The 27th day of the 8th month of the year of the OP

WILD PETS
OF A SORT



When living on the Chester River in Maryland I had occasion to build a nesting platform for ospreys about 15 feet off my dock. Noting that there were a number of nesting pairs on the river adjacent to our property and quite a few cruising young in the area, it seemed reasonable to expect boarders within a short amount of time. They are often called fish hawk or sea hawk, but osprey is the true name. As it turned out, we had residents in the first year and two to three nestlings each year for ten years. This is one of the young getting ready to test his brand new wings. If you see an osprey and he/she has spots on the wings, then you know it is a young of the first year.


Osprey are a fish eating, hawk like, raptor which catches his prey with elongated talons by swooping down on fish daring to swim too close to the surface of the water. An incredible sight to witness. Much like an eagle. In Maryland these birds arrive from their winter grounds in the south, some as far as South America, on March 15Th and leave again southbound on Sept. 15Th. To the day...just amazing.


Until the insecticide DDT was band this bird was headed to extinction, but has since made a dramatic comeback and is now a common sight along the waterways throughout the country.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osprey

The 26th day of the 8th month of the year of the OP

A TRIPLE HEADER!



Three of my loves. Photography. Fishing. Lighthouses.



The magic hour just before sunset at the Nubble in Maine. Nubble Lighthouse in York Beach, Maine is a special place, and just in the right light. This spot attracts all kinds of people for all kinds of reasons.

http://www.lighthouse.cc/capeneddick/

The lighthouse itself is on a rock offshore called a Nubble and the crowd forms onshore along a large parking lot just to look at the light, the rocks, and the ocean. In this case a few fishermen and a whole bunch of other people doing all kinds of things including photography, painting, and just plain gawking.

The fly fisherman, my sport too, said that he caught a striper just about every evening that he fished. I really did want to put the camera down and join him. But the light was just too good and the fishing option wasn't there for me. Besides, I wasn't armed with my tackle. So, I had to settle to fish vicariously through another fly fisherman and his lighthouse. A rare gift, albeit unplanned.

The 25th day of the 8th month of the year of the OP

HIGH AND DRY

It always amazes me when I am out photographing what I stumble upon. This image was made when visiting the old lighthouse at Scituate, Mass. The fog was in and I made some great shots of the light.

The tide was out and this skiff was left high and dry on a rocky beach waiting not only for owner but water as well. The curve of the beach and fog lent depth to the texture of the color of the rocks in the image. All in all a bonus to what I was there for in the first place.

The story of the old lighthouse is that during the revolutionary war as the English were approaching the harbor to attack, the light keeper's daughters played a fife and drum creating the illusion of an on shore army. Thus, keeping the English at bay and saving the small town of Scituate from attack. Fact or legend?

http://www.lighthouse.cc/scituate/index.html

The 24th day of the 8th month of the year of the OP

My maritime studies include many foggy images which only shows that I love to hide my inadequacies within the mask of nature's veil.

The boat is a bateau, which simply put, is a row boat of a little larger proportions. Of flat bottom construction for shallow use in the Chesapeake Bay and the rivers there upon. They are used mostly for crabbing and poking around in the marshes. Often an outboard motor is attached, but often as not a small two cycle engine is placed within the boat itself. These engines were called affectionately "one lungers" as they sounded like they only operated on one beat every other stroke. They would run all day long as long as there was gasoline to keep them going and a cup full was generally sufficient for a full day.

One of the most efficient fishing platforms the bay fishermen had to work with. They leaked a good bit and filled up with rain water, so a good hand bailer was necessary. The one pictured hear probably was simply used to row back and forth from shore to a larger boat tied to the same post.

I'M BAAAAACK! 23rd day of the eighth month

Getting caught up. Spent Thursday and Friday last in Charleston, SC walking and taking photos.

Eat at a few of the best seafood restaurants around, including the one where at which the accompanying photo was made.

http://www.fleetlanding.net/


We had a waterside table to watch the back side of the sunset and as luck would have it a small regatta was taking place. The offshore storms were probably related to, not part of hurricane Bob, but formed a perfect background as did the four masted schooner and Fort Sumpter. The Fleet Landing is a not too expensive Charleston restaurant with great service and good fresh fish. If anyone is interested in making a trip down there, email me and I will provide a list of such places to eat. Remember, it is a destination tourist town and reservations are a must.

A quick personal note. The week before on Wednesday I had a stint put in my chest and was home on Thursday. Just incredible our medical system! Don't talk to me otherwise! The staff, doctors and nurses at Providence Heart Hospital her in Columbia, SC were fantastic. Not to mention my superb cardiologist, Dr. Stuck, to whom I probably owe my life.

http://www.providencehospitals.com/

The ninth day of the eighth month of the year of the OP

SUNSETS...SUNRISES

Most photographers when they first start are enamored with sunsets and sunrises. And should they be because of the intrinsic beauty of nature when painted with her atmospheric paint brush at the beginning or end of a day.

Some pretty spectacular stuff can be found in galleries and on the net, and that is the problem for most aspiring photo bugs who actually want to sell their stuff. Everybody shoots sunsets and fewer shoot sunrises.

The golden hours for photography begin with the sunrise as in the bottom photo of the sun coming over the horizon on Assateague Island Beach in Virginia. That light lasts for about one to two hours depending on the time of year and the weather for that particular day. Planning is always essential to any shoot and weather is primary issue number one. It defines your light. I could not believe the number of people who where just sitting on the beach that morning waiting only for old sol to show up over the horizon. Course it does not hurt to have a cup of coffee or three at hand when doing this.

The second set of golden hours occurs in the last two hours of the day and can culminate with something as explosive as the top photograph. This one was taken on Chesapeake Farms in Kent County, Maryland and is just awesome.

It seems to me that the best sunsets we find are during October and November for some reason. Maybe, in the Northeast at least, it's because of the changing seasons with colder air aloft and warmer still hiding in the ocean, bays, and lakes. If you have favorite spots where you can look west, head there at that time of year for the sunsets. And if you can, unlike me, wake up early enough to get the sunrise ..... remember to look East. It's a quirk of nature thing.

In both photos, however, there is no subject other than the sun/sky. Nothing of interest to get one's imagination going. Perhaps a couple hand in hand in the sunrise one or an older man with his dog next to him in the sunset. Both scenarios would have improved the content value of each image.

But that not withstanding, they aren't bad representations of what nature can do when she gets crazy.

The eighth day of the eighth month of the year of the OP

Here is an article I wrote some years ago, whilst on the eastern shore of the Chesapeake Bay, just prior to the Goose hunting season. The magazine where it was published is now out of business but was called "The Shoreman" and was a monthly for which I shot covers for over two years.
It really doesn't make any difference your stance about hunting or guns for that matter, the story is more about tradition, attitude, and man bonding with his/her surroundings.

"OPENING DAY--The Dream Realized"

Early, 4:15 A.M., and the temperature on the shore was somewhere in the mid thirties. No one minded because it was the much anticipated opening day of the goose season. Adrenaline was going to keep us warm, at least until the first flight of birds approached the blind.

It would have been the same anticipatory feeling if we were approaching a deer stand, a hedge row in search for quail or a turkey blind deep in the North woods. Or departing on a much anticipated vacation. It is a special experience that begins when the alarm goes off and the sky is still dark as ink. The dreams of the previous night, however, are still very much with us.

Pre-hunt breakfasts are as special as the rest of the rituals of the day. During goose season in Kent Count, MD, most restaurants are open for business at 4:30 A.M. It is an integral part of the experience. Simply put, such a breakfast involves the consumption of far more coffee than we normally drink in a short period of time and the intake of enough cholesterol to clog a major tunnel. Beyond the nourishment is the intake of a camaraderie shared only by those harboring the same dreams.

The trip, in an old bateau to the blind, serves to reinforce either the anticipation or the actual fact that it is really cold. We thought that the dog shivering in the bow of the boat was saying that dogs also have dreams. The dog is a Lab or Chesapeake retriever that seems never to want to grow up. He can swim two hundred yards through cold, icey, choppy water to bring back a goose weighing fifteen percent of his own body weight. Be happy about it and ready to go for the next one.

First light is special too. The decoys are set and the first "Honks" of the geese are heard off in the distance. The "Krank-Krank" of the great blue heron tells us that we have invaded his ritual fishing grounds and that we are are only visitors here. Somewhere in the distance the first shot of the season warns us that this is serious business and we should be alert.

But first, comes the sheer enjoyment of the sun beginning it's assent over the pines on the opposite shore and illuminating the marsh bordering the creek upon which we wait. The smell of the salt marsh is unmistakable. In another half hour the black water in front of us will start to turn a brief golden shimmer, and then to lighter and lighter shades of grey as the leaden sky is reflected.

The geese come into our decoys and expert calls and limits are taken, but this is not the highlight of the day. The shooting, while a part, is not upon reflection, why we are here.

Instead it is the culmination of the entire experience, shared with good friends. Participating in the brief moments of being associated with the wonder of this place and all the parts that make it the dream realized.
Skip Willits