Reverence

Reverence.  Deep, profound respect. 

Take the King of the Jungle--the brave and mighty lion.  We put the label on the animal and treat it as such.  But does the lion regard itself with a haughty nature?  Is it even aware of our perspective?  Do the other animals of the jungle who know nothing about labels 'bow down' to the lion or treat it differently than any other animal?  Do they not fight for survival against the lion regardless of it's size or stature or place on the food chain?  Is there really an animal that rules the jungle, or is it just our perspective.

What about the skies?  From an American point of view, we regard the Bald Eagle with honor and majesty in it's role as a symbol of what we hold important to this country.  But it's our perspective.  Granted, those who live in a place where dozens of the birds can be seen regularly in one sitting might not be as awestruck as those who rarely, if ever, get the chance to see one.  But does the American Bald Eagle know it's importance?  Does it sense that it carries a certain weight not only to us, but among the animal kingdom?  In competition for survival in the wild, does it win out because other animals give way to the eagle? 

I pondered that question while observing eagles last spring.  I watched how a "lowly, common" Canada Goose threatened an eagle, flying after it in attack mode, assuming it wasn't over food, but more likely in defense of a nest it was guarding.

    


Watching this, my first instinct was to mentally scold the goose, saying "How dare you treat our symbol that way!  How disrespectful!  Don't you know who that is??  What nerve!!"  I caught myself in my thinking, realizing that while observing these two animals' interactions, neither bird was aware of the labels I had attached to them.  They were equals, fighting for what they wanted or needed on a level, even playing field and the Canada Goose had every right to stand up for what was important to it, regardless of the animal it was opposing.




An even playing field.  Mutual respect.  I recall a time, coincidentally also, last spring, when I was doing an activity with the children in my class.  It involved their handprints and footprints.  (Parents tend to hold dear and cherish artwork that has true identifying characteristics of their young child.)  When it came to doing the footprints, the kids squiggled and squirmed when I painted their foot with the color of their choosing and they giggled when they stood up on the paper and the paint squished under their foot. I had a tub of warm, bubbly water readily available to immerse their foot in for a quick washing, and individual paper towels for them to dry their foot.  For the 5 seconds it took for me to get the paint out from between their toes, there was a momentary humble respect in the act of washing each foot. Yes, of course in the clean-up after an activity such as this, the teacher certainly must assist the children, and although a religious biblical story came to mind, it was moreso the level of respect and honor, regardless of our roles, that I felt for each child which left an imprint not only in their artwork, but in my heart.

To see more images of the eagles taken that day, go to the March 2011 link on my blog archive to the right of your screen and click on "A Different Pair of Bald Eagles".  More eagle photos of another pair are in the February '11 archive, and more recently, two seperate posts in September: Bald Eagle and Freedom.

Bear Scare! (Now you see it. Now you don't!)

I'm not the one being scared -- hopefully the bear is!  You see...  now that I've been home during the day, I'm able to see what goes on while we're usually away.  What I've noticed is that this bear has been coming to our yard several times every single day! 

It's been making itself very comfortable, it seems, like it's one of the family!  It sits down, scratches itself, lays down and nibbles on stuff or settles in for a nap!  It's gotten to the point that it's not detered by my presence--tripod and all--or even that of our cats.  As cool as is for me to study it and photograph it right out our back door, it's not in our best interest, or that of others, to have this bear not fearful of humans.  So now, when it's present, we've taken steps to deter it from 'hanging out'.  I know our property is rich in the protein it's really after, between the ants and nuts and all, but I'm sure the woods are loaded with them and it would have no trouble finding these food sorces elsewhere. 

My main objective on the day I took the following images, is to show how these animals--as big and as black as they are--can 'hide' in their natural surroundings.  They can become camouflaged so well and blend in so thoroughly, so completely, that they almost disappear right before your eyes!!  Many time they'll be right under my nose while I'm outside photographing something or other, and until they make a move or I hear crunching while they're eating, I won't even know they're there! 

For example, on this particular day I stepped out our back door to photograph the trees beyond our orchard which were changing into their fall colors.  It was a foggy day and while the ground remained clear, the mist lent the canopy of leaves an air of enchantment as the visibility faded to gray as my gaze traveled upward.

I sensed a presence.  I looked around but didn't see anything.  I heard the faint sound of crunching and tiny bits of shell falling onto the ground.  I knew there must have been a bear nearby, but where?  I followed the sound with keen eyes, and that's when I first noticed that one of those dark shadows on the ground was not a shadow at all!

Scroll through the next few images by clicking on the first one, which will take you through them without spaces in-between, and watch how this bear will come out of the shadows, and then with just a few steps, will walk behind the little bush and disappear right before your eyes!  It will then step away from that bush and walk to the next, only to disappear once again!  You know it's there, but....  is it??? 

I zoomed in for the sake of  reality, but upon regular viewing, it's hard to tell it's even there!  Amazing.

Eyes to the Skies

This morning's moon.

This morning's hawk.

This morning's pileated woodpecker.

Doctor's Orders - Part III - Wake Up Fall Call

The last few rainy days sort of 'forced' me to stay indoors more than usual, which I realize in the current phase of my recuperation that it's necessary, anyway, for me to rest my body completely horizontally during a good part of the day.  Without pain medication to dull the sensations, the reality of the physical state of my body is a 'wake-up-call' to the long road of healing that's ahead. 

Backtracking to last week when I dawdled on the swing or other sitting spots on our property with my camera alongside me, passing the time feeling the breezes and watching the hawks, you'd think boredom would set in.  Watching a movie indoors is one thing, as is reading a book.  Your mind is engaged in or transported to another world.  Sitting outdoors doing 'nothing' is really no different, depending on how active your mind is--how imaginative your are--or whether you choose to just 'be' in the moment and allowing your senses to be the director or author of the scene you're involved in.

For instance, I could be gazing in one direction, say, at our garden, and a slight movement of a squirrel's tail at the edge of the woods just above it will catch my eye.  SNAP!

From the distance, we made eye contact momentarily, but I stayed with that squirrel for a few minutes more and watched the antics of it skimming up and down the fallen branch it was on, heard it chattering (sometimes arguing) with the other squirrels and see how they'd engage in their foraging, and you can really learn a lot just by observing a small segment of their lives. 

After watching them for a while my gaze might return to where it was before it got sidetracked, only this time, my gaze will see things differently than before.  Something will call my attention to a particular flower, that might be standing taller, prouder than the rest or perhaps it's the way the sun falls on it, causing it's petals to appear brighter or more brilliant than the others, so I'll meander over to the chairs set up there and spend time there for a while appreciating the flowers enough to do an impromptu shoot while recalling the roots (no pun intended) of where or whom the original bulbs came from and the sentimental significance they have in our lives.  Several endearing moments or stories will unfold just from changing the place in our yard that I sit and rest.

An unopened bud is glorious to me and celebrated, for similar to an unborn child developing in the womb, it will emerge--burst forth--in it's own time, revealing delicate beauty and the newness of life.    What wonderful thoughts come to mind, while sidetracked by the flowers of the garden!

There is a special, real-life connection between this actual flower and the child growing inside this belly.  Every fall when these flowers bloom, the bonds of love spanning through generations grows as well.

                                                                                
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A flash of white turns my attention back to the woods.  Ah....  a little kitty....  the cats around here love exploring...  what a fabulous place for them to do it!  Of course, with my camera handy, they, too, become interesting subjects. 

Back to a wild side of things....

Again, even the tiniest of movements catch my eye.  Something was different over on Shade Rock.  Our children and their friends used to play on Shade Rock.  And while they were at school, Shade Rock became a quiet meditating place for me to sit, where I'd usually ring my Indian brass bell.  It's one you don't shake or strike with a mallet, but with a thick wooden stick held at an angle the bottom edge of the bell, when rubbed round and round, as smoothly and as slowly as you can, a solid sound begins to resonate, louder and louder until the woods and our backyard become filled with a steady tone; a steady hum.  It's a 'patience bell', for the ringing technique cannot be rushed and the motion must be continuous, or the sound will immediately break.  Fire ants have since taken over Shade Rock, so now, in only a matter of seconds, they find you and let you know it!  Quite a different experience than joyful play or meditative bells!  Today Shade Rock was occupied by something else:

Sitting...  looking...  I loved how this image captured the fall season, as this Jay became a silhouette before a background of yellow.

This Red-Bellied Woodpecker flew briefly into the scene, pecked a few holes, then flew away.

Although it wasn't by choice, I couldn't have picked a better time to be home in convalescence than during the fall season--as if it's not beautiful enough, the world is alive with color!  What a better way to stimulate healing!  It's invigoraging!

Laura gets all arsty.  This was actually shot from outside looking in through a screen at an image of fall colors behind me that bounced off a mirror. 

I'm sure as the season unfolds and I continue to snap away, I'll be sharing more of the beauty with you, but I end this three-part series with this cross that I noticed on the wooded floor. 

GlauraB!

Doctor's Orders - Part II - The Elusive Pileated Woodpecker

One morning while following Doctor's orders to do as little as possible, I was sitting out back, wrapped in a blanket, a cup of steaming tea beside me, and watched the rising sun saturating the trees on the mountain with deep golden color.  Suddenly, a quick flapping of large white--then black--wings drew my attention to my left.  Engaged in an early-morning phone call and with the unexpectancy of a sudden emergence of a bird flying into view, my camera had been idle on my lap.  My first instinct, always, is to grab my camera and snap a picture.  Under the circumstances of surprise and unreadiness, some of the images will of course be out-of-focus, but to me, capturing 'something' is better than nothing, and sometimes I want others to see what I see, regardless of imperfection.  And, of course, I'm always hoping for a second shot.  One of the most fascinating aspects of nature is that sometimes you're treated to just fleeting moments of awe.

These two images show the woodpecker as I first saw it--the flapping of wings revealing both black and white sides of it's feathers and the flash of it's red crest, confirming the species.

Noticing that rather than perching on a branch, it skimmed upright along the trunk, I knew immediately it had to be a woodpecker.  Sure enough, I quickly gathered the bird into my lens as it hopped around the tree until it found a spot to begin it's drilling.  It flew to several different trees, but was not satisfied in whatever it sought, thus flew away.

The next morning, besides having my camera at hand, I brought a notebook and pen outside with me to write my observations.  I was hoping the woodpecker would return.  Today I transcribe my notes from that morning:

I'm set up in the backyard: tripod erected on the hill--steady and even, camera lens pointing upward to my right, but I look straight ahead toward the sky over our rooftop.  Sunlight brightened the clouds and a hint of blue highlighted the otherwise dark sky.  I saw a female Pileated Woodpecker in our trees yesterday around this time; she, being distinguished by the non-existant red 'moustache' characteristic of her counterpart.  Perhaps it favors these trees at sunrise most mornings--I'm usually at work at this time of day--but it's what I'm hoping for today, anyway.  My ear is keen to the sounds around me--nuts and small twigs cascading through limbs and leaves on their descent downward as if I needed a reminder of which season it is, and a
few intermittent bird calls can be heard emerging onto the scene, although most birds seem to be sleeping in today.  The few I hear as the sky continues to brighten, both pique my curiosity and hone my birding skills.  Suddenly I do hear a few taps--hammered beats--the sound I'd been hoping to hear!  It's much deeper into the woods to my left.  I keep my lens pointing in the other direction, but my eyes scan distant dead trees for any movement or a flash of the red crest of it's head or a sudden flutter of bright white--the underside of the woodpecker's wings visible only when in flight.  Usually found upright against a trunk, it's dark body, well over a foot long, darts and spirals lengthwise along the tree.  But no movements can be seen.  The elusive woodpecker teases, continues to call my attention with it's tapping, which I follow with my eyes.... 

But alas....  no movement that I can see ever follows. 




Once back inside the house I searched my archives for a photo I knew I had taken last year of a male Pileated Woodpecker.  I wanted to compare...  examine the moustache....  fulfill my desire, temporarily, to see one again....  Here's that image below:

...just another way to pass my idle time...............

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Doctor's Orders - Part I - Look Up, Cheer Up!

People....  who have five holes in their belly....  their innards removed.....  and the holes stitched up..... 

...are given Doctor's orders to do as little as possible (basically 'nothing') to allow the body to heal from the inside, out.  Time--and plenty of it--is necessary.  Healing cannot be rushed, for it will only backfire and delay progress. 

"Do as little as possible...."  Okay....  besides sinking your teeth into some good reading material, to most people, that means guilt-free plopping on the couch in front of the TV, clicking through the stations, or going through a stack of movies you'd been wanting to watch.  Cool.  Now's the time to do it.

But Laura Brownlee is not like 'most people'.  Not being a "TV person", nor a "movie person", nor even a "couch person"  the feeling of being cooped up indoors participating in that type of limited activity would have adverse affects, being anything BUT healing. 

I've been taking my idle healing time outdoors.  Dressed accordingly to the weather, I'll choose different spots on our property throughout the day to relax and do 'nothing', althernating between reading (I've voraciously devoured a couple books already) or watching my very own Nature Channel on the Big Screen of Real Life, and my remote is attached to the shutter button on my camera.  I am perfectly content watching the natural world around happening *LIVE* from where I sit.  It holds my interest for hours at a time because it's ever-changing.  There's non-stop action, even though it might appear otherwise. 

Looking up at the sky alone--

The same gentle breezes, soft as feathers that lightly stimulate my flesh to promote the natural meshing process at each incision site, are the same breezes that bring awesome cloud formations into view--and out again--from one minute to the next.  With my finger on the remote, I captured a few of my favorite 'sky' moments that occured throughout the past 7 days--one just as the sun was rising, the others during midday.

                           





Usually, while sitting on our swing (where the two previous images were shot) I would delight when a vulture would fly into the scene.  Even better--hawks!  The Red-Tails typically alert me that they're overhead by their signature screech.  Others, like the Red-Shouldered or the other I haven't identified, will just silently sail by in large spirals--appearing one moment, gone the next.  I'm thrilled each time one flies by.  It adds a whole new dimension to the scene--it comes alive!