Cormorants and a Grebe

Squirrel Jan 10

Over the past few weeks I’ve been seeing cormorants on nearby ponds. Usually small groups, four or five at a time, and never when my camera is ready. As today’s warm, bright sunshine seemed wasted on a half-tame squirrel in an overfull bird feeder, I grabbed my keys and a jacket and started walking.

My first stop brought instant success.

Cormorant Jan 10

And this was no small group of cormorants.

Cormorant Jan 10

It was a cormorant flock, dotted here and there with seagulls.

Cormorant Jan 10

Cormorant Jan 10

It was too easy, and after a few frames I turned my attention to an adjacent canal. I saw a flicker of movement, a small brown and white flash that left a few ripples to prove I had not been hallucinating. Moments later, this little grebe surfaced long enough to allow a single photo.

Grebe Jan 10

I wasn’t certain, at first, that it really was a grebe. When it reappeared, too far down the canal for my lens, I followed. For the next half-hour, I chased my shy target up and down a hundred yard stretch of water. It would bob to the surface, linger long enough to catch my eye, then dive again. When it tired of diving, it retreated to areas blocked by branches, forcing me to thread the camera’s focus through gaps so small that the slightest movement ruined my shots.

Grebe Jan 10

Grebe Jan 10

When I finally found a good vantage point and had the opportunity to line up a clear photo, I got so excited that I moved too fast, stepped on a branch, and frightened the grebe into another fifteen minutes of prolonged diving. Almost ready to give up, I turned my attention to a pair of ducks.

Mallards Jan 10

Then the grebe popped back into sight, drifted into a clear spot, and seemed to pose. Almost as if it had tired of our chase. (I believe this is a pied-billed grebe. Please comment, if you can correct or confirm my identification.)

Grebe Jan 10

Grebe Jan 10

After taking these photos, I became aware of a disturbance on the pond behind me. Small, repeated splashes…

Cormorant Jan 10

At first, I couldn’t tell what was happening. Then I realized that the cormorants had begun fishing.

Cormorant Jan 10

Cormorant Jan 10

Cormorant Jan 10

They dove over and over again. Sometimes the entire flock disappeared underwater.

Cormorant Jan 10

Cormorant Jan 10

I soon realized why the gulls were there. Each time a cormorant surfaced with a particularly tempting catch, the gulls attacked, shrieking with greed.

Cormorant Jan 10

Cormorant Jan 10

Cormorant Jan 10

The attacks only stopped when a family arrived with a bag of bread, luring the gulls away with the promise of easier food.

I took a few more pictures before leaving the pond, catching a group of sleepy ducks and a northern shoveler.

Mallards Jan 10

Shoveler Jan 10

Then I headed home, eager to download my photos and put together a new blog post. (Partly because I’m still in the learning phase, when it comes to bird identification, and I would love a little help naming these cormorants and gulls!)

The Horses

Horses Jan 8

Horses were the only pets forbidden on our acres. My oldest sister tested Daddy’s rule from every conceivable angle, but was no match for his resolve. Leaving the battle in her capable hands, I consoled my own longing with Breyer collectibles. My herd grew with each Christmas and birthday, multiplied between as my allowance allowed.

Horses Jan 8

I didn’t play with my horses as I played with other toys. Instead I lavished them with furniture polish and imagination, displaying them on shelves high beyond the reach of rowdy kittens and teething puppies.

Horses Jan 8

I left them behind when I moved into college, but Mother knew better. She waited until I graduated and married, until my husband and I bought a house of our own. Then she forwarded the herd to Virginia, where I welcomed them with tears and furniture polish, with new shelves beyond the reach of rowdy kittens and teething puppies.

Horses Jan 8

And last fall my oldest sister sent her horses to join the herd.

Horses Jan 8 8s

She never knew, until a chance conversation brought it up, that I had coveted her horses in our youth. As she has real horses now, and as she understands how much I treasure my plastic herd, she packed up Misty and a Clydesdale and gave them to me. So we have added two to the throng, though an unpracticed eye might never notice the newcomers.

Horses Jan 8

A Sunny Mid-Winter Day

Shadows Jan 7

Today’s bright sunshine lured me into the yard, where I spent the afternoon starting (but not finishing) a number of chores. My first job involved two small bird houses, which have become a winter refuge for spiders. Determined to avoid more encounters with black widow spiders, I wanted to clean out the webs and evict any venomous guests.

Spiderweb Jan 7

I’ve been dreading this task, and I was relieved when a clump of weeds with tiny white flowers gave me an excuse to put off confronting the spiders.

Weed Jan 7

After photographing the unfamiliar weed (I believe it might be hairy bittercress), I crawled through patches of henbit and speedwell, trying to capture their enchanting beauty.

Henbit Jan 7

Speedwell Jan 7

I crossed half of the yard on my hands and knees before I remembered the bird feeders. Dusty and empty, all of the feeders needed attention. Under the second feeder, I found a cicada molt.

Cicada Molt Jan 7

A short time later, I moved into the front yard. Before reaching the final bird feeder, I stopped to take a photo of paperwhites.

Paperwhite Jan 7

Beside the paperwhites, a single hyacinth was trying to bloom. Trying unsuccessfully, for the moment, because something has been grazing on it.

Hyacinth Jan 7

Hyacinth Jan 7

A quick search for suspects found a rabbit hiding in the irises and a squirrel trying to hide in a nearby tree. They both looked guilty to me.

Rabbit Jan 7

Squirrel Jan 7

Distracted by rabbits and squirrels, I never finished the last feeder. I also didn’t get to the windows, which are disgracefully dirty.

Cat Jan 7

But I don’t regret my disorganized day, which ended on a sunny, sleepy note.

Cat Jan 7

I can clean bird houses, feeders, and windows some other day, some cloudy day when the yard doesn’t sparkle with wonders.

Crochet

Crochet Jan 3

Mother taught me how to sew, but she never tackled crochet.

Crochet Jan 3 2s

Even if she had tried to teach me how to crochet, I’m not convinced that I could have learned. Not then.

Crochet Jan 3

I was a child of tenuous patience and headstrong temper. Our sessions at the sewing machine often deteriorated into battles of will. Mother would scowl over a poorly cut pattern or knotted seam. Start over and do it right this time. I would bristle, hurt by what felt like rejection. This is good enough for me, even if it isn’t perfect. I hurled the word “perfect” at her, a stone made of childish frustrations, and she tossed it back with the strength of a tested parent. I’m not looking for perfect, I just want you to do it again.

Lured by the unknown, and miserably bored with the exacting practice of the known, I would dig out a skein of yarn and one of her crochet needles. Teach me this. She would put them away again. I can’t remember how to do it.

Crochet Jan 3

By the time I got married, I had almost forgotten my fascination with crochet. Then I saw an afghan that my mother-in-law had made. A few years later, when my father-in-law needed heart surgery, we shared our waiting room seats with a bag of yarn and a shiny assortment of crochet needles. She taught me how to make chains and rows and squares. How to read and follow a pattern. Later, she took me shopping for yarn and helped me start my first big project. Then she laughed at my obsessive determination to make scarves for everyone I knew, plus a few afghans, all in time for Christmas.

Crochet Jan 3

I failed my Christmas quest that first year, but eventually did make scarves for nearly everyone. And afghans.

Crochet Jan 3

Like everything else, my crochet enthusiasm waxes and wanes. I’ll spend months finishing a project, then put my needles away for a year or more. Lately, in another surge of cleaning up and clearing out, I’ve been trying to use up my embarrassing mountain of yarn. (I can’t resist a yarn sale…)

Crochet Jan 3

This week I’m making an afghan, from a sackful of “Vanna’s Choice” yarn.

Crochet Jan 3

Vanna (the cat) can’t decide whether to be flattered or shocked…

Vanna

Photos, January 1

The year’s first frames were disappointing. I stretched my camera’s zoom too far, resulting in poorly focused photos with a flat, grainy look.

Heron Jan 1

Heron Jan 1

Then there was a tempting glimpse of a kingfisher. (I couldn’t get any closer because there was a canal in the way.)

Kingfisher Jan 1

View Jan 1

On my side of the canal, I watched this partially uprooted tree for a long time. Doesn’t it look like something should live under it?

View Jan 1

In the end, after miles of aimless driving and four forays through a wind that was colder than I had expected, the day’s best photo was found in a roadside ditch…

Heron Jan 1