It was barely 8:00 a.m. on a lovely Saturday morning when I decided to venture out with the camera to capture the magical moments of our resident geese. The morning sunshine was gently lighting the swake and the geese were marching from one body of water across the little rise in the meadow to the neighbor's dugout. Two families of geese were on the move; the goslings waddled along between the parents.
Wrapping my housecoat firmly around myself and stepping into my runners, I hung the camera around my neck and tried to sneak out the back door to get a photo of the geese on the move. All went well as I approached the edge of our property line and then from behind I heard the incoming Red-winged Blackbird. It was chirping furiously at me. The closer I came to the willows along the water's edge the louder the chirping became. All that chirping was making the geese and me nervous.
The geese picked up the pace and one family slid
into the safety of the dugout. I turned clutching my housecoat and camera and fled from the agitated bird. Back in the safety of the pines, I regrouped and picked a different approach to the dugout that provided a wider berth of the Red-winged Blackbird's nest in the willows. I set out again stopping every few steps to allow all the winged creatures to become accustomed to my presence. My runners were soaking wet and my feet were cold, but that didn't matter. I was on a mission armed with the singularity and determination that requires.
My mission was to take an amazing photo of the geese, one that would allow you to experience the wonder of what I see out my window. I tightened my housecoat again conscious of the unusually cool morning temperature and began to frame the picture with the camera. The Red-Winged Blackbird had settled down; one of the families of geese was swimming in the dugout and it was fabulously quiet by the swake.
The only sound punctuating the quietness was the clicking of the camera as I struggled to catch the perfect shot. Then it happened. The family turned to swim across the dugout and in that moment the perfect picture opportunity presented itself. Three downy chicks were safely swimming between their ever-alert parents. Images of each were mirrored in the slight ripples of the water. It was another magical moment by the swake. I hope you enjoy it too.
The geese picked up the pace and one family slid
into the safety of the dugout. I turned clutching my housecoat and camera and fled from the agitated bird. Back in the safety of the pines, I regrouped and picked a different approach to the dugout that provided a wider berth of the Red-winged Blackbird's nest in the willows. I set out again stopping every few steps to allow all the winged creatures to become accustomed to my presence. My runners were soaking wet and my feet were cold, but that didn't matter. I was on a mission armed with the singularity and determination that requires.
My mission was to take an amazing photo of the geese, one that would allow you to experience the wonder of what I see out my window. I tightened my housecoat again conscious of the unusually cool morning temperature and began to frame the picture with the camera. The Red-Winged Blackbird had settled down; one of the families of geese was swimming in the dugout and it was fabulously quiet by the swake.
The only sound punctuating the quietness was the clicking of the camera as I struggled to catch the perfect shot. Then it happened. The family turned to swim across the dugout and in that moment the perfect picture opportunity presented itself. Three downy chicks were safely swimming between their ever-alert parents. Images of each were mirrored in the slight ripples of the water. It was another magical moment by the swake. I hope you enjoy it too.
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