I don’t know what kind of bird this is, but it really seems to want to come inside the house.
The red topknot folds down into a red spot when not in use.
Persistent bird has been tapping on the window for most of 2 days now. Click to enlarge.
Not getting much work done with bird tapping away. Maybe that’s okay.
Butch the cat votes for letting persistent bird in. I’m afraid his vote doesn’t count.
Persistent red topknot bird. It’s ReallyRedding.
The woman in the white outfit looked both scared and excited.
She approached us on the trail in half steps, her hand held up in the universal “stop” signal.
She moved her finger to her lips. “Shhh. You have to see this.”
I looked down the trail, seeing nothing unusual.
“There’s a mountain lion cub, over in that pipe.”
Mountain lions are not unheard of, here on the Sacramento River Trail.
Okay then. That’ll be a good shot. I swung the camera around.
The woman in white beckoned us forward.
“Where’s the mother cat?” a practicality from my trail companion, the lovely Karry. Hm. Maybe that’s a good point. I look around more carefully.
Seeing nothing, we continue toward the pipe, camera ready.
“Look! There it is.” Nikon shutter snaps rapidfire.
Snik, snik, snik, snik.
“So cute.”
I fiddle with the display and then, “Uh, I think it’s a feral cat.”
“Ohh…?” The woman in white sounds deflated somehow.
“Yeah, pretty sure. Look here.” I zoom the display viewer for her.
She simply looks away.
“I thought it was a mountain lion cub.”
The brief spell of wonder is broken. We look around.
“Well, have nice walk.”
She offers a halfhearted, “You too.” “Mountain Lion in Pipe.” Click to enlarge. Or not, if you prefer to maintain the wonder.
Older humans may regret seeing crows feet in the mirror, but this Redding old crow would surely beg to differ. Just a fleeting episode. See a one foot crow. Grab the camera. And then the traffic light changes at the intersection of two very different lives in Redding. One imagines you need be a tough old bird, even by crow standards, to get by on one foot around here. Street crow has cred. Pondering what might have happened to the other foot, nothing pleasant comes to mind. Still, dignity in the struggle. No Crow Workers Comp. No Crow SSI, or Disability checks. What are you looking at anyway?
I was waiting for a client to arrive for a showing at a home for sale in Bella Vista. Out back, this lonely male was singing his Springtime Lovesong, from the top of a propane tank.
Evidently, to good effect. Outfitted in his most attractive attire“Hey baby, you come here often?”
“Hey, hey! Where are you going?” The thrill of the chase. A neverending story. Photos by Skip Murphy, 2012.
Among the memories of my youth, I very fondly recall catching lizards. Their reptilian stares, their colorful and varied skins of beady armor. Although I no longer wield the hand-eye speed I possessed in those magical days of jars and cigar box terrariums, It seems I can still catch an occasional lizard. And still let it go.
This critter is more serpent like.
He or she fades in among the local colors. Adios.
Catch and release lizards. They’re ReallyRedding.
We humans have to learn to save for a rainy day. Meanwhile, local critters just know what to do. This guy (or gal?) was hard at work yesterday, gathering acorns.
Oak acorns have supported life here since prehistory. So good you can smell them.
No rest in this green world.
Preparation. It’s ReallyRedding.