Sunday, April 18, 2010

LITTLE TENNESSEE RIVER VIEWS, EAGLES, VULTURES, TREE SWALLOWS, CORMORANTS AND MORE

Click on images to enlarge
Like overzealous undertakers;  they await their opportunity to gain at the misfortunes of others.
I'm a little late posting the adventures from last Friday but things have been a bit hectic with the forced domestication of wild grasses (MOWING),  combined with a rigorous work schedule.  I just haven't had time to get things done.  I took a boat ride down the Little Tennessee to see how the eagles were doing and enjoyed the opportunity to photograph a variety of river and river bank inhabitants.  The camera was very active to say the least.  I feel that many of these shots are some of the best I have ever taken.  It was a grand morning.  The vultures above and below are black vultures.  They sit in trees and along the banks of the river waiting for carrion to appear.  Life and death on and near the river is frequent and these winged undertakers are at the ready to capitalize on it.  Once in awhile they enjoy the benefit of fishermen cleaning fish at the rivers edge;  a real treat for them.
They act like sentinels on the watch.   There appears to be a sinister side to them but in reality they are just part of nature's clean up crew awaiting work to do.  They are really a good bunch of guys.
The real reason for the visit to the river today was to check on the baby bald eagles.  I have made two previous trips past the nest and only observed one baby.  Today proved that there are two.  I am relieved.  Junior has a sister.
The sun was behind the nesting tree and it was difficult to get a good exposure for pictures.  I did the best I could with the situation.  There isn't many positions I could get the boat in that would eliminate the sun's glare.  But, there are two little heads popping up over the edge of the nest.  It won't be long before they are bouncing up and down trying their wings.
Mother and father were voicing their displeasure at my appearance so close to the nest.  I took my pictures and pushed the boat off the mud flat with a pole and allowed the current to sweep the Gheenoe away.

Oh, that sun!  I shielded the lens with my hat as best I could but I fear glare will affect the picture quality.  Next time I won't come to the water as early and the sun will be in better position.
I kept watch for river critters as the boat floated slowly down stream close to the river bank.  I saw a cormorant resting on a dead tree that had fallen into the water.  He seemed relaxed and paid little attention to the strange apparition floating near him.
Cormorants are beautiful birds.  They are strong swimmers and have very powerful flight muscles.  It's amazing to watch this rather large bird reach mach 1 speeds in less than a heart beat.  I tried to capture the power of the bird as it takes flight.
And away!
A cardinal landed near the water.  What the heck;  he's fair  game for the camera too.  A handsome fellow he is.
One of my favorite birds on the river and lakes is the Osprey.  They are kings of the water, except when bald eagles are present.  This end of the river is bald eagle country so I guess Mr. Osprey must take second in command.  But, he is a formidable contender for king of the roost in these parts.  Ospreys are magnificent in all ways.  Their elegance in flight is unsurpassed.  They are quick when hunting and they rarely miss, although I have seen them drop fish and swoop down to catch it again.  This osprey was adding structure to his nest.  They build strong nests, usually on the tops of day markers on lakes and rivers.

This osprey flew off and disappeared around the bend in the river.
It wasn't long before he came flying back.  He had a large piece of tree limb clutched in his talons. 
He was coming straight at me.  Wow!  What a wonderful opportunity this will be.
Whoa!  Easy boy.  I'm a friend. 
That's better.  Whew!
He flew over to a half dead tree and landed while holding onto the stick.  What a treat to watch this bird.  He made chirping sounds the whole time.
I am so fortunate to be in the right place at the right time.  I am awed by these great birds.
After a brief rest, he took flight once again holding onto his precious stick.
He would soon be out of sight.  I am grateful for his presence.  He made my morning.  The eagles are cake and the osprey is icing. 
Below are some pretty fair pictures of an osprey that seemed to be paired up with the one carrying the stick.  They are probably mated.
Another cormorant.  Look at the power this bird displays.  Pure power.
I can't believe all the photographic opportunities I've had this morning.  Spring brings life to the river and surrounding areas.  Then I really got lucky.  Below are tree swallows.  They are almost impossible to photograph sitting let alone in flight.  Lucky morning I guess.
Some were rolling mud balls around and a few were catching insects on the wing.  Their aerobatic expertise was amazing.  It seems they can change direction in a heart beat.
Ah;  look at the little guy above, and below.  Is he not sweet?
Then the rush started.  They flew in all directions at the same time, it seemed grabbing small insects from the air while in flight.  They are quicker than lightning.
How great was that!?  What a morning!  Thats not all.  The boat rounded a bend in the river and there ahead were some ducks.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  I came up on the skittish wood ducks.  They really are impossible to photograph;  I thought.  Well, I proved myself wrong.  Look closely at their heads and you will see all the color that makes them one of the most beautiful ducks on water.
It appears they are pairing up.  The female is the gray duck.  Look at that handsome fellow in his tuxedo.
They won't be tolerant of me for long.
Fun while it lasted.  Not enough shutter speed.  This would have been a great shot with 1/1000th of a second
And there they go.  Straight into the sun too.
It's late and I had to be getting back.  After all;  I had MOWING to do.  Can't miss that.  That takes priority.  I did run across a little kingfisher on the drive back up the river.  He was sitting on a limb.  I snapped a quick shot of him and he dropped off the limb and didn't open his wings until after he fell about a foot.  I think birds enjoy the moments of flight.  It must be fun.
He dropped and took flight
Spring colors along the river are beautiful and they made the ride back to the boat ramp relaxing.  I just kicked back in the seat and idled the boat upstream.
I noticed a goose sitting on a ledge acting as if she were a rock.  She was preparing to build a nest where she stood and was acting as if she already had young.  She would not move a feather or attempt to run or fly.  Notice the band attached to her leg.
This mated pair swam together quietly and paid little attention to the boat, although they were aware of it.
I noticed a heron flanked by two black vultures as I approached the ramp.  This was an unlikely trio.  Then before my eyes the heron caught a fish and before he could swallow it the vulture snatched it from his mouth and ran away with it.  What a thief.  I waited for a re-enactment but it didn't happen.   I had to leave.  They appeared like a comedy team.  What a morning!  I guess I already said that.
Other vultures saw the good fortune of their pals with the heron and decided to sneak over for their share.
The heron had all he could stand and flew away leaving the vultures to their own company.  I soon broke up the party when the boat touched down onto the boat ramp. 
I hope you enjoyed the photos from the morning.   I'm really into this activity and get excited when I see the critters about doing what they do naturally in life.  Sometimes I make more of it than I should.  But,  each sighting of wild creatures teaches me a new lesson about them..  I'm learning first hand from the school of nature and I have the best teachers imaginable;  and the education is free.   See you next time.  I have four days off next weekend and you can count on another adventure or two.  Stay safe and be kind to a dog.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

JOYCE KILMER MEMORIAL FOREST AND MOUNTAINS


 
click on photos to enlarge them


below are views from the Cherohala Sky Way
 

It is Thursday April 15, 2010 and it's time to break out the motorcycle for a run through the mountains.  I want to investigate the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest.  I have not been there since moving to Tennessee.  9:00 AM this morning found me at the Suzuki dealership having a new front tire installed.  The tire was slick with no tread.  It would wear through in another two hundred miles.  I don't usually allow a tire to reach this deplorable condition but, money has been tight this past winter.  It was easier to find hens teeth than it was the money for a new tire.




The day is gorgeous.  As I mentioned;  the winter has been a long one and the bike has rested patiently in the shed until only recently.  I wanted to savor this ride.
 I rode onto the Cherohala Skyway at a slow speed.  It felt great to be on two wheels again.  After a mile I rolled the throttle to 50 miles per hour.  Ah;  The warm air wafted past my face and the bike moved effortlessly forward.  The familiar curves and sweepers brought my mind and eyes to the business at hand.  Focus and attention;  these are the qualities that are brought to the forefront of ones mind when riding motorcycles.  This is really what is meant by the statement; "Motorcycles clear the cob webs out."  What that really means is that the act of driving a motorcycle requires total focus.  All the rest of the nonsensical problems are pushed out.  The experience felt grand!  I wanted to let the big motorcycle find it's own legs.  The throttle was opened and I leaned forward and lower over the gas tank.  At 70 miles per hour the bike was laughing at the road.  I held it there for ten minutes until my exhilaration calmed down.  70 MPH provided no serious concerns.  This is a great handling motorcycle and could surely, and has, handle another 20 miles per hour plus.  But, not today.  I wanted to simply enjoy the mountains and the sun.  The speed was reduced to 55 miles per hour and held there.  I was relaxed.  We were heading for the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest which is a short distance from the Cherohala Sky Way on the North Carolina side of things.
The Cherohala is one of the greatest roads on the planet but, I was using it today as access to the Joyce Kilmer Forest.  A small road leads to the memorial forest with several pull offs and eventually to a parking area deep within the forest.  One sees rich, vibrant greens in all directions.  It is a quiet place.  Even the tourists talk with lowered voices.  There is a sense of reverence in this place.  It commands respect from visitors.  I locked the bike and entered one of several trails that leads around the mountain side.  I wanted a flavor for the place today.  I was not prepared for an exploratory march into the wilderness.
Never have I seen such a well maintained trail.  Wooden or stone steps are placed on even the most gentle inclines.  It is obvious that the trail system is designed for even the most challenged hikers.
I am amazed at the color green that surrounds this trail.  It is more vibrant and rich than any green I have seen in other forests this time of year.
I was staring at the trail in front of my feet as I walked.  Then I stopped and took a deep breath.  My head turned to the right for a look at the forest.  There before me were gigantic trees.  Monster trees! I drank them in.  No camera could capture their bearing.  These were only supposed to be the small oaks and pines.  There were trees twenty and thirty feet around a couple miles from here.  
They were enormous!  I've never seen trees this large accept the redwoods of California.  I went a bit farther and sat down beside a tree whose visible roots were the diameter of my body trunk.
These were monarchs.  They were tree Gods.   Look at the size of the root below.
I can understand why Joyce Kilmer was enamored by these great trees.  He had an entire forest of them in his day.  Actually, the entire United States must have been covered by trees like these.  They were natural then.  They had no enemy accept lightning and fire.  Then we came along.  I won't go there.  There is a prehistoric feel to this place.

Mr. Kilmer;  you have a marvelous legacy.  This forest and it's children indeed are honored by your poem and, your poem is honored by their grand countenance.
This was a good place to write.  Stories could be spun here but, I just wanted to enjoy the shade and the feeling of privacy in this place.  Joyce Kilmer is one of those fellows I would travel across the continent to talk to, if only for an hour.  I can only imagine the experience.  I will look up his biography.  It is worth my effort.  Below is an interesting story of how Joyce Kilmer's life was ended.  The ecological world sustained an tragic blow at his departing.  Thank heaven his legacy lives on in his beloved trees.
My visit to this sacred place was moving and will prove to be long remembered.  I will return and hike it thoroughly.  
 The above by G. Loucks.  Poet and don't know it.

I reluctantly left Joyce Kilmer Forest and ventured across the narrow mountain road that joins the Cherohala with route 129.  State route 129 has incurred rock slides and was closed into Tennessee.  This meant I had to drive through the Great Smoky Mountain Park to get back home.  It was a long, long way but, I loved it.  The route took me through the Cherokee Indian Reservation and past the entrance to the Blue Ridge Parkway, my favorite corridor home.  I would be riding that road to Pennsylvania soon for a visit.  The scenery through the park was exquisite.  A few pictures are provided below.
 


I'll close this entry with a simple picture.  Tomorrow's another day and something new will present itself for me to write about.  It may be eagles.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

WHAT AM I DOING?

click on photos to enlarge
What I'm doing right now is trying to stop the newscast that is coming over this computer.  It appears that some bug has invaded my computer that gives me an update on national news just about every two hours.  It is troublesome to be concentrating on some project and all of a sudden be startled by a newscaster describing some Obama debacle over in Europe.  I'll eventually figure it out but for now, I'll simply turn the volume down on the computer.

It's pouring rain today and I'm relegated to the interior of my habitat with my dogs.  I couldn't ask for a better group to be rained in with.  All my gear and adventure equipment has been made ready during the winter months so there's no urgency's to handle there.  I have started to use the RAW format in the 50D Canon camera and it is presenting image process challenges to me that I have not before been associated with.  RAW is, as I understand it, the negative of the digital camera world.  In order to view and use the RAW image;  it must undergo a special manipulative operation utilizing RAW specific software.  That is something I can focus on this afternoon also.

I received two emails from folks who read the short story, "The Last Hunt" on my blog and both were disturbed by it.  Also, both are animal lovers and found the content of the story, shall we say,  an emotional read.  They both work where I work and know me very well.  I, also, could be labeled an animal lover although my motivations for caring for animals goes beyond the personal involvement level of liking the cute, defenseless dog, cat or Bambi.   I guess it fair to say that my concern and involvement with animals is one of stewardship of all citizens of nature, their habitat and the ecology that surrounds and supports the lives of all of them.  That story, by the way, is a true one.  It is a piece of information to add to all the other pieces of data concerning things wild that may be contributed to one's mental library of thoughts.  It should support or diminish a feeling or predetermined conclusion one may have that pertains to the life and death aspect of the human/animal relationship.  The logical term that comes to mind is hunting.  Sport, necessity, species population control or revenue producing activity;  it's you're decision to arrive at a conclusion.  That story is simply what it is;  a story.  Take from it what you will.  Or take nothing from it except the feeling of revulsion.  I personally hurt when I read the story that I, myself, have written.  It's my reaction to my own story;  I am saddened by it.  Make sense?  I sometimes can write myself into a box and possibly have done so here. 
I can write happy stories but find that life isn't always happy and satisfying.  In the natural world;  in the wild places,  life is short and the end is always less than easy for natures creatures.  They weren't equipped to think about what's happening to them.  They can only hide, run, blend in, fight and/or die.  The strong will prevail;  always.   It is that simple.  But in the interim they share their beauty and grace with us.  Their fortitude and heartiness to survive amazes us and allows us to identify our own weaknesses.  They command our attention to their beauty, elegance and uniqueness.  In doing so, we feel a terrible loss at their demise and passing.   We humans have created a dangerous world for our natural friends and without our care and attention they all shall pass into history someday.  One by one, species by species they will disappear until one day a child will say to his father; "why is it so quiet in the woods dad?   Dad;  show me a bird.  Can you dad?"