The 10th day of the sixth month of the year of the Camellia

THE WOOD STORKS OF ST. AUGUSTINE

Just imagine a diaper and baby in the bill of this stork, and we'd probably never have kids. 

Is this the one legends or myths are made of?

They sure don't look very pretty or graceful as some of the other long legged wading birds.

Unlike most of the other wading birds, storks prefer to soar in flight.

The storks seem to  prefer the top of the largest tree in which to nest.

Even the young of the year seem to be ungainly.

I guess it is the grizzled neck and large bill that makes these very large birds so different.  They are the wood storks.

The seem to want to lord it over the rest of the birds seeking the highest branches to preen and nest.

When they arrive, there certainly is a new sheriff in town!

The 9th day of the 6th month of the year of the Camellia

Have you ever wondered why?

Or maybe it's just me!

Or Maybe Murphy was right!

Or maybe I am right in saying that Murphy was an optimist!

How is it that garden hoses have a mind of their own.  Hey, it's just rubber or some kind of plastic. 

So how come they can deliberately piss me off.

(If the President can say ass on TV, then I can say the above here!)

But------------have you ever?

Now that thing was not that way when I dragged the end of it 60 yards across the lawn!

Or!

Who knew the plug on the extension would catch under that brick?

I think that these demonic tools know just how hard it is to bend over at my age.  Not once, but three or four times to get it right!

Expletive deleted!

The 8th day of the sixth month of the year or the Camellia

I have no idea who put this together, but it's wonderful!!
This came from my cuz in Portsmouth, NH!

I remember Auto Mechanics class and working on my ford back in '57!

Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot,
Before the days of Dylan or the dawn of Camelot.

For Ike was in the White House in that land where we were born,
Where navels were for oranges, and Peyton Place was porn.

We learned to gut a muffler, we washed our hair at dawn,
We spread our crinolines to dry in circles on the lawn.

We longed for love and romance, and waited for our Prince,
And Eddie Fisher married Liz and no one's seen him since.

We danced to 'Little Darlin,' and sang to 'Stagger Lee '
And cried for Buddy Holly in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Only girls wore earrings then, and 3 was one too many,
And only boys wore flat-top cuts, except for Jean McKinney.

And only in our wildest dreams did we expect to see,
A boy named George with Lipstick, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We fell for Frankie Avalon, Annette was oh, so nice,
And when they made a movie, they never made it twice.
Or Rocky-Rambo Twenty in the Land That Made Me, Me.

 Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp,
 And Reagan was a Democrat whose co-star was a chimp.

We had a Mr. Wizard, but not a Mr. T,
And Oprah couldn't talk yet, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We had our share of heroes, we never thought they'd go,
At least not Bobby Darin or Marilyn Monroe.

For youth was still eternal, and life was yet to be,
And Elvis was forever in the Land That Made Me, Me.

And Airplanes weren't named Jefferson and Zeppelins were not Led.
And Beatles lived in gardens then and Monkees lived in trees,
Madonna was Mary in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We'd never heard of microwaves, or telephones in cars,
And babies might be bottle-fed, but they were not grown in jars.
And pumping iron got wrinkles out, and 'gay' meant fancy-free,
And dorms were never co-ed in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We hadn't seen enough of jets to talk about the lag,
And microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.
And hardware was a box of nails and bytes came from a flea,
And rocket ships were fiction in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Buicks came with portholes and side shows came with freaks,
And bathing suits came big enough to cover both your cheeks.

 And Coke came just in bottles and skirts below the knee,
 And Castro came to power near the Land That Made Me, Me.

 We had no Crest with Fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues,
 We had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal tea
 Or prime-time ads for those dysfunctions in the Land That Made Me, Me.

 There were no golden arches, no Perrier to chill,
 And fish were not called Wanda and cats were not called Bill.
 And middle-aged was 35 and old was forty-three,
 And ancient were our parents in the Land That Made Me, Me.

But all things have a season, or so we've heard them say,
And now instead of Maybelline we swear by Retin-A.
They send us invitations to join AARP,
We've come a long way, baby, from the Land That Made Me, Me.

 So now we face a brave new world in slightly larger jeans,
 And wonder why they're using smaller print in magazines.
 And we tell our children's children of the way it used to be,
 Long ago and far away in the Land That Made Me, Me.

If you didn't grow up in the fifty's,
you missed the greatest time in history.

The 7th day of the sixth month of the year of the Camellia

ALLIGATOR FARM

I always preach to photographers to plan ahead for a photo shoot, and then I go and do something stupid like this.  I'm known for that....doing something stupid that is.  On Wednesday last, I entered the arena of the rookery with a bare head full of anticipation of finding just the right shot.  Apparently, I have done way to many of these shoots in super heated sunlight and what few brain cells that hadn't been fried were quickly catching the flame.

The key to the above comment is "Bare head".  It was around two in the afternoon when I arrived and the sun of course was at it's zenith.  Apex!  Brightest and about 6,798 Florida degrees.................you get the picture.  Within five minutes the last three cups of Starbucks were boiling off my forehead and running into my eyes.  I didn't know there was that much salt in coffee.  Now, I have about three or four ball caps from the Hereford Inlet Lighthouse, but where were they?  At home.  So some sixteen dollars later I get the above over priced advertising logo to at least shade my head somewhat.

I worked these birds for a good half hour, trying to get them in sync. 

The odd man out on the left never did turn around so I could get all three in a row, but that was what I was looking for.  These are immature,  (that's young for you public school students) Great Egret's.  The look beautiful preening their feathers and cleaning themselves.  But let the mother or father show up with a beak full of food and it's every man, woman, and child for themselves.  Each of them try to grab the parents bills in order to be fed.  The twisting of necks and stabbing with bills is mayhem in the understatement.

The feeding of the Louisiana Heron chick below looks like attempted murder.  It is so rough that you have to see it to believe it.  Two other chicks are in the wings on the right, ready to step right in and try to break their parents neck until the food is forth coming.  Interestingly enough all this tangle is happening on top of the "Gator Food" box.  Of which all the players in this drama could easily become.

 

That's the mother's head the chick has in it's bill.  This ain't your ordinary mother's breast feeding technique!

You can double click on any of these images to see screen size photos.

The 6th day of the sixth month of the year of the Camellia

THE ROAD TRIP~ALLIGATOR FARM

The trip to St. Augustine was fun, but I was alone and as such not as much fun as if I were with someone. 

But!

The birds were there
as were the gators. 

http://www.alligatorfarm.com/

One of the nicest rookeries in the country is here and photographers are drawn world wide to catch a glimpse of these long legged wading birds in their most intimate moments.

Now for you folks who attended public schools in the last forty years----the white things in the trees are the birds and the loggy looking things in the water are Gators.  Can you imagine....Alligator Farm---Gators!  These gators are waiting for some hapless chickling to fall out of the nest or be pushed out by a sibling.  And believe me the sibling rivalry here is the closest thing to murder you will see.  Survival of the fittest!  So, this photo is called gator bait.  The board walk is where humans view the afore mentioned birds and gators. 

As you can see, here stands photographer magnimus.  Only two in this image, but I counted as many as eight photographers on the boardwalk at one point.  Let's see her camera body cost around $2,000, the flash about the same, and the lens over $12, 000.  Throw in another couple thousand in other incidentals and the equipment alone approaches $20,000.  So when a photographer wants $40 for an eight by ten, please consider that he/she is really not ripping you off  and furthermore it is impolite to haggle over price.  It's art for god's sake! 

At any rate, if you see photographs of long legged wading birds in magazines and books and they are very much frame filling shots that are crystal clear...............chances are good they came from this place.

This Louisiana heron is checking out her nest and making sure at least one of the eggs (in the left hand side of the nest) has been placed and turned appropriately before she sits down again.  This bird was about 12 feet from the end of my lens.

The birds at the farm were quite numerous, but the breeding season was well along and most of the young I saw were really immature of the various species and not chicks.

  Yes, a few were born on Wednesday night and I saw them Thursday.  But as luck would have it, the first Roseate Spoonbill ever born at the rookery didn't come along till Friday, and I missed it.

More to come!

The fifth day of the sixth month of the year of the Camellia

I WENT TO THE ALLIGATOR FARM!

More later, shot over 500 images like this immature Louisiana heron.

The first day of the sixth month of the year of the Camellia

ROAD TRIP!

Headed for St. Augustine, FL to photograph the rookery at the Aligator Farm. 

You will probably see a number of these guys in blogs to come. 

 Have a great week all!