SLOW STARTIN'

(MAY 31, 2010) We got to the park early this morning to beat the heat of the day. In fact it was so early that Sadie just kind of dragged out of the car, not jumping out with her usual vim and vigor. As we entered the woods, she just sat down, looking at me, as if she wanted a cookie (dog biscuit). I said, "It's too early for one now, girl," but she just sat there. I said, "Come, girl." She reluctantly pulled herself up and started walking. I said, "You are a little SLOW STARTIN' today, aren't you girl." She continued this slow pace for a while on the trail.

As we came to the dam below Dan Daniel Park, I saw a fisherman, and I spoke. He spoke back, and I asked, "Caught anything,yet?" He said, "No. It's a little SLOW STARTIN' this morning." I wished him luck, and we ventured forth.

Since it was a holiday, there seemed to be more people than usual on the Riverwalk. We were a little SLOW GOIN' as we came to individuals and started talking.

Along the trail we did notice that the birds were a little SLOW STARTIN'. The swallows were peeking out of their houses, the goldfinch, oriole, and cedar waxwing, birds I don't take pictures of often, were all being very photogenic this morning and moving slowly, and the bumblebees seemed to not hurry as they swarmed the flowers.

As Sadie, in her SLOW STARTIN' stance, was stalking a white moth on a bush, I noticed a number of granddaddy longlegs crawling their slow paced acrobats on leaves above her head. Some bugs were SLOW STARTIN' as they hung out on a leaf en masse for a long time shortly after the sun came out. These red and black bugs show up in great numbers during this time of year.

As we approached the dark woods, more fishermen had their poles in the river. They all seemed to have the expression of "SLOW STARTIN'" on their faces. As I stopped to take some pictures of a bird, one of the fishermen saw me and asked, "You want to take a picture of a fish?" I looked at him, and at his feet was a 3-4 foot catfish. He and a fellow fisherman held up the fish, and I took some pictures. It looked like the SLOW STARTIN' time was over, and things were taking off nicely on this Memorial Day morning.

It was another good morning on the Riverwalk.

MISSING AND FOUND

(MAY 30, 2010) As we entered Dan Daniel Park this morning we saw a large turtle crossing the road and a young deer grazing on a hillside to the left of us. We had arrived 15 minutes earlier than we usually get out to the park, and we were seeing some things we don't usually see. I thought that this would be a day of seeing the things in nature we usually saw, plus some new things. I felt it was going to be a wonderful day for picture taking!

I was wrong about seeing those things "in nature we usually saw"; I was right about seeing new things.

After parking the car I noticed that the full moon was shining brightly against the new blue sky of the morning. I have taken some interesting photos with the moon in the background - some Canada geese flying by and a mockingbird on a bush. This morning, early in the walk, I kept waiting for that mockingbird that always shows up when there is an interesting background - the bird was MISSING. I never got that shot with the moon.

I can usually get some good pictures of swallows and bluebirds around their houses. This morning - "crickets" - nothing. No activity and no pictures. The swallows and the bluebirds were MISSING.

At the spot where the cormorants hang out on a log, I knew that the faithful few would be there just standing and looking and, perhaps, accompanied by a few turtles. I got ready to take the picture of a half dozen or so of the creepy black birds on the log, but, again, MISSING. The high water had almost covered the log, and there was only one cormorant on the log. When I return a half hour later, even the one cormorant was MISSING.

Now when one has a routine and finds that routine disrupted by, say the fact that the person went out earlier than usual, it would be assumed that that individual would be greatly disappointed. Well, I did MISS seeing the mockingbird with the moon in the background, and I did MISS seeing the swallows and the bluebirds, and I did MISS seeing the cormorants - but, I knew that the morning would hold more for me if I just looked and FOUND what it offered.

Near where we see the cormorants, Sadie FOUND a large turtle in the grass heading towards the river. She wanted to get closer, but I held her back. The giant reptile inched its way forward and then made a mad dash to the undergrowth before disappearing.

Heading west on the Riverwalk, we approached the Martin Luther King Bridge, and I saw an interesting design on a fence post. As I looked closer, I realized that I had FOUND a brown dragonfly perched on the side of the post - the light shining through its wings produced a beautiful piece of nature that I would have missed had I been 15 minutes later.

On the return trip I stopped to take some pictures of bumblebees flying around a group of flowers. Looking closer, I FOUND that they were not alone. There was a gold and black butterfly enjoying the nectar of the flowers making a bright contrast to the mostly green and pink surrounding.

Near the butterfly was a wood fence, and I noticed something orange shown in the morning light. Looking closer, I FOUND that the object was an insect of some type. It possessed an amber color with an interesting design on its back. I have no idea what the insect is, but it was very pretty.

However, my greatest find of the day was the return of an old friend on the Riverwalk. For too long this guy had been absent, perhaps enjoying the Riverwalk at another location or venturing on to other wet lands to enjoy the elements there. Near the train trellis I FOUND a wood duck resting on a log. It has been several months since I had seen this guy who during the winter months stayed among the mallards in a seemingly congenial relationship. It was good to see the old guy again.

As I was walking and thinking about those that were MISSING this morning along the Riverwalk and those that were FOUND and the wood duck that was returning, I thought about this holiday we are celebrating. As families gather, they tend to talk about those that are MISSING from the family - parents, siblings, cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents. There is a hole in the family left by those who are no longer around. With these losses, there is sadness.

Of course, there are always the new FOUND members of the family - a new spouse, a new child, a new friend. With these additions to a family, there is joy.

And then there is the one who returns after a lengthy absence. That person is welcomed back into the gathering, and the family is made whole again.

Of course, tomorrow if I get to the Riverwalk at the time I usually get there, I will see my old friend the mockingbird (perhaps with the moon in the background), my old friends the swallows and the bluebirds, and, if the river has gone down, my old friends the cormorants en masse. They are MISSING for only a day - they will be back and so will I.

Tomorrow I will also see new things - new creatures that have always been there, but FOUND by me for the first time as I look closely and eagerly expect to find the unexpected.

Tomorrow, like today, will be another good day on the Riverwalk.

MEDLEY OF MUSIC

(MAY 29, 2010) This morning, before going to the Riverwalk, I had been exposed to music by the Rolling Stones, Chicago Transit Authority (later, Chicago) and a blue grass group called, Mandolin Orange. By the time I got to Angler's Park (where I started this morning), I was ready to be done with the sounds of music and to immerse myself into the sounds of nature. And so I did.

However, not 1/4 of a mile into our walk, a woman who bikes regularly there, stopped to mention to me that she had seen a very large snake, the night before, right in the spot I was standing - about a 6 foot snake. She then commented on the possibility of rain and said that she "didn't want to get her Elvis wet." She then produced a CD of Elvis singing hymns. She had popped one of the ear plugs out as we talked, but Elvis was singing in one of her ears. She said that she had four CDs of Elvis singing hymns. We talked a little about "the King," she mentioned that she had been to two of his concerts and she popped the earphone back in her ear and was off listening to "How Great Thou Art" or "In the Garden."

I started thinking of the medley of music I had encountered this Saturday morning. However, Mick Jagger and Elvis started to be way in the background as I immersed myself in the music of nature.

As Sadie and I walk each day, I want to leave the music of mankind behind and listen to the music of nature. As I write this, I am listening to Garrison Keillor sing some song as he performs at Wolf Trap, in Virginia, this Memorial Day weekend. However, I don't want to take Mr. Keillor with me as I listen to and watch nature.

Since we started at Angler's Park this morning, we headed west toward Dan Daniel Park (about two miles from where we started). Along this part of the Riverwalk, the trail does not run as close to the river as when we walk west from Dan Daniel Park. As we passed the Water Treatment Plant, I saw a couple of goldfinches sitting on the barbed wire fence that surrounds this facility. They were chirping and singing merrily on the cool Saturday morning, and then they flew away leaving the air empty of sound.

We entered the woods beyond the plant and heard the music of water as it rushed over the falls there. Coming out of the woods, there was the sound of some brown-headed cowbirds hanging out near the trail. A little ways beyond that I saw a very small sparrow chirping her little heart out. She must have been a recent born as she stood there with a mussed up hair style and wide-eyed glance at us.

Approaching Dan Daniel Park at about 10:30, I noticed something was missing. There were no loud sounds of children playing baseball on the fields; the fields were, in fact, empty. The rain last night must have caused the teams to cancel.

The park was almost empty, and I actually welcomed the "music" of being fussed at by a couple of mockingbirds who must have thought we had intruded too closely to their nest. We moved on without incident and headed back toward Angler's Park.

Right below the smaller ball fields, I saw the movement of three animals on the ground near the path. As I got closer, Sadie started slowing her pace and went into her "stealth" mode. She started moving slowly toward the three animals. As we got closer, two of them ran into the woods and the larger one sat motionless at her place on the trail. These three groundhogs, an adult and two youths, had been enjoying the quietness of the morning until that beast, the four-legged Sadie, came into their world. The adult eventually moved on, and so did we.

As we approached the woods near Angler's Park, we heard the sound of the birds and the roaring of the river, again. However, I also spotted a dragonfly, luckily before Sadie did, and took some photos. I also saw a green sludge climbing very slowly up the side of a tree. I observed a green larvae as it crawled slowly onward as I took pictures of it. It turned its head and showed a triangular face with what looked like multiple black eyes on the lime green face.

As we got back into the car, we entered the world of human noises again. I started the engine and tuned the radio to a couple guys from Boston talking about cars. Had I been listening to these guys talk about tuning engines and other such stuff, would I have missed the cherubic look of the small sparrow, the angry fussing of the mockingbirds, the playfulness of the young groundhogs, and, even a conversation with a lady on a bike about Elvis?

This evening I went back to Angler's Park with Sadie. The smell of charcoal was in the air on this Memorial Day Weekend. Other than that, the large circle around the playing fields was quiet. We, again, enjoyed listening to the medley of music coming from the birds. Near the marsh hundreds of voices were chirping as the frogs were enjoying this wet, damp weather.

Back at the car again, I noticed that there were few cars around. However, as if on cue, a car with some 20-somethings in it rolled into the parking lot, windows down, and music playing "Blue Hawaii."

It was another good day on the Riverwalk.

MINUTIA

(MAY 28, 2010) MINUTIA: That which is simple, common, small and insignificant.

This morning on the Riverwalk I noticed - QUIETNESS. The songbirds sounded muted, and the Canada geese had gone somewhere else. The dark woods was silent except for a rare bird sound. The meadows beyond the dark woods were quiet with the absence of the geese, and even the domestic geese I saw near the bridge were not noisy - they just moved quietly to the water. I don't know why the Riverwalk was quiet, but it was.

Early into the walk, Sadie stopped and pointed at something that I couldn't see. When I walked over and looked closer, I realized that she was pointing at a small fly that had caught her attention. In the bright sunlight,the fly had a fluorescent green shine to it. It was just a fly, but it was rather attractive. This was a very minute detail of the walk, but the results of that moment turned into an obsession with me as we continued.

We walked more slowly on the trail this morning as I started noticing movement on the leaves. There was a cool granddaddy long legs on a bright green leaf. It moved about like a ballerina as it tip toed on its green stage. An ugly black bug led contrast to the red and black bugs we often see on the walk. The black bug seemed to be independent; the red and black bugs tend to hang out in larger groups, often crawling over each other in their small private universe.

And, then, I noticed more flies. When flies are thought of, the first word association is "nuisance." This afternoon, I talked with a gentleman in an office who had gone out earlier and bought a fly swatter since one had been buzzing over his head all morning. He said, with a sense of disappointment, that after he put the fly swatter on his desk, the fly didn't show up again.

I'm not sure if there are as many different types of flies as there are different types of "Bubba Shrimp," but I saw some very interestingly colored specimens this morning. There were green-eyed flies, yellow flies, orange-eyed flies, black flies, red eyed flies, and brown-eyed flies. Each fly had its distinct coloring but, I kept telling myself, "they are JUST flies."

JUST FLIES. These creatures make a minute part of our system, and we often just swat them without looking at them. The colors and physical structure of these aerodynamic aviators are, sometimes, spectacular. I watched closely as the flies I saw this morning cleaned themselves, and then, like a Harrier jet, just took off vertically and flew away.

In addition to minute insects, my eyes were focused toward other minute objects. In the grass, at one point in our walk, I saw a single toad stool. It was a beige and browned colored little umbrella shaped part of the minute landscape. It was alone.

There are tiny things that surround us, but we often don't take the time to stop and see. The Riverwalk was quiet this morning, but there was a visual symphony going on right under my eyes. The colors and uniqueness of the minute objects along the trail made an otherwise quiet day, louder with the beauty of nature.

As I sat down in my car, after our walk, there was a small flying bug that had gotten in when I opened the door. After my experience with observing the minute objects on the trail, I looked very closely at the bug - it was a small insect with long gray wings and long antenna. I looked very closely at the little creature - I observed its movements - I observed its colors - and then I swatted it.

It was a good morning on the Riverwalk.

REFLECTIONS

SHALL WE GATHER . . .

(MAY 25, 2010) "Shall we gather . . ." is a phrase that many families use each year about this time as Memorial Day approaches. It becomes a time for cookouts and reunions for many families. I can recall such events when I was growing up - the family would get together at a state park, have tables of food and the great outdoors for the children to play in. I assume large families still do this - my family has been spread at a distance, and such gatherings are no longer possible.

However, every morning on the Riverwalk, GATHERINGS take place. There are walking partners who meet at a certain time to walk with each other, there are cyclists who meet at a certain time to ride on the Riverwalk, and there are runners who meet at a certain time to jog or run together in the coolness of the morning. Sadie and I GATHER each morning as she, most of the time, eagerly awaits the time when we can start our morning journey on the Riverwalk

There are other GATHERINGS along and on the river. The Canada geese, often in numbers approaching 100, gather on the river above the Dan Daniel Park dam, and coordinate flight plans as they move around, honking out commands. Upon a certain signal, a small group will take off to the sky, often just circling around and landing in one of the meadows next to the river where they stay and graze.

One of the first gatherings I noticed when I started walking on the Riverwalk, a number of years ago, was the gathering of the large black gothic looking birds sitting in the middle of the river on a large log (often, they are accompanied by turtles or other water fowl). These birds roost in the trees across the river at night, and then some take up the choice spots on this large log in the river. A month doesn't go by that someone asks me what these "vultures" are, and I say, "they are not vultures. They are cormorants. They are fish eaters . . ." and then I continue to tell the story of the birds.

Near the public works department there is the GATHERING of the white geese (often accompanied by a Canada goose or two) and their goslings. They gather on the hillside, and eventually make their way to the river. This move is, unfortunately, sometimes motivated by the sight of a 45 pound English setter on the end of the leash I am holding. I got an e-mail today from a friend who said that she and her husband fed the geese on Sunday and found the geese "very aggressive." That they are, and they are especially testy when they have young around. Even my bird dog, Sadie, cowers when they come at her.

I have also noticed the female mallard and her 7 ducklings GATHERING down by the river near Dan Daniel Park and then later, on the return trip, up near the train trellis where they gather and then walk down to the river. Sometimes they are collected into a large fluff ball as they sleep right next to the water.

There is another type of "GATHERING" going on by the river each morning. The swallows and the bluebirds can be seen flying in and out of their bird houses as they GATHER bedding and food for their babies. Looking closely this morning, I saw a small bug drinking the "gatherings" of water on a large leaf while a bumblebee was "gathering" nectar from a nearby flower.

And I, as I walked along the river, was GATHERING thoughts - thoughts that would go into this essay and thoughts that would bring a smile on my face as I thought about some of the things I saw. For example, the young ducklings were running swiftly toward the water, and a couple of clumsy ones stumbled over their little webbed feet. As the white geese where "herding" their youngster from the hillside toward the river, one was straggling and the adult had to nudge it on with her beak.

I experienced some human GATHERINGS as well. The gentleman who shared one of my blogs this past Sunday with some members of his church, the bike rider who stopped to talk about having had to go to the funeral of his ex-wife and mentioning that she was cremated and would have her ashes placed somewhere on the Blue Ridge Parkway, and the couple at Angler's Park who were enjoying the evening but came over and started to talk about my favorite subject - the Riverwalk, are some of the small impromptu GATHERINGS I encountered today on my walk with Sadie.

It was another good day on the Riverwalk.

HERON ADDICTION

(MAY 24, 2010) The morning started with another look at the young mallard family in the dark woods. The female mallard showed herself with a greenish tint and white eyes as she, and her 7 ducklings, wandered across the trail from a rain made temporary pond where they had been swimming this morning. Their silhouettes in front of the camouflage green highlights of the morning sun against the green woods, made an interesting picture.

At the dam near the power plant we saw our first heron, standing in the river nearby waiting patiently for an unsuspecting fish. This was the first of several we saw this morning on the river.

As we approached the first field outside of the dark woods, there was a group of deer chomping on the grasses under a tree in the far corner. A fawn was with two adults ignoring us until a large flock of Canada geese landed on the field. It was 6:45, and the geese flew in for their morning grazing. The deer scampered across the access road and into the hillside woods.
We passed our usual assortment of song birds including an oriole, swallows, mockingbirds, bluebirds, a cardinal and some sparrows. We saw the wild geese near the bridge, but became transfixed on the sight of another great blue heron wading in the creek that goes under the bridge. The bird moved gracefully, but at times, more resembled a teenage boy at his first dance - standing on shaky legs, unsure of himself. The great bird looked at us as Sadie put her head through the slats of the bridge to get a closer look; I took pictures.

As we moved off the bridge to photograph some other angles of the bird, one of Sadie's dog friends, Jodie, approached, so any future shots were discounted until after Sadie and Jodie had their ritual sniffing, jumping and faux playing. As I held the leash, I noticed the great bird fly over the bridge and out into the river. I had some good shots, so I was fine with this.

As we approached the next bridge, going to the train station, we stopped to watch the same mallard family we had seen earlier down the river. The group of 8 wandered across the sand and into the river. The mother led the well disciplined group of youngsters as several drake mallards watched from the shore.
Upon approaching the Martin Luther King Bridge, I looked down into the river and saw a yellow fin moving about over the water.
I watched this fin for several minutes realizing that it was on a living fish. A catfish, I assume, was scavenging the muddy bottom near the shore. The fish never surfaced, but the fin remained very animated as the fish dined on the bottom.

Not far from the dam, on our return trip, I noticed something dancing in the woods. It was a small shimmering thread that held a small inch worm. I took several pictures of this small, fascinating creature.

At about a quarter of a mile from the car, Sadie enjoyed venturing off the trail and into the high grass to see if she could stir up some insect life which she chases. On this morning we stumbled upon two interesting mushrooms having grown in the moist rich earth of the dark woods. I took some pictures, and then we headed home after Sadie had chased a couple of moths in the high grass.

My thoughts today kept coming back to the great blue herons that are on the river. A few years ago, someone on the river told me that in the 1970s and 80s the river was almost dead; but when the blue heron came back, there was hope seen by many in the community. Well, the heron are back in their glory. They make a brilliant show, most of the time.

There was one time last fall when I was walking on the Riverwalk. I looked out into the river, and there in the middle was a heron spreading its wings and sunning itself. That was one of those "wish I hadn't seen that" moments. The body of the heron is very thin, but the wings are very large; hence, this makes the heron, with its wings spread, look like a very thin man being an exhibitionist. I have other pictures of herons on my web page. In addition to the great blue heron, I have also seen the green heron, a much smaller, and less dynamic bird.

As with humans, the heron can be beautiful or not so beautiful, but like humans, they are always interesting to watch. I can't imagine the river without these graceful and gothic, blue and gray birds. The community would miss a great deal by not having these feathered wonders in our city.

It was another good day on the Riverwalk.

Here are some more pictures taken today on the Riverwalk. Click the image to enlarge the photo.

GRAY, GREEN AND GRUMPY

(MAY 23, 2010) The walk this morning moved from Gray to Green to Grumpy.

The morning started as a very dreary morning with gray clouds and a threat of rain. As I began my walk, one of the two bikers, who are very regular on the Riverwalk, said as she rode by, "Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet . . ." I agreed, and then we couldn't bring ourselves to say that it was a pretty day before going in opposite directions.

The grayness of the sky turned into a very plush green as we entered the dark woods. The evening rain had turned the foliage into an emerald glow. There seemed to be new life there, over night, that had not been there the day before. I noticed new leaves on the bushes, and insects were busily enjoying the water on the leaves and the nectar on the honeysuckle. A few bees were visiting the remaining blooms of the honeysuckle, and Sadie got distracted by a small fly's activities as it made its temporary home on a large leaf.

The birds, however, were only black silhouettes against the gray sky. Except for the noticeable shape of some of the birds, they were unidentifiable. Their color told me nothing except for a few that had attracted the brief rays of the sun. A cardinal sat upon an antennae on the top of a building, the unmistakable markings of a robin were evident when the light picked up a glimpse of the bird's breast as he sat on a tree limb in the emerald foliage, and a couple of goldfinches flew across the path at one point. Of course, the young goslings were mostly gray or white except for the small yellow chick that was constantly running to catch up with the larger siblings near the water.

In some places along the walk the gray and the green mixed with the gray/black chickadee being framed by the green surrounding of plants and a gray heron was outlined by a green frame of bushes as it strolled in the water. However, the plushest of green was noticed as we were on our return trip and saw our friend, the mallard, in his regular place. The sun was coming out by that time, and the intensity of the Kelly green covering his head glowed with radiance; I don't know where his usual mate was this morning.

At about the mile mark of our walk, the morning grew into a morning of grumpiness. The geese were their usual grumpy selves as we approached, and they honked a warning that a dog was in the area. The ones near the public works department made their usual march to the river, but the ones near the bridge to the train station protected their path, and we encountered our first act of bird attack of the day. One of the adult gray geese put his head down, parallel to the ground, hissed and started a feigned charge. Sadie cowered, perhaps having remembered her first Canada goose attack when she was less than a year old. On up the river we saw more Canada geese goslings than I had seen at one time on the river this year. There was, first, a group of 21 with 4 adults guiding them up the river. They were followed by another group of 10 goslings, and then a smaller group of 7 goslings was bringing up the rear with adult supervision. On the way back, we saw the large group in a field near the highway, enjoying the wet grasses while the adults stayed on the outlook for sojourners like Sadie and me. One of the geese made a threatening gesture at us as we passed by, but must have decided that we were not a true threat.

Not only were the birds on the ground grumpy this dreary morning, but we experience two dive bombings by two different types of birds. Near the public works department, a mockingbird buzzed over my head as we must have been very near a mockingbird nest. We have had that happen before on several occasions in nearly the same spot.

However, the most interesting attack of the morning occurred near the Martin Luther King bridge where we were buzzed by two swallows, circling us in a menacing way about 10 feet above my head. They stayed with us for 20-30 yards. When we came back that way, they didn't buzz us, but the two adults were sitting high on a wire waiting for any threatening action. Both Sadie and I stayed as far away from their house as we could. This was my first attack by a coordinated squadron of swallows. It was quite an impressive assault.

The only other moment of grumpiness was noticed on the river as the young Canada geese goslings were being herded into a nice green marsh before coming up the bank to frolic in the damp foliage. One adult goose was constantly having to urge on a straggling gosling that was swimming a few yards behind the rest. The adult would put her head down and gently, but deliberately, nudge the baby onward.

As we got back to the car, the air was warming up and the humidity was building. It was 8:45 on this gray, green and grumpy morning.

It had been a mostly pleasant walk, and it had been a good morning on the Riverwalk.

WINDOWS

(MAY 22, 2010) Windows that we look into everyday provide us with sustenance in living no matter how long we stand and stare or how short of time we spend looking - gazing - gawking. There are windows, or portions, of all lives lived on this planet. They may be the people whose window we pass on the streets or on the trail. They may be windows of natural life that we pass, sometimes not noticing anything, and are impacted in some way by the plant or animal's life we get a brief glimpse into as we pass.

This morning I was talking with a fellow walker who is regularly there on weekends. As we were looking into the "windows" of each other and he was petting Sadie, learning a little more about the other, we saw a group of Canada geese across the path behind a chain link fence. There were, perhaps, 6-7 of them. As we stood there, they seemed to get more and more agitated, perhaps at seeing Sadie, the bird dog. Finally, their honks got louder, and the wings started flapping. They took to the sky, except there was a "twangy" sound and a squawk. One of the geese had hit an overhanging line. He picked himself up, honked a little and, eventually, flew off to catch up with the others. I had a "window moment" with that one goose for a brief, traumatic, period in his day.

However, my first "window moment" of the day was in the dark woods below the ball field at Dan Daniel Park. As we entered the woods, it was getting lighter (around 6:45) and I noticed some movement over near the bank above the river. There was a group of mallards - a mother and six ducklings standing there. I started taking pictures, thinking to myself, these are large ducklings and I had not seen them before today. The mother had kept the young ducks hidden, but today I got to have my "window moment" with this family of mallards.

As I walked out of the dark woods, moving west on the trail, I noticed the osprey being active as it came back and forth to its large nest across the river. I took some photos and enjoyed that "window moment" with the giant bird.

At the bridge, near the public works department, I had a few windows into the lives of a family of geese. There were a number of adults and a number of goslings of different sizes in the water. As they swam about, it was interesting to watch the adults keeping the babies in line and scolding them whenever they got out of line. This window into the living room of the geese proved very interesting - loving but tough discipline that is needed for survival.

I walked past where I usually turn around (at the 1.5 mile marker beyond the bridge that goes to the train station). I was glad I did because I got some pictures of a beautiful heron as he crept through the green brush next to the river. I also saw into the window of river traffic as two Canada geese swam calmly past the heron who ignored them as they passed through his living room.

I saw some "industrial windows" mixed with the window of the birds. A cardinal was perched on a metal smokestack and a mocking bird also found a metal smokestack on which to sing. Their brief windows were open only for a short time before they had other places to go.

Going past the bridge to the train station, there was a lot of activity there as a distance walk was being set up for later and the windows of these workers, setting up a giant inflatable ending arch and beverages for the thirsty walkers/runners. I enjoyed talking with a few of those and viewing some windows in their lives.

As I approached the restroom near the public works department, I saw a fellow photographer, long time acquaintance, and we began to open our windows to each other. I learned about swallows that are down on the river and we shared some stories. We walked the next 3/4 mile together talking and taking pictures. This was a window where I saw through it and learned some things.

My windows didn't close after my walk this morning. This evening I went to Angler's Park with Sadie. I always see a groundhog as I enter the park and took a picture of it this evening. He is always there munching the grass allowing me to look through the window of his dining room. However, earlier, I didn't need to even leave home to peer through the window of a groundhog eating; I just had to peer out my window into the back yard where a groundhog was chomping the dandelions while a half dozen grackles did their thing nearby.

While at the park this evening I also concentrated on flowers and insects. I saw an attractive moth clinging to a flower; fortunately, Sadie was not looking through this window but looking elsewhere, allowing me to take a number of pictures. She could have easily interrupted that moment of voyeurism on my part. I also saw a fly on a flower, just sitting there - looking at me, looking at it through its small window of the day.

Earlier this week, a fellow walker told me that he had met another walker who introduced himself. The man said that "this is what enjoying life is all about." I agree -looking into the windows of others as they share their lives or looking into the windows of animals as we stumble upon a brief moment of their time, helps us to better understand people and nature much better.

Today I learned a number of things looking into windows of lives. I learned that parenting skills of adult geese much be natural since I'm sure they don't offer courses on this for the geese; I learned that river traffic among birds doesn't always result in territorial disputes; I learned that Canada geese aren't always graceful when they take off to fly; I learned that some insects are very pretty, up close, and even prettier when hanging on to flowers, and I learned that there are three types of swallows on the Riverwalk: the tree swallow, the barn swallow, and the rough-winged sparrow.

It was another good day on the Riverwalk.

OUT THERE EVERY DAY

(MAY 21, 2010) A number of weeks ago, one of my colleagues who teaches photography in the art department told me that he mentioned my name several times in his class because "you are OUT THERE EVERY DAY taking pictures, looking for THE SHOT."

Today I was thinking about that statement as I realized that when I'm OUT THERE, Sadie is OUT THERE, too. I have my agenda; she has her agenda. I am out there enjoying the fresh air and nature and trying to take a few good pictures; she is out there enjoying the fresh air and nature and trying to . . . be a hunting dog, doing what hunting dogs do - hunt. She is constantly tracking and pointing and jumping at anything that moves. She pulls on the leash at times when I am taking a photograph because I am not near enough to where she needs to be to do whatever she is needing to do.

We do, however, work together at times. This morning as we started our walk, Sadie pulled me toward something on the ground. I pulled at her leash and said, "Come on girl. Let's get going." However, she was persistent, and I went over to see what she was staring at. There, in the parking lot, was a large black object, a couple of inches long, moving slowly toward the grass. As I looked closer, I realized it was some kind of wooly worm (I looked it up, and I believe it is a leopard moth larvae). It was all black with a red ring around the back end, inching its way to the grass. This is a very interesting creature that is OUT THERE for a short period of time until it does what it has to do before becoming a moth. This is one of many creatures OUT THERE that add variety to our walks since we don't see this EVERY DAY.

For me to be OUT THERE EVERY DAY is something that I enjoy. It is not survival or something that I MUST do; it is something that is pleasing to me. However, most of those who are OUT THERE are OUT THERE, day in and day out, just trying to survive.

About a half of a mile from Dan Daniel Park, there are some trees where the song birds sing daily. Each morning I see some beautiful birds in the trees singing - just chirping away.

Now, why do they do that? My conjecture is that they do this for, perhaps, one of two reasons. I know they don't sit their like, this morning, the beautiful cardinal and the brown mourning dove did in their beautiful grandeur chirping just for my enjoyment. I know there are nests nearby, and the birds that I see are, almost always, males, noticeable by the brightness of their colors. My belief is that these males are either 1) singing to attract a mate or 2) singing to distract me from the nest that is in the trees behind me as I watch them in the trees before me. They are OUT THERE everyday either trying to attract a mate or trying to distract a potential predator (either Sadie or me) from spotting their nests.

The same applies to the bird houses along the trail. These bluebird and swallow houses often have the male bird sitting on the top. When I approach too closely, the bird flies off a little ways, sits there, looks at me as if to suggest I follow, and then flies a little further. This morning, I noticed this action when I saw a tree swallow sitting on the top of a house; yesterday I was teased by a goldfinch that flew a little ways and landed on another section of a chained link fence along the trail before flying away again as I got nearer.

At this time of year, the most noticeable actions by birds, keen on survival of the species, are what is done by the geese on the trail. The geese are very aggressive when it comes to someone getting too near their gosling off-spring. The adults huddle around the youth, honking; if someone gets too close, the adults will thrust their necks out, hiss, and come toward the threat in a hostile way.

This morning the adult geese seemed especially threatened by Sadie, and they formed a barrier between us and the babies. A few of the adults guided the young geese towards the river, while three adult geese hissed and honked at us. When the young were on the river, the rest followed and huddled around the young as they all swam safely in the water far away from the perceived threat. For the geese being OUT THERE EVERY DAY their practice of every moment is the key to either surviving another day or not. For them, it is not just enjoying the fresh air and nature; for them, it is basic instinct survival.

Another element of nature that is OUT THERE EVERY DAY is the foliage. This morning Sadie spotted something in the bushes beside the trail. As I walked over, she was pointing at a bug of some type, but right in front of me were some berries growing in a tree. They looked like raspberries or blackberries; I'm not sure what they are. Anyway, they were aesthetically pleasing, and I enjoyed looking at them and taking photos of these berries that are OUT THERE EVERY DAY providing food for the animals as well as providing seeds to quietly replenish themselves in the rich earth of the dark woods.

And, finally, there are other people OUT THERE, like me, who are OUT THERE EVERY DAY. For them, they are likely OUT THERE for the same two major reasons I am out there: to enjoy the fresh air and nature. This morning I was heading back to the car when I stopped to talk with one of my walking friends. I happened to be taking a picture of an oriole that had landed high in a tree and noticed that the walker was wearing a Baltimore Oriole baseball cap. He told me the story of his cap as I continued to take pictures of the beautiful bird in the tree on this sunny morning. Both provided a moment of enjoyment - one with its song; one with his story.

Getting OUT THERE EVERY DAY to GET THE SHOT is a secondary reason for my daily walks on the Riverwalk. I would be there even without the camera to just enjoy the air and nature and all of the other elements, both human and natural, that are OUT THERE EVERY DAY.

It was another good day on the Riverwalk.

LITTLE THINGS

(MAY 20. 2010) Little Things.

The world is full of "little things" that make life interesting. Comments based on little things tend to add variety to everyday activities. Sometimes the comments add positive variety that can result in smiles and joy; sometimes the comments add negative variety that can result in conflict. Generally comments shared on the Riverwalk with those who frequent the trail are positive and often fun.

Today I passed two men who walk regularly, and they commented on the number of pictures they see me taking each day. One man said that I must have a room full of pictures. I said that I take 200-400 pictures a day and, "someone told me, once, that with that many pictures taken every day, even a blind man could turn up 3 or 4 that are good." Most days I do; some days I don't. The gentlemen chuckled and moved on saying, "I hope you get some good shots today."

Another daily walker stopped and made a comment about something that had happened a few months ago. When I was taking a picture of an inch worm hanging from a thin thread, the gentleman had come up behind me and asked what I was looking at. I told him an inch worm. He looked closely, but couldn't see it since it was at a distance. We then exchanged some comments and made a joke, and the "little comment" has provided periods of amusement between the two of us. Today, we recounted that conversation and commented on "little things" that are said and done that make life interesting. This gentlemen is a happy man who works to spread his happiness to others everyday. He does that with "little things" that he says.

On the Riverwalk today "little things" seemed to be everywhere. One was the little bird defending itself from the larger bird; another was the little goslings representing the new generation that will continue to give the Riverwalk life; another was the little yellow bird spreading visual joy with its colorful feathers; another was a group of little bugs that, when grouped together, made for a colorful design against a green leaf, and finally, the other little thing was a jet liner flying overhead, releasing a white plume against the blue sky.

Early on our morning walk, we heard the squawking of a large bird on the other side of the trees next to the river. I walked back on the trail, while Elizabeth held Sadie, and I saw an osprey in the sky - retreating from a much smaller bird dive bombing the giant hawk at least ten times the size of the smaller bird. The osprey flew into a grove of trees and the smaller bird flew off. It was a "little thing," but quite aggressive.

As we approached the bridge near the public works department, we saw the larger white geese herding their off-spring away from the path where they saw a large dog approaching - Sadie. The "little things," the goslings, huddled up to the older geese and moved toward the river. "Little things" help to preserve and protect the future of the species.

A goldfinch, with its bright yellow plumage, sat singing in a tree. The "little thing" added melody to the quiet morning while providing an attractive visual to the greenery of the trees. Such a "little thing" makes the walk more pleasant and provides simple aesthetic satisfaction.

On the return trip, we walked close to the foliage toward the river. I saw something that looked like a small colorful moth on a green leaf. As I got closer, I saw that it was a group of small red and black bugs huddled together. These "little things" brightened the green leaf and provided an interesting mosaic form. The beauty of nature can be seen in even the "little things" that most people don't stop to see. As I was standing there taking the picture, another walker came over and asked what I was photographing. I told him, "Bugs." He said, "Oh, I thought you were taking a picture of a snake." I said, "No. Just some colorful bugs." He lost interest and moved on.

And finally, a little thing in the sky that was man made made me realize that what is often in "little things" is precious to those who care about life. A jet liner streamed across the blue sky; I know that in that "little thing" was life - humans who were traveling a distance to a destination unknown to me. But there was human life in that "little thing." Precious human life, like the precious life of birds bent on survival and making the world more colorful, and the precious life of bugs that must add something to nature other than the colorful mosaic they provide.

"Little things." The world is made a better place with "little things," and with the loss of these "little things," whether through human greed or nature's own depletion, comes a world that is just a little less joyous.

It was another good day on the Riverwalk.

PATTERNS OF NATURE

(MAY 19, 2010) This day started with a sad moment. After a discussion of the issue, we decided to take the small kitten found yesterday at Angler's Park to the Humane Society. Many factors played in this heart-wrenching decision, but we believe it was the best decision.

After taking the kitten to the humane society, I started my walk from near the public works department and walked toward the west turning around near the Holiday Inn Express. By starting about a mile up the river from where I usually start, I saw different people and different patterns of nature.

The Riverwalk animals, like humans, have certain patterns of action they follow each day. The Canada geese group in the water and then fly to a grazing area in the park. The mallards swim down stream and find a place to sun and eat for the rest of the day. The adult geese and ducks take their babies on the river, near the shore, to a safe place to relax for the day and eat. Songbirds come out when the sun comes out and sing in the rays of the sun; on cloudy days, they come out and sing, but are usually hidden in the branches of the trees.

There are patterns in actions along the Riverwalk with the animals there and the human walkers, runners, cyclists . . . Those who are there regularly pass with similar comments to each other: "Good Morning," "How are you doings?" "Fine, thank you, and you?" "Nice weather today, isn't it?" "A little cool this morning, but a beautiful day," etc. When everyone starts from the same place each morning, a walker can just about guess where he will meet up with a certain individual. This morning, my pattern was wacked up by starting at a different place.

I saw some different things this morning.
I saw three goslings sleeping together curled up near the public works department; I saw three ducklings gathered together near the river towards the train station. I saw some cedar waxwings silhouetted against the sky. I saw a turtle swimming up the creek that empties into the Dan River; I saw a heron, not shy at all, wading in the same creek as the turtle passed by.
I saw some Canada geese goslings and two goldfinches played a few steps ahead as they landed on a chain link fence; they waited for us to take a few steps, and then flew a few feet landing on the fence further up the river. It was at this time that I realized that not only were we part of habitual patterns in our lives, but also part of aesthetic patterns. The goldfinches against the pattern of the chain link fence made for a pleasing visual.

After several shots of these golden birds (my wife said that the bird looked like a pet bird from a pet shop), I started noticing other visual patterns combining human objects and nature.

The electrical tower provided an interesting combination of the poles and wires with the swallows and mockingbirds that landed there this morning. This evening, at Angler's Park, the soccer goal and the football goal posts made interesting patterns for some young bluebirds there.

But, sometimes nature doesn't even need human made objects to provide for an interesting piece of art. Two cedar waxwings silhouetted against a white sky while in the triangle of tree branches provided a natural pattern that was aesthetically pleasing.

And while thinking about patterns today, I also thought that, perhaps, the mother cat and the two remaining kittens I saw at Angler's Park last evening might still be there; I was wrong.

However, as Sadie and I crossed the bridge over the marsh, we saw a man and a woman coming over the bridge in our direction. We were halfway across the bridge when they came over to see Sadie, and we exchanged small talk. They went on over toward the ball fields while I took some more pictures from the middle of the bridge.

I then noticed the man had stopped at the top of the steps and the woman had gone down the steps. As I approached them, I saw that the woman had picked up a trap near the portable toilet there.

I commented: "Oh, you have retrieved a trap, I see." The lady said yes that they were taking it in for the evening.

The man said that "someone had reported seeing a mother cat and some kittens here yesterday evening."

I said, "I was the one."

I related my story, and they said that they were volunteers from the humane society and had put the trap there to try to capture the mother and the two kittens, but would take the trap in for the evening, not wanting some other animal to get trapped there over night. The man said that he had walked around the marsh this morning looking for the cat and kittens, but hadn't seen anything.

I guess that some animals avoid patterns in their daily lives because that can result in being spotted and captured.

However, there is a groundhog that is in the field every evening when I go to Angler's Park. It hangs out, grazing right near the water treatment plant beside the road leading into the park. I have spotted him there nearly every evening and even on the morning earlier this week when Sadie and I walked there during the rain.

Patterns are interesting - both patterns of habit and patterns that are aesthetic.

It was another good day on the Riverwalk.

GIVE ME YOUR TIRED . . .

(MAY 18, 2010) Today offered two opportunities to walk on the Riverwalk. This morning we walked from Dan Daniel Park and this evening we walked at Angler's Park.

As I walk the trail and observe the wildlife, I often tend to anthromorphize the wildlife there. I see a microcosm of human life in the lives of the animals residing along side the river. For example, in the area of diversity among the creatures on the Riverwalk, there seems to be an acceptance of different species of birds than in other wildlife. The geese, both the Canada and the others, tend to hang out with each other peacefully. This morning I noticed a single Canada goose with a huddled family of white geese. The adults were hustling their little ducklings along while the Canada goose honked warnings that a dog was near (that was, of course, Sadie). It is not uncommon to see mallards and wood ducks hanging out together in peace and harmony as well.

However, there are occasional territorial disputes even among the like birds. I have seen wood ducks wander into mallard territory and the drake mallard fending the wood duck off. I have noticed some interspecies disputes among the Canada geese when some rogue Canada geese try to wander into another flock. I have seen disputes among the white geese as one goose puts his neck parallel with the ground and charges another white goose for what seems to be no apparent reason. And the mockingbirds along the trail seem to be the bullies as they defend their territories against invasion by not only other birds, but also from human as my wife witnessed last year when she a Sadie were attacked by a mockingbird, not once by two times. It was, also, mating season which tends to make the birds a little more testy.

This morning I witnessed the "huddled masses" of baby geese and ducklings. But I also noticed a difference between the ducks and the geese. The ducks seem to be less communal in their raising of the ducklings while the geese seem to surround their goslings with protection. This was evident at the beach area near the train trellis. The female mallard was looking after her 3 ducklings alone while the 8-10 goslings I saw were protected by 4-5 adults on the water and on the land.

We also saw a huddled mass of deer under a grove of trees in one of the fields near Dan Daniel Park. They seemed to be grazing in peace until a flock of Canada geese landed on the field causing the deer to scatter.

The Tired and Poor was evident this evening at Angler's Park. I was taking some pictures from the bridge that goes over the marsh when I spotted some larger movement on the other shore. I took some pictures and realized that there was a mother cat there with three kittens. My first thought was to get as many of them as I could and take them to the humane society. I climbed down a hill, after safely putting Sadie in the car, and when I got to the cats, the mother had fled and two of the three others were running away also. I did get one little tabby kitten and decided that, rather than taking it to the Human Society, to take it home and let Elizabeth see it.


This is a story that hasn't ended yet. We are both trying to decide if Sadie needs a pet cat or to take the kitten to the human society. Tonight the kitten is upstairs in the pool room with Elizabeth where Elizabeth has prepared a nice bed, litter box and food for the little guy. We will decide tomorrow what we will do.

The massive number of new born geese and duckings provide a bright scene to the park. The abandoned animals in the park (I have taken 3-4 dogs to the humane society over the past couple of years) are the poor and tired of the park. The Riverwalk has become a melting pot of birds and other animals. It is a place where, daily, one can see the "poor and tired and huddled masses" of animals. For many of them the only challenge is survival, to stay alive for another day and to, eventually, replenish the species.

It was another good day on the Riverwalk.

Mother Nature Gave to Me . . .

(MAY 17, 2010) On this rainy morning, Sadie and I went to Angler's Park and walked a couple of times around the large field. There were some birds and other creatures out this rainy morning. What I saw this morning inspired the following:

On the first part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: A DRY DOG IN THE BACK OF MY JEEP.

On the second part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: two turtles crossing and a WET DOG ON THE RIVERWALK TRAIL.

On the third part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: three groundhogs grazing, two turtles crossing and a wet dog on the Riverwalk trail.

On the fourth part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: four lizards running, three groundhogs grazing, two turtles crossing and a wet dog on the Riverwalk trail.

On the fifth part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: five Canada geese; four running lizards, three groundhogs running, two turtles crossing and a wet dog on the Riverwalk trail.

On the sixth part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: six scampering squirrels; five Canada geese; four running lizards; three groundhogs grazing; two turtles crossing, and a wet dog on the Riverwalk trail.

On the seventh part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: seven mallards feeding; six squirrels a-scampering; five Canada geese; four running lizards; three groundhogs grazing; two turtles crossing, and a wet dog on the Riverwalk trail.

On the eighth part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: eight blackbirds playing; seven mallards feeding; six squirrels a-scampering; five Canada geese; four running lizards; three groundhogs grazing; two turtles crossing, and a wet dog on the Riverwalk trail.

On the ninth part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: nine killdeer wading, eight blackbirds playing; seven mallards feeding; six squirrels a-scampering; five Canada geese; four running lizards; three groundhogs grazing; two turtles crossing, and a wet dog on the Riverwalk trail.

On the tenth part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: ten swallows perching; nine killdeer wading, eight blackbirds playing; seven mallards feeding; six squirrels a-scampering; five Canada geese; four running lizards; three groundhogs grazing; two turtles crossing, and a wet dog on the Riverwalk trail.

On the eleventh part of the Riverewalk Mother Nature gave to me: eleven daisies budding; ten swallows perching; nine killdeer wading, eight blackbirds playing; seven mallards feeding; six squirrels a-scampering; five Canada geese; four running lizards; three groundhogs grazing; two turtles crossing, and a wet dog on the Riverwalk trail.

On the twelfth part of the Riverwalk Mother Nature gave to me: twelve bluebirds roosting; eleven daisies budding; ten swallows perching; nine killdeer wading, eight blackbirds playing; seven mallards feeding; six squirrels a-scampering; five Canada geese; four running lizards; three groundhogs grazng; two turtles crossing, and a WET DOG IN THE BACK OF MY JEEP.

It was another good morning on the Riverwalk.

To Everything There is a Season

(May 16, 2010) This was another cool morning after the thunderstorms over night. This new day threatened rain, but we had only an occasional drizzle.

The woods were beaming with the chirping of song birds, the sound of the river, and the squirrels running about. A heron had taken up morning feeding at the dam. There were cormorants in the water and flying overhead. The two Canada geese squawked their warnings as we left the dark woods moving toward the first field. There were a dozen or so Canada geese grazing across the field not at all bothered by Sadie who was an eighth of a mile away.

At about a half mile from our car we noticed something large and black near the large rocks next to the path. Sadie went over to sniff, and I quickly pulled her away. It was the remains of a cormorant that lay there with its giant wings spread and the bone structure all that was remaining. That which was left looked like the bones of a Thanksgiving day turkey after the meal has been consumed. The only life within the carcass were the two blue flies crawling over the bones. It was a ghastly sight on this dreary morning.

Walking a little further down the path we came to a view of the cormorants on the log in the middle of the river. There were 6-7 of them, and they didn't seem to be mourning the passing of one of their own.

I started thinking about the Blood, Sweat and Tears song, "And When I Die," as I continued on our walk. The song repeats the refrain which is: "And when I die, and when I'm gone, there'll be one child born." I knew that as I got to the bridge a half mile away, there would be some geese with their goslings.

I was wrong. There were no geese there, only a sandpiper on a distant rock and a blue jay in the tree. I walked through the next group of trees toward the train trellis and saw the white goose that had been nesting there on the debris for several weeks (she was still there, and there was no sign of goslings). As we got nearer to the bridge going to the train station, I saw the "one child born" playing itself out as I counted seven ducklings in the water, huddled together in one group, and a female mallard with three other ducklings walking up the beach toward the trees. Under the grove of trees was a group of geese with a half dozen goslings. On the debris under the bridge going to the train station were three white geese nesting, and on the piling was the Canada goose who nests there annually.

One of the regular walkers stopped and talked with me a few minutes as we watched the ducklings on the sand. He said that on up the river toward the Union Street bridge there were 20-30 baby geese a few days ago; there were fewer today (perhaps 15-18). Death happens daily on the river, but often it is not as obvious and obtrusive as the carcass of the cormorant.

On the way back to the car, I saw a catbird in the tree singing its mating call and a small yellow goldfinch chirping beautifully in the dense foliage of the trees. We passed the dead cormorant, again, and I thought about the Ecclesiastics verse that goes: "To everything there is a season. A time to be born and a time to die."

On this cool rain threatening morning we had experienced life and death. The life on the river greatly outweighed the death, for the new life on the river gives the river a new energy. The ducklings and goslings scampering about added the smile to this otherwise cool May morning when there was death on the banks of the river.

It was another good day on the Riverwalk.

BEST SEAT ON THE RIVER

(MAY 15, 2010) What a perfect morning it was on the Riverwalk. There were more people enjoying this day earlier than usual as Sadie and I got out there at 6:45. The evening storm had passed, and the air was fresh with the smell of honeysuckle.

I saw a bluebird pair sitting on the yellow "foul ball marker" at the ball field. They seemed to be scanning the area and taking a respite from the grueling task of eggs and babies, being that it is that time of year. At the dam I saw a tree swallow sitting on top of his house with the water rushing over the dam in the background, enjoying the coolness of the morning. A robin was in the tree, surrounded by new green foliage, chirping its song, and on down the trail I saw the cormorants sitting on a tree in the river while a group of turtles joined them. All seemed to be refreshed by the smells, the coolness and the sights of this spring morning.

Last week I saw a group of four women who regularly walk the trail. They had parked themselves on a bench that fit them perfectly. The bench was shaded from the morning sun by a tree, and they had a perfect view of the river where the cormorants hang out. As I passed with Sadie, I commented, "You have the best seat on the river." They didn't deny that and responded about the pleasantness of the morning. This morning, as I walked the trail with Sadie, I started thinking about that conversation. Who (or what) really has the best seat on the Riverwalk.

Looking back at the birds I had seen on the early part of my walk this morning, it is hard to say. The bluebirds were 30 feet up on the yellow perch where they could see a good part of Dan Daniel Park, PLUS, they were enjoying the solitude away from their eggs and babies. The swallow had a wonderful view of the river and could watch other birds flying over, swimming in the river, or just walking on the shoreline. They also had top seats to watch the fishermen as they cast their lines into the river and haul out an occasional fish. The robin was enclosed in the lush greenness of the foliage, but seemed to enjoy his own song and could see, from behind his green curtain, the happenings along the path as individuals walked by without seeing him but enjoying his melodious song. Finally, the cormorants sitting on the tree in the river seem to always be content. They watch the river pass underneath them; they dive in for a meal in the shallow river, and they watch the other water fowl swimming around them or flying over head.

Who has the best seat on the river? Well, maybe none of the birds. Sadie has a tendency to chase bugs on the Riverwalk. I often follow the insects as they land in safer locations than on the ground where a "bug dog" can easily stalk and capture the delicate creatures. This morning Sadie was intrigued by several moths that made their escape to some green foliage just above Sadie's head. There they sat and watched - whatever they watched, I don't know, but they knew that for at least that short period of time they had looked death in the eyes and were now enjoying life. There was another bug, perhaps a mosquito, that landed on a green leaf. Sadie had not seen this insect, so the creature had not escaped death like the moths. Yet the bug sat there and enjoyed the morning.

Who has the best seat on the river? On the way back to the car as we approached the dark woods, Sadie spotted a squirrel which always sets her off into her hunting dog stance. The paw was lifted, the tail went up, and Sadie was ready to pounce upon the squirrel. As she approached the squirrel, it ran up a tree, which is what all the squirrels Sadie chases do. From its safety perch, the squirrel looked down on us. It was safe, it was at a point where it could see a large portion of the river and the park, and it was content. It sat there for a while looking at us, and I thought, that must be the best seat on the river. But maybe, not.

As we ventured on, there were several fishermen fishing near the dam. Some were busily baiting their hooks and throwing their lines into the river. But one gentleman had his line in the river and was sitting there just waiting. There was a sense of peace there as I watched the fisherman just sit and wait. Was this the best seat on the river?

I came to realize that the best seat on the river may belong to each one who has the opportunity to get out into nature. The ladies on the park bench, the birds in the trees, the turtles on the river, the bugs on the leaves, the squirrels in the trees, and the fisherman with his line in the river all have the best seat on the river. As a sojourner on the river, I am fortunate to have this daily portrait as part of my life. I too, have the best seat on the river, and it is a beautiful view.

It was another good day on the Riverwalk.

Gray Skies . . . Nothing But Gray Skies - Except for Nearly Everything Else on the Riverwalk This Morning

(MAY 14, 2010) There were few people on the Riverwalk this morning. That could have been because there was a constant threat of rain. Fortunately, Sadie and I didn't get wet; we just walked in a dreary world of GRAY.

The sky was a light gray causing the trail to be dark. As I looked up over the two layers of trees in the distance, I saw that there was also fog, giving the background trees an eerie autumn look. It didn't seem like springtime as the air was cool and humid.

On the gray river I noticed the cormorants, those black and gray birds that look like vultures as they perch upon the fallen tree in the river. There were six on one end of the tree and two on the smaller end. This added to the mood of the day - GRAY.

A robin was sighted on the trail, and even he was sitting on a gray rock. The contrast of his orange breast with the rest of the setting made for a spectacular moment. It was a brief moment since he flew away, shortly, leaving the GRAY rock.

After about a mile on the trail, we came upon some geese - a half dozen adults and about a dozen goslings. Even the river where they swam and sand on which they walked was GRAY. The robin added the brightness to the dreary day; the goslings added the smile as they fell over each other trying to keep up in the water and continuing to stumble over each other as they walked on shore.

Shortly after that, we wandered upon a mallard couple that found itself in a precarious situation on the GRAY path. For us to pass them, we had to walk between them and the river. I knew that this would be a threatening moment for them, and I held Sadie back as they started across the path - but they started up the path ahead of us and not towards the river. We continued on and, unfortunately, they were startled and took to flight. I try not to disturb nature, but sometimes Sadie presents a threat to the birds.

For Sadie, this was a moment that she lived for - the flight of birds in front of her must bring out a deep sense of excitement as the result of her being a part of generations of purebred bird dogs. I often refer to her as a "bug dog" rather than a "bird dog" because she seems just as excited about a bug that she points at for several minutes only to have it fly away as she gets near. There are times, however, when she gets within inches of the moth or butterfly or bug and then jumps at it - sometimes tasting the bug which is something, I don't think she likes. She makes an awful face like a child makes when taking a distasteful medicine.

This morning she found her prey. It was a moth that had flown up out of the grass and caught Sadie's eye. Sadie slowly approached the moth, jumped at it, and, thankfully for Sadie's taste buds, the moth flew off. Often the moths are very colorful with unique patterns; today's moth was GRAY.

There were splashes of color along the way - some flowers of yellow, pink and blue, the bright yellow goslings, and one of the few walkers on the Riverwalk wearing a Baltimore Orioles cap,

It was still a very nice day on the Riverwalk.

UNUSUAL SIGHTS TO BEHOLD

(MAY 13, 2010)

In the 17th century John Donne wrote a poem titled "Song." Part of it states:

If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee;
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee.

I thought of these lines this morning and afternoon while on the Riverwalk. I was "born to strange sights" as Sadie and I wandered into our daily adventure.

This morning, as we left the dark woods below Dan Daniel Park, Sadie was attracted to something in the middle of the path. I pulled her away, thinking it was something she would put in her mouth, but should not. After pulling her away I told her to "sit." She obliged and I took a closer look at what had so distracted her.

On the asphalt was a bumblebee seemingly in some state of distress. The bee was on its back and moving around onto its side and then lying still. I thought that the bee was injured, so I took some pictures of it to depict the "death of a bumble bee." After a few photos my eyes moved toward some Canada geese honking at us from a field. As I turned back around to the bumblebee, the bee had righted itself and flew away. Unusual - well, maybe not for some people, but that was a first for me.

As we walked on, Sadie pulled me into a field where she saw something. It was not anything that I could see, but she pointed at something. When I looked more closely, I realized that she had been attracted by a bird feather that was moving in the slight breeze; however, while in the field I did notice that the sun was hitting a dandelion in a most unusual way. A few months ago I took a shot of a dandelion which I put on my web page and called "The Perfect Dandelion." Here was another "perfect dandelion," so I took a quick shot of it - about five seconds later, the perfect dandelion was reduced to an empty stick because Sadie walked over it. She doesn't appreciate art. I'm sure there are other "perfect dandelions" out there somewhere.

As we approached the bridge near the Public Works department, I noticed some dew on the leaves of some bright green leaves. I started taking some pictures when I noticed movement just a little to the left of the leaf. I then saw a small strand of glistening thread and noticed a small spider in the middle of it. There was only a short distance between the two leaves where the spider has spun her thread. Was this a spider that was somewhat delusional in hoping that some insect would just, by chance, wander into her single tread, or was this the beginning of a larger project? I will never know since on the way back I couldn't remember which bush the spider had inhabited.

We did see some baby geese this morning and the barn swallows that flit about near the bridge. The babies are growing, yet they are still cute as they are herded by the adults and circled by the adults whenever danger (or perceived danger, such as Sadie) approaches.

This evening we went to Angler's Park and saw some more "unusual sights to behold." A small plant caught my eye. This plant had the bud of a bulb and the group of plants lined up looked like the domes at Red Square. these unusual plants had sprung up overnight since I had not seen them yesterday evening.

We saw the occasional red-winged blackbird and the ducks and geese. As we went onto the bridge crossing the marsh, I saw an unusual sight. The water that had covered the marsh up to and around the bridge had dried up with only a small pond remaining on both sides of the bridge and the earth where the water once was had cracked. There was still life in the marsh, but there wasn't nearly as much noticeable activity among the mallards; the great heron had, as it had for several weeks, returned to the small pond remaining in the marsh this evening near dusk. We need rain; a heavy rain will open the marsh again to the life it had a month ago when the frogs were chirping and the fowl were plentiful.

And, finally, the most unusual sight we saw today occurred on the far end of the large field where we heard a chirping sound. The sound was familiar, and Sadie was drawn to the sound. As we stepped onto the field, I saw a beautiful killdeer looking at us. As we approached, the bird just stood and looked and chirped. The bird did not threaten to fly; it just sat and looked at us. Finally, it did a little movement of rubbing his breast against the ground with his tail feathers up in the air; a very strange movement, indeed. As we moved closer, he didn't panic but just got up and walked away from us - not in a hurried way but at a leisurely gait looking back as he walked behind the chirping bird. We followed - Sadie saw a bird; I saw an adventure.

The bird seemed to beckon us into the woods near the end of the field. We followed - he led. Finally, as we got near the woods, the bird took a short flight to the path where he did his little movement, again, of going down on his body and fluttering his tail feathers. He walked toward the marsh again as we stood and watched. I looked at Sadie; Sadie looked at me after the bird had flown back into the marsh. We seemed to be asking each other, "What was that all about?"

It was an unusual ending to an unusual day.

Oh, if you go back to the poem by Donne, you will realize that the lines are not at all referring to unusual aspects of nature which Donne had experienced. He wrote:

"Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear
No where
Lives a woman true, and fair."

He seems to have been a hurt man. Perhaps he should had gotten out into nature more; though not predictable, nature is always interesting.

It was another great day on the Riverwalk.