar Flats Shorebird Sanctuary, Texas.
Have a Blessed Sunday!
My sincere thanks to all who spend the time to view, like or comment on my photos. It is much appreciated!
© 2024 Craig Goettsch - All rights reserved. Any unauthorized use without permission is prohibited.
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Yesterday while mowing the lawn I finished listening to "When Breath Becomes Air" for the second time. Nothing like bawling your eyes out while walking behind a power mower. The book is such a beautiful testament to figuring out how to live a meaningful life. Paul Kalanathi, the author, was a brilliant man and I am grateful he found meaning and drive to share his story. Start today and examine your life, where do you find meaning and purpose? No one can define your values for you, this takes work, time, and self-reflection. It's like the quote “The trouble is, you think you have time” from Jack Kornfield's Buddha's Little Instruction Book we skitter away our time mindlessly. Today I slowed down, breathed, sipped tea and enjoyed the sunlight in the crisp morning air.
This creature is maybe an inch and a half from head to tail. Traveling like a bullet. Awesome! Coated in pollen, and a fast mover.
Well, one of our national papers said the entire country would be in for a week of crippling cold & "snow hell" this week, due to a double vortex (they are famed for rather erm... dramatic weather predictions!). Somehow, I don't quite feel this counts as "snow hell" but even though we only got a teeny tiny dusting of the white stuff here, Flynn still had a blast. It turns out you don't need very much snow to make a collie go crazy!
I've never seen Flynn play in snow before & wasn't sure how he'd take to it. You can never tell with this dog - he's the sort who'll happily swim in a river in December but then refuse to go out in the garden because the ground is frosty! Apparently Flynn approves of snow: he likes eating it, skittering about on it, catching snowballs & most of all, he likes biting at the flakes kicked up as I walk. He spent a lot of his time prancing & bouncing along backwards in front of me, (occasionally crashing into bushes!), whilst watching my feet with that manic look that collies have so perfected & from time to time, leaping in to grab at flying snow. I gave him the ball to hold, so that when the excitement got too much, he'd chomp on that & not on the end of my boot!
I was kayaking in some back waters near our cabin and was so lucky to discover about 8 Wood Duck babies ...the others skittered quickly to the reeds on the side but this little one was interested in my kayak and just stared at me, and I was able to get a shot off. It was such a wonderful moment!!!
There were three of these juvenile Killdeer and they skitter about very quickly! I was able to capture this one mid-stride.
Thanks for looking, etc.:)
One of the cheerier birds in the winter, a downy woodpecker keeps an eye out for both predators and prey as it skitters around the tree branches.
I'll be away from Flickr for a week, wandering in the desert looking for burning bushes, and thankfully out of touch with the seemingly endless madness spewing from DC. I do look forward to seeing your wonderful posts when I return.
It's difficult to sneak up on Belted Kingfishers like this one, but there was just enough cover to get a shot off before she skittered away.
My muse was hiding in the woodland. I heard her laughter skittering away in the air, rising formless and chill, leading me to this place.
"Everything sharp, everything soft, racing, darting, skittering, whirling, chasing, suddenly stopping.
Big round eyes, slitted sleepy loving eyes, naptime all curled in a little ball, now all stretched out with head tilted back. Leaping in the air, knocking things down, peeking over the edge of the table, grabbing my ankle with soft paws as I walk by.
Racing, racing when the food bag is opened, hiding with rear end and long tail still sticking out, drinking and pawing in Benni's water. Watching closely as I empty her litter.
Getting between me and my book, between me and the computer, sleeping on my computer mouse pad, head on the mouse. Climbing up the screen door to the patio with us rushing to get her down, clawing, clawing at her scratching posts but screens are more fun.
Sitting in my lap, all soft and sleepy, no claws, no teeth, purring, purring and peace....."
Ahhh! You may remember I met Magnus, Murdo and Mac a few days ago and Murdo was talking about going down to the Fintry Inn for a pint with the rest of the lads...all ten of them. Well, this morning I was surprised to see there were just seven of them on the hillside, and as I approached the others advanced as if eager to tell me more. It was Malcolm, Malkie apparently, who came to the front, actually a little sheepishly. I climbed the gate and went to them, arms out as if requesting an explanation. They responded with a low, "Ummmm!", puzzled expressions on their faces as if searching for words. And then quite suddenly it all spilled out, from Mingus of all bullocks.
Well, it seems they had all rushed the fence on the hillside, trampling the barbed wire into the damp earth, and rushed at a canter down to the pub. A great night ensued, raucous fun as they attempted the open-mic cowraoke session, fuelled with Magner's Irish hard cider. They had got through gallons. Five of them were just belting out "Beauty and the Beast", Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson (well, it had been Melville's choice) when farmer Fraser came in with three bouncy Young Farmers. It was hard to know who was more shocked: Fraser farmer or The Dirty Macs, as the bullocks had playfully named their singing group. The bullocks stopped singing and moving to the music and it became evident they had only been miming as the vocals continued without them. All of a sudden they decided to bolt, straight through the bar, all ten of them. There was mayhem, tables and chairs tossed aside like a full on Pamplona bull run. Initially two of them wedged in the door before Magnus hit the back of them at full pelt, catapulting Malkie into the road outside. The other's skittered after him out of the pub, hooves, flailing and skidding on the slate floor. Mingus, let himself go in the melee, and fresh slurry greased their rushed exit. But farmer Fraser pushed aside his young ladies at the bar and dived towards the door slamming it on Murdo's neck. He was trapped, and no matter how hard he tried, and bellowed, he couldn't get out.
Outside, there was only one thing to do for the seven brothers.....run! Run for the hills! And they took off at high speed up the road through the hamlet
Back in the Fintry, there was wild panic with three wild bullocks trapped in the bar. But Fraser and his young farmer helpers soon had all three wrestled to the floor. Jimmie from Northead Farm instinctively came up with the plan to reverse his Toyota Hilux and Ivor Williams stock trailer up to the pub door. The bullocks on the floor were released and all three suddenly dashed through the now re-opened pub door to find themselves shut in the trailer.
"So what became of Murdo, Magnus and Mac?" I asked.
"Dunno" said Mingus "We're all shitting ourselves wondering what's happened to them. They haven't showed up in the field yet, and farmer Fraser hasn't brought us any fresh hay or cattle nuts. We're all famished!"
A Quiet place where rivers flow and grasses flow
where creatures skitter softly in the undertow
of light sifted through trees and colors lifted with ease
where imagination rises up to fill the moments breeze.
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©Jane Siet All Rights Reserved (Photography)
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