In the End... A Buzzard's Roost

Rusty tin roof. Vine covered eaves. Boarded up windows. Sagging steps. Peeling paint. Leaning chimney. Weed-choked yard. 

What's your story, little house?

From whence have you come to this end? 

Skillfully crafted with love and care. Carefully groomed, maintained, and admired. 

Wind, weather, sun and chill of night; the years exact their toll.

Is this a fate we all will share... in the end...

a buzzard's roost?

Photos courtesy of Jay Randolph

Bald Eagle, American Eagle, Carolina Eagle

In 1967, the year of my birth, the fate of the bald eagle, America's national symbol, was still very much in doubt. An endangered species with a surviving population somewhere in the neighborhood of 500 nesting pairs, extinction was a possibility for a bird which had once numbered in the tens or even hundreds of thousands. By 1984, the number of breeding pairs in my native North Carolina had fallen to zero. 

Last Sunday, my son took this picture from the shoulder of the highway near our home in central North Carolina. A "Carolina" eagle, adult, complete with brilliant white head and all!

Intrigued, we returned to the area later for a closer look. Wow, what a thrill. A mature adult and three dark immature birds sharing a perch along the river.

In a chilly but thrilling hour before dusk, we sighted six or seven individuals, two of them mature adults. Before we left, Jay snapped a parting shot of this adult in flight. What a joy for a dad to experience a moment in nature with my sons which was an impossibility for my dad when I was a their age.

May the future hold many more such moments for them and their children...

The View from the Quince - Butcherbird

What better perch for the butcherbird, then a roadside copse of flowering quince? 

An abundance of spiny branches, open space aplenty, and bushes high on the bank, the better to spy careless rodents or smaller birds on a late winter morn.

Death visits swiftly when the sharply hooked bill of this vigilant voyeur finds the spine of its hapless prey.  

The thorny branches of the quince secure the prey, while the talon-less, but otherwise raptor-like, shrike tears the flesh with its bill. 

The crimson geyser of early quince blossoms hints at the grisly truth behind this handsome hunter's striking pose. Success in filling winter's larder portends success in filling springtime's nest; another day in nature's struggle for survival...the view from the quince. 

Today's photos courtesy of Jay Randolph.

Two and Twenty Blackbirds Framed by the Sky

"Last night I heard the wild goose cry, winging northward in the lonely sky..."

These days the birds are on the move. All manner of birds, and they are everywhere. These silhouettes raised quite a ruckus from their perch atop an old sweet gum just before sunset today. Common grackles and red winged blackbirds, judging by their cacophony of calls...

There are just three gnarly old sweet gums left, towering above the willows and cattails in a pool of stagnant water, surrounded on three sides by parking lots and an old field on the other.

Perfect place to pause for the night among kindred spirits; there's a bare branch just there with your name on it, brother.

Huddle close. We're in for a bit of weather by morning...

Possum by Porch Light - Two-Faced Tail Hanger

Pervasive, oddly amplified, disembodied growls fill the darkness; sourceless, ceaseless, emanating from everywhere and nowhere. Adrenaline surges, shouting flee, flee, flee!

Somehow reining in my cowardly instincts, I zero in on the location of the ferocious growler. Prepared for a quick retreat, I peer cautiously beneath the deck, expecting a rabid fox or wounded coyote to attack at any moment... 

Ferocious possum instead! Eyes lock, growls intensify, I flee, spontaneously!

Next night, same possum, change of venue. Not so ferocious by the front porch light.

Minus the growling, gaping and drooling, this little cat food bowl raider cuts a somewhat sympathetic if not downright cute and cuddly figure. Neither fight nor flight prevail this night. A brief commune, then the Virginia Opossum melts into the darkness, and I remain, reflecting, in the chilly porch light. Why so moody, marsupial?

Land's End at Day's End - Homeward Bound

At day's end, the travelers are homeward bound. Tired but cozy in the warm car, after a brisk afternoon of hiking in William B. Umstead State Park, Hunter and his lens braved the cold again to frame the perfect ending to a gorgeous day outdoors.

A relentless icy blast played havoc with his focus, uncontrollable shivers rocking his frame; but a little blur does nothing to diminish the remarkable palette of the sun's farewell. 

Land's end offers safety to a flock of seagulls as night hastens near, they too are homeward bound.

Thoughts turn to the wind-driven waves and the beings for whom the water itself is shelter, haven...

What of this spectacle penetrates the depths of their abode? Are they witness to the marvelous, moving sky?

Day's end at land's end... home, sweet home.

In response to numerous inquiries regarding our recent ode to birdwatching, there is a bird in the drab brown picture. A white-throated sparrow is visible peering from behind the dead branch directly in the center of the image (also contributed to Hoot Owl Karma courtesy of Hunter). 

Bird Watcher - Who's Watching Whom?

Hunter treads softly, camera at the ready. Some small living creature is near; he has heard it. Rustle, scratch...silence. Scurry, swish...silence.  Now, not a peep.

There!         Where?        Just there, beyond the cattails...  I could have sworn that's where it was...

What did it look like? I'm not really sure.      This bird watching's for the birds!