Showing posts with label Summer Solstice Snapshots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Summer Solstice Snapshots. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Just Ask Tom Petty
The wild iris. On the shores of Rice Creek. Nothing beats wildflowers. Nothing. (Just ask Tom Petty).
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Rainy Day Chick
For anyone who knows me, they know I love nature, and the common loon is my favorite subject to photograph.
I have a go-to-location for my loon photos. It's a quaint, quiet lake that sees some human recreation activity, but I try and time it right where no one else is ever around (like after dusk or right after the sun rises). Last year I stalked the Loon Family religiously, patiently awaiting the arrival of their chicks. The waiting paid off and I snapped a photo that, to date, is my all time favorite.
This year has been different. I kind of forgot about the Loon Family. I paddled out to see them about two weeks ago and, like clockwork, they were on their nest with eggs. I checked on them last week to see if there were any chicks. Nope.
Last night, as the hubby and I were on our way home form a hike, we decided on an impromptu paddle to visit the Loon Family. They were still nesting, but I noticed what appeared to be a small hole in one of the eggs. I was not sure if this was the beginning of the hatch or if it had fallen victim as pray. I could only hope. And the anticipation kept me up all night.
The alarm beeped at 5:30 and instead of the daily routine of shower, coffee, make-up, work...I slide a paddle in between make-up and work. I just had this feeling that there was going to be a loon chick waiting for me.
Just as my kayak touched the water, my husband called me.
" You on the lake?" he asked,
"Yes. I just got out here."
"Well, I would get off. I just checked the radar and there is a storm coming. A big one." he warned.
"Okay." I replied.
I knew the storm was coming. I could hear the thunder and tiny rain droplets were splashing on the surface of the water. I tend to push Mother Nature's limits. Because with out a little risk, there is no reward. Any my reward this first summer morning...was a loon chick just finding it's way out of his/her shell.
I snapped a photo and got the hell out of there. The thunder was giving me fair warning of the impending storm (and holy heck did it STORM!) and I did not want to agitate the loon chick or its parents.
It's supposed to be a soggy--rain predicted all week--so I only hope the Mother Nature is kind to the new additions of the loon world (hopefully the second egg hatches without incident; last year only one of the chicks made it) and that She let's the rain wanes off long enough for me to enjoy another paddle.
I have a go-to-location for my loon photos. It's a quaint, quiet lake that sees some human recreation activity, but I try and time it right where no one else is ever around (like after dusk or right after the sun rises). Last year I stalked the Loon Family religiously, patiently awaiting the arrival of their chicks. The waiting paid off and I snapped a photo that, to date, is my all time favorite.
This year has been different. I kind of forgot about the Loon Family. I paddled out to see them about two weeks ago and, like clockwork, they were on their nest with eggs. I checked on them last week to see if there were any chicks. Nope.
Last night, as the hubby and I were on our way home form a hike, we decided on an impromptu paddle to visit the Loon Family. They were still nesting, but I noticed what appeared to be a small hole in one of the eggs. I was not sure if this was the beginning of the hatch or if it had fallen victim as pray. I could only hope. And the anticipation kept me up all night.
The alarm beeped at 5:30 and instead of the daily routine of shower, coffee, make-up, work...I slide a paddle in between make-up and work. I just had this feeling that there was going to be a loon chick waiting for me.
Just as my kayak touched the water, my husband called me.
" You on the lake?" he asked,
"Yes. I just got out here."
"Well, I would get off. I just checked the radar and there is a storm coming. A big one." he warned.
"Okay." I replied.
I knew the storm was coming. I could hear the thunder and tiny rain droplets were splashing on the surface of the water. I tend to push Mother Nature's limits. Because with out a little risk, there is no reward. Any my reward this first summer morning...was a loon chick just finding it's way out of his/her shell.
I snapped a photo and got the hell out of there. The thunder was giving me fair warning of the impending storm (and holy heck did it STORM!) and I did not want to agitate the loon chick or its parents.
It's supposed to be a soggy--rain predicted all week--so I only hope the Mother Nature is kind to the new additions of the loon world (hopefully the second egg hatches without incident; last year only one of the chicks made it) and that She let's the rain wanes off long enough for me to enjoy another paddle.
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