Tag: photography

Visions

Wednesday, March 06, 2024

I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than giant snowflakes falling and fluffing on the ground. However, there usually is a point of “too much,” and now, enough is Enough. Seeing through a window the many tree branches piled heavily with white is lovely. All’s peachy unless one needs to head outside to work in the snow and cold. That outside work could be as little as removing snow from a vehicle and driving someplace. However, my outside work includes feeding horses and chickens, all hungrily waiting and spotting for me, kicking downhill to the barn.

This rough spring has lasted too long, and happily, it’ll soon be Daylight Savings Time. The lengthening natural light will ease my early morning and late evening animal feedings. I can’t wait to dump my headlamp and walk without kicking through snow or wading in deep mud.

One of my “inside activities” has been looking through old, forgotten photos. I stumbled across today’s header of Kinny, a capture that surprised me. I quickly ordered a print for framing.

I inherited Kinny from my elder sister when she couldn’t continue caring adequately for him. He was seven years old and had always been kenneled inside a run. Kinny had never had a dog buddy; he became aggressive on seeing another dog. It took weeks to introduce and integrate him with my other dogs.

Kinny especially feared my horses, and at first, behaved very aggressively toward them. The horses, in turn, aimed to kick his daylights out. Eventually, Kinny “got it” and joined my other dogs. He learned to run with them on trails and alongside the horses. Kinny turned into a loveable pet, and I still miss him.

The header is a worthy capture of the dog and his shadow. He’s playing and having fun; it’s pure Kinny!

Dear Friends: Sun is shining to melt the snow, ahead of coming bitterly cold days. Diana

Special Robin

Sunday, January 27, 2024

A few years ago, I rescued an infant Robin after it fell from a nest and landed inside a fenced area where my dogs run freely. I heard its screaming parents, picked up the wide-mouthed baby, carried it where the dogs couldn’t go, and set it down.

I intended to let the parents take care of their infant but worried about its ongoing safety in an open area that hawks may fly over. After struggling about having left the baby, I decided to return for it. The bird became the resident of an unused small birdcage in my garage. I had to find live food, which is what Robins eat, and the ticket was night crawlers, from supplies for fisherfolks. Those juicy eats grew my bird strong.

For weeks, it spent nights in my garage and days perched on a tree limb and waiting for me. I didn’t intend to keep that Robin as a pet, although it was tempting. Finally, one day, I discovered that my bird had flown away–completely.

For days afterward, I walked around in this area and called for my bird. My calls had always brought it flying in and landing on my shoulder, but not now. I could only hope to find someday that it had returned, maybe even nesting here, but there’s no evidence that’s happened.

Since then, on spotting a mature Robin, I whisper, “Are you my bird?”

Dear Friends: It’s much of why I so appreciate and photograph them. Diana