The Tension
Okhay, I’m busting ass trying to make workshop deadline. Here’s a video to give you an idea of that feeling.
The End of Ze World:
Okay, it’s not that bad but I better run anyway.
Where Are They?
I looked high. I looked low. Those ducks are nowhere to be found.
Talk about an empty nest.
They took off a couple of days ago, snuck out while I wasn’t home. We walked the neighborhood looking for them, but no ducks. They are a noisy crowd, so if they were in any of the yards near here I would have heard them.
Maybe they went to the pond by the library where the mother probably came from. There they can dive for minnows.
They hatched!
Remember I wrote about the wild duck and her eggs in my backyard? Look what I found a couple of days ago. Seven ducklings.
They are cute, cute, cute, cute, cute.
Look at those baby beaks!
That zoom lens is fantastic for getting into the nest with my eyes.
I have two videos for you. The first is of the little ducklings in the nest chewing some grass.
The second has them swimming in the pool and doing all sorts of cute stuff.
They swam in the pool all day long. The mom is an early riser and got them started at six in the morning. She kept trying to teach them how to get back out of the pool. She’d jump in and back out and the little ducklings would try, but the side of the pool is just too high up for them. They finally figured out how to hop out using the ledge that separates the pool and the hot tub.
I had a great time learning how to operate the camera on all the different settings. This is way more fun than going out in the field to photograph bees.
Stuff I Know I Shouldn’t Be Thinking
There’s this church where Spanky’s school orchestra plays all of its concerts. It’s got this multimillion dollar pipe organ. I mean, look at this thing.
I haven’t heard them play it, it’s not where we go to church.
Above that big pipe organ is this life-sized cross hovering over the pulpit area. It would be cooler if I couldn’t see the wires anchoring it to the ceiling. It would look as if it were floating in the air. But I can see the wires.
That is like a smoking gun.
My mind gets bored as the kids are setting up their instruments…
I “see” a Sunday mass in progress. A preacher man yelling at his congregation about hell, fury, and damnation. He arches his back, his arms flail back as those wires SNAP. The cross impales him, nailing him to the pulpit.
Watch the pipe organ. Those lateral tubes at the top. Let’s zoom in here.
Fuh-THOOM! Those pipes are like mini-cannons and Gatling guns, exploding fireballs and bullets onto the stunned congregation. Stained glass shatters and comes down like confetti. Blood gushes down the center aisle like a flash flood toward the pulpit…
Tap, tap, tap. The orchestra begins.
I better head to the nearest confession booth.
Water Ghost
I took the camera and tripod out today to work on photographing water. My aim was to work past the reflections and get a shot of a flower in the pool or something.
I changed my mind when I saw the reflections and decided to work with them.
This is what I got on the first shot:
Is that wicked or what?
I didn’t use any filters or change any of the colors but PhotoShopped out a few bugs that were on the water’s surface.
In an ideal world, the reflection of the trees wouldn’t be in there. If you like this photo, I’ve got another similar one on the photoblog.
Check it out if you haven’t seen it yet, I’m using WordPress’ new monotone photoblogger theme on there which is cool so far. The matting color around the photos changes with each new photo posted.
Anyway, this has been a great opportunity for me to finally get to know my digital slr. I’m finally learning how to use it manually instead of always shooting on automatic. I’m also learning the limitations of my camera, lenses, and the built in flash (that thing is harsh).
Bad Parenting
Two days ago I went out in the backyard with the dogs and while scooping leaves out of the pool I noticed Scrappy had something in her mouth. I told her to drop it and, whoa! (If you are sensitive you may want to skip this post)
She dropped a baby bird. Mireille had one in her mouth too. I made her drop it. I couldn’t understand how those ducklings were hatching so early or how they got so far from the nest. I’d been watching over that duck and they did not raid the nest. They found those baby birds on my patio which is across the pool and about 25 feet from the nest.
I was clueless as to what to do. The house was full of Spanky and her friends, about six of them and i didn’t want them to know what was going on. I called Blane outside and he said those were ducklings.
What to do? They were alive and seemed well.
Blane thought we should put them back in the duck’s nest. So we did. A few minutes later that duck came out with the baby bird in her mouth. She was trying to eat it. When she spotted me she flew off with the bird in her mouth.
The other bird was still in the nest. An hour passes, no mom duck. I knew the baby bird did not have enough feathers to retain body heat, so I held it in my hand. It died about fifteen minutes later.
All the duck eggs in the nest seemed fine. But the mom wasn’t coming back, it seemed. I kept watching out the windows for her and then noticed two doves looking all over the patio for something. Come to think of it, those baby bird beaks were sharp. Not flat like duck beaks.
Oh no!
I’d seen those doves hanging around a lot lately. Even took a photo of them last week. I suspected they had a nest around somewhere but couldn’t find it.
Doves: Bad Parents
The mother duck returned, was a little confused by the barriers we put up to block the dogs from getting to that side of the pool (the patio table and chairs turned over sideways, bags of mulch). She swam across the pool, climbed onto the side and went back to her nest.
The doves have not returned. I wonder how their babies got on the patio?
I’ll Wait for the Next One
This is a four minute short by French director/screenwriter Philippe Orreindy. A guy steps into a subway and says:
Ladies and Gentlemen, ever so sorry to bother you. Don’t worry, I’m not here to beg for money. Let me introduce myself. My name’s Antoine. I’m 29. I recently read in a magazine that there are about 5 million single women in France. Where are they? I’m looking for a lady aged between 18 and 55 who’s also had trouble meeting someone in a conventional way and who wouldn’t mind giving a honest relationship with someone a shot…
This short took me through a range of emotions. It melted my heart, made me laugh in a feel-good way, then a surprised way, and finally a guilty way. Go see if you have four minutes.
Ducks In A Row
Sweetpea made these cupcakes for me today. You can’t really see it, but they say “Happy Mother’s Day.”
Spanky made this card for me today. There is a note on the back:
It’s interesting in light of Mother’s Day, we’ve got our own expectant mother in the backyard.
Blane Jr.’s here and I’ll tell you one day all about the grip improving gadget he brought over.
In a few minutes we will go across the street to the field and take photos in the flowers.
Toni’s got a great post about being a young mother, Dear God…(The Stick Turned Blue), I hope you go read that and since it’s a new week, don’t forget to leave a comment to be in the drawing for a signed copy of her new Bobbie Faye book.
To all the moms and moms to be, have a happy Mother’s Day.
Be First
I noticed WordPress has a new template especially for photoblogs, so I started a new blog where I will post photos. So far I have six hits!
But no comments yet. So haul it over there and be first. Or else! The Cuckoo’s Nest
Let me know what you think of the title. It’s early, so I can change it to something else if that one is not good.
With this photoblog I am looking for constructive criticism to help me take better photos. There won’t be much writing over there, just working on photo skills.
Smiling Oleander
Blane says when I talk in my sleep, it is often about flowers.
One time he told me I shot upright during the night mumbling, “Pink, pink, pink, pink, pink…”
“Pink what?” he asked.
“Flowwwwwwwers…” I said as my head crashed back into the pillow.
I think they love me too.
Phantom Stawberries
My first memory of crushing failure occurred when I was a not yet literate child. The culprit, a box of corn flakes.
As you can see from this photograph I took at the grocer a couple of days ago, they’re still at it.
The lying liars!
Time after time I sifted through every corn flake in the box for those strawberries. First, trawling through the dark box with my little hands, then pouring it all out a mixing bowl to analyze the contents in broad daylight.
I kept thinking someone in the house was quicker than I and took all of them… the greedy little bastards. Not that I had any intention of leaving any strawberries in there, either.
It was like panning for gold and highly frustrating. Failure after failure.
I tried this at my grandparents, too. Opened their box and fished through with no more luck than at my own house. My grandmother kept telling me corn flakes didn’t come with prizes like Sugar Smacks and Apple Jacks. I didn’t tell her what I was looking for because I didn’t want her to know I was interested. That might keep her from raiding all the berries next time. I never told anyone what I was looking for and I’m a bit surprised right now that none of the adults could figure out why I kept digging relentlessly through corn flakes (which I refused to eat, BTW, even little kids reject things that have been “picked over”).
This box of cereal that I saw a couple of days ago reminded me of chasing strawberries that didn’t exist.
See? “With Real Strawberries.”
I’ll bet someone just as burned as I about the phantom strawberries grew up and went to work for Post just to put some real strawberries in a box of cereal.
That person is my hero today.
The image of that stupid rooster on the old box of corn flakes continues to haunt me to this very day.
Duck Watch
We’re all excited about this wild duck that decided to make a nest and lay eggs in our backyard last week.
While feeding her some bread chunks she hissed at me and lifted her body, showing me what looked like an Easter basket. She’s got about ten eggs!
I’ve been checking on her every day since and even dug up a worm for her. Then I realized she’s been digging in the dirt around her nest, getting her own worms. Great. She’s eating the bread but not while we are around. The dogs have been leaving her alone.
I did some research on the web and found out it takes about 28 days for the eggs to hatch. That is if they have been fertilized.
If?
Oh. Yeah. Well how do I know?
More web research…
You have to “candle” the eggs which means hold it up to a flashlight in a dark room. You can see the embryo developing through the shell. I made Blane snatch an egg from her and we checked.
It looked like this:
Which means we will have at least one duckling. We only candled (and returned) that one egg as we didn’t want to upset the mother. I’m guessing, okay, hoping they all are and maybe, just maybe, in three more weeks we’ll have some little ducklings swimming in the pool.
I can’t wait. I’m having grandducks.
Did you ever try to hatch a chicken egg from the fridge when you were a kid?
Bobbie Faye Is Back
Anybody like free stuff? How about signed copies of books? Yeah?
My Cajun friend Toni McGee Causey announced today a new contest to roll out her latest book, Bobbie Faye’s (kinda sorta, not exactly) Family Jewels, due out this month.
In her blog post Random Things I Do Not Understand, Toni says:
And starting today, every Sunday until my book release, end of this month, as in May 27th, I’ll be giving away two signed copies of both books – Bobbie Faye’s Very (very, very, very) Bad Day and book 2 – Bobbie Faye’s (kinda, sorta, not exactly) Family Jewels – to one of the commenters (US/Canada), 18 years old and up. (Hey, there is cursing and murder and mayhem and sex, almost all at the same time. I am not getting in trouble here.) So post anything you do not understand in the comments and next Sunday, I’ll announce a winner… each Sunday for four weeks.
I haven’t read this one yet, but the first one was absolutely hilarious and chock full of Cajun mayhem and adventure.
I just love the cover. And Toni, of course. But that’s not why I recommend her novels. And I swear it is not to brag that I have a friend with a couple of published novels.
No, Toni is a Cajun and she writes about the culture as only an authentic cajun could. Reading her stuff is like signing up for a laugh fest. I promise.
Now go click on that link and leave a comment there. Let me know if you win. Good luck, everyone.
Stuff Cajun People Like
Okay, to make up for sending you all to that other site, I discovered this:
StuffCajunPeopleLike
That guy knows what he’s talking about. He grew up not too far from where I did. Go see, go see.
That site makes me laugh.
That site makes me hungry.
That site makes me talk funny.
That site makes me homesick.
At least I’m going to another crawfish boil tomorrow.
