Two days of Osprey observations

On Monday, I stopped by the osprey nest on the way home from school. I was a bit worried for the little one, exposed to relentless sun and extreme temperatures. Mom seemed restless, flying in and out of the nest, looking for nesting material. Dad was there when I arrived, but left a few moments later, and didn't return. Lately, he is staying away for much longer periods. Bill's sister, Phyllis, kindly suggested some names for the osprey juvenile. Olive, Alice, Rosie or Penelope if it is a girl, and Oliver, Andrew, Rupert, or Pierre if it is a boy. Does anyone have any preferences? It's hard to make out details unless you click on the pictures, but this one really shows the mother's talons gripping the stick.
She comes back to the nest, and appears to be teaching Junior to help her with nest building.
Junior has mastered the art of pooping clear of the nest.
Off she goes. Look at those talons!
A shadow under her..
...and she's got it. A great stick!
She seems about to lose it.

A balancing act.It was thrilling to watch her, but right after this shot, she dropped it. I left shortly after that, but as far as I know, she didn't make an attempt to recapture that stick. Maybe she realized it was a bit too long for the nest.
Yesterday (Tuesday), I met "Grandpa Wayne", a gentleman who has spent even more hours observing the osprey than I have. He was there for the mating dance, including a spar between suitors, and finally, for the successful nest building and eventual birth. He watched me with my camera, and asked how long I had been there. When I told him, he thought I might be thirsty, and went back to his vehicle to get me some ice cold bottled water. Man, did that ever hit the spot! Thank you, Grandpa Wayne. I looked for your blog, but wasn't successful in finding it, but your company was great fun, and your obvious love for the osprey touched my heart. I particularly loved your admission that you were tempted to gather up nesting material and deliver it for the parents, when they were struggling to create a home for their baby. I, like you, hope that Junior will fledge successfully, and feel relieved each day to see him gaining strength. *Has anyone noticed how quickly he is growing?!

Grandpa Wayne and I both came to the same conclusion that, with the heat on Tuesday even worse than the day before, Mama was doing all in her power to shade Junior.

She seemed to move around the nest with the sun. Junior was happy to stay under her wing.
Papa arrived with a fish. He took it to his personal pylon.
He worked on it for a while, making sure that it was dead. We thought he wanted to be certain there was no danger of it flapping around and falling out of the nest. We didn't see him eat even one bite of it.
A heron flew in, and settled behind the seals to do some fishing.
Papa delivered the fish to the nest.
Before greeting Junior, he made sure to whisper a private message to Mama. i had a picture of this which I loaded this morning before work, but it has suddenly disappeared, and there seems to be no way to recover it. You will have to use your imagination.

Suddenly, there seemed to be unrest, and then we saw two strange osprey arrive. Here is one of them, showing off the beautiful patterns on the back of its wings.
Then, I saw its front, and with the mottled necklace, as explained by Ship Rock (See previous message), realized it was a female. There is a second nest near my school, visible from the second floor window at, but too far away to see any detail. I think this pair, for some reason, decided to do a fly by, and check on their neighbors.
There was lots of parent-child action to observe from my viewing spot. I wonder if the osprey ever compare notes with the seals.
A view of the area. Osprey nest at the left, some geese swimming by, seals near the back pylon. Seabus on the way to Vancouver in the far distance.
Meanwhile, Mama fed Junior..
..and went back to her shading duties as he slept peacefully, on a full stomach.
I headed for home, happy to have had the privilege of sharing thoughts on wildlife with Grandpa Wayne, and well hydrated, thanks to him, for my trip.

First osprey images with my new camera

 When the repairman at the shop told me my camera would not be ready until sometime next week, I looked ahead to a camera-less weekend (my teeny one just didn't cut it), and made a quick decision to go through with a plan that has been brewing for a while.  I bought a new one.  No details for now.  There were some disappointments, as I realized I wasn't actually getting any closer to my subjects than with the last camera.  Bill comforted me, saying that my cropped photos would have better detail, and also adding that I can buy a 2X attachment that will bring the images much closer.  He was right about the cropping, and all in all, I'm fairly satisfied with the day's results.  

I still have a very long way to go before I know what I'm doing, but here are my first attempts, all taken in North Vancouver, near my school.

This, I think, was my best shot of the day.  Mama is sitting on the nest with Junior (any suggestions for names?) as Papa comes in with a sunfish. 

The rest of the pictures are in the order taken.  The seals were entertaining as always.
I think this might be a parent and wayward child.  There was quite a scuffle as the young one came quite close to where I was standing.  (The tide was out, so that meant much closer than the seals normally swim.)  The larger one chased it back to a safer distance, growling all the while.
I waited for almost two hours for Papa Osprey to return, the longest I've ever seen him stay away from the nest.  In the meantime, I tested out the camera on other attractions.  I like the sparkly wave here, and the seagull, in my happy interpretation, looking forward to the ride.
I told you that I waited for two hours.  What I didn't mention is that Bill, with not even a hint of complaint (he did say he was doing Python programs in his head), looked after Black Jack, encouraged me when I felt discouraged, clambered back up the rocks to his truck to get my tripod (which was too small for the job), and this after driving me to North Van through heavy downtown traffic.  I need a new word.  "Thank you" is inadequate for the kindness and patience Bill shows.  He really is worth his weight in platinum (The highest value metal I know of:)  In this picture, Black Jack was amusing Bill with her prancing and dancing, as she tried to play with a sparkly reflection that she perceived to be alive.
Black Jack really loves to play around the shore line.  She was a tiny bit fed up after more than two hours, but overall, she managed to do a good job of keeping herself entertained (with a little help from Bill).
The seagulls gave me lots of practice in following flight.  
This wasn't such a great photo, except that I thought there were great possibilities for amusing dialogue.  All suggestions welcome.
Junior, himself.  A gentleman was there when I arrived, although he finally gave up on waiting for Papa.  He described Junior as "an ugly little thing" which I suppose, from some viewpoints, could be true, but to me, he's absolutely beautiful
Papa finally did arrive.  I thought this family shot had possibilities for dialogue as well.  Something along the lines of: Mama -  "Dear, he's getting to be quite a handful.  I really wish you would hang around a bit more."

Junior - "Man, they're talking about me again.  I can't wait to move outa here."  
"Just today, he (whisper, whisper)..."  
Here, I can't really make out where Junior's head is.  He seemed to topple over, and Mama didn't appear to be very sympathetic at all.
"I can fly..  almost."
"I thought you'd never get here."
"Feed me.  NOW."
"Where are you going?"
I learned from Ship Rock that Mama has a necklace (darkish mottling across her chest).  He is a fountain of knowledge, as well as a great photographer and a generous human being, happy to share what he has learned by dint of hours and hours of observation.  It's well worth your time to check out his photos at this link.
I think it must be quite the challenge to begin to understand how to manipulate those large wings.  Junior almost seems to be kneeling in this one.  I'll be watching him regularly and hoping he fledges successfully.  I have no idea when that will be, but he sure is growing quickly.  In just the couple of weeks since I have begun watching him, he has easily doubled in size.
Thanks for reading.  Part of the fun of taking pictures is reading your comments and getting to share a bit of my learning process.  Thanks also to Bill for his endless patience and kindness.  I know I said it once, but it bears repeating:)

Oh me oh my...

Oh me, oh my..  my camera is spending its 4th night at the repair shop.  At first, they said it needed a cleaning, but today, the repair person said it is in worse shape than he thought.  It needs an overhaul.  I don't know if it's homesick, but I do know I miss it.  I'm using my older, smaller camera until I get it back.  It did a fair job of capturing these boats moored at Jericho Beach on Monday evening.

On Wednesday, the tide was out, and I was able to get quite close to the osprey nest near my school in North Vancouver.  There were four very professional photographers there, and to their credit, not one of them made me feel silly with my little panasonic.  This was the best shot I could manage of the baby in the nest, but if you check out Ship Rock's flickr site, you can see some outstanding photos.  It's worth taking time to look at his slide show as well.  You can also see Nilsson's smugmug photos.  Oh me oh my, I love both of these photographers' work!  

Ever since Jean's post (linked in my previous post) about things she sees on the beach, I've been looking more carefully at the world under my feet.  She had shown a purple starfish, and having never seen one, I was amazed.  Ship Rock kindly took time to show me one on the beach near the osprey nest.  He picked it up and showed me its little suction cups, and it's mouth at the center.  Absolutely fascinating.  
Wednesday was quite the day.  After spending my lunch break watching the osprey, I joined the school cycling club later that afternoon for a trip to the Lower Seymour Conservation Reserve.  It was a beautiful ride, with paved surface open only to cyclists, joggers, strollers, and in-line skaters (experienced only, because of the hills). 

I took the Second Narrows Bridge home from Seymour, only the second time I've crossed that bridge on bike.  It is truly narrow!  No pictures because there is no passing room at all, and I didn't dare stop. It made me think of the Burrard bike lane, which is at least four times wider.  I'm getting used to the new trial arrangement, but am not convinced it was the best solution.  I still feel barriers alone could have solved the problem.  I stopped on Tuesday to take a picture of one of my concerns.  There are a couple of really rough expansion girder gaps.  They scare me.  With cyclists on my left speeding by, I have to keep right, and along with some drainage holes, there are two gaps like the one shown below that seem dangerous. This one is not the worst one, but it was the easiest to capture without irritating cyclists behind me too much.  I'm hoping if the trial is declared a success, that they will find some way of smoothing over these gaps.  

Wednesday evening, Bill and I watched the fireworks from a great vantage point on some steps leading to the beach from Alma Street. Black Jack is not at all afraid of the big bangs.  She sat on my knees, as relaxed as could be.  I am still hoping someone may eventually invent silent fireworks.  Many animals and birds are terribly stressed, and that makes me sad.  

And, a couple of bird shots taken on Monday evening at Jericho (with my little camera).  
After taking this shot, I read EvenSong's post, in which she had also taken some pigeons.  I guess we were both on the same wavelength that day.  It's worth checking out that link to her post, to see her beautiful foal, Jackson.
One final "oh me oh my".  I've done something to my foot.  Walking is just about impossible, and, although I managed to cycle home, even biking is difficult.  How could this happen?  I didn't even fall.  I knocked it against a whiteboard stand at school, said ouch, and then forgot about it.  A couple of hours later, it began to swell.  Please, please, let it be better in the morning!  

Weekend Walks

Sunday evening, and I arrive home after spending time with Bill and Black Jack on the fishing dock near Jericho Beach.  The plan was to capture the sunset, but in the end, the sun's way of highlighting its subjects became the evening's focus.

Here, a rare seagull.  Jericho is usually a birder's paradise, but the folk festival caused most of the birds and beasts to go into temporary hiding.   

Black Jack craning around Bill to check out who knows what..

Here, I like to think Black Jack is contemplating the sunset, but the truth is she's quivering with excitement, and neither Bill nor I have any idea what is triggering her intense interest.  Maybe rats under the dock?

Thinking back over the weekend..

SATURDAY DRIVE TO RIVERVIEW HOSPITAL

A documentary several weeks ago about Riverview Hospital stimulated my curiosity.  A lady from the Riverview Horticultural Centre Society talked about the arboretum, and about the empty buildings on the land.  Once a very large hospital for people with mental illness, Riverview now has many empty buildings, and only a small number of patients still living on the grounds.  Many seem to think those buildings could be occupied again, providing a place for Vancouver's homeless to live a much improved life.  You can listen to some of the documentary at this link.  Bill and I began exploring, and we were amazed at the vastness of the property.  A patient was sitting with his guitar and we asked him to play us a song.  He did, and we found it strangely peaceful..  I say "strangely" because after he stopped singing, he told us there was only once place he wanted to go and that was East Hastings.  It struck me that this man would disagree with the current opinion that the mentally ill are better off at Riverview.  

We left the man, feeling a bit sad for his obvious lack of peace.  Although he didn't show appreciation for the trees around him, I wondered it they bring him some sort of comfort .  There are some real beauties on the property.  Many have small metal plates attached to them, with an identification number and both the latin and the English names inscribed as well.  The tree below is a Camperdown Elm.  When I went to take a picture of Bill under it, he quickly reached for his hat.  I wondered what he was doing.. 

..and laughed to see him switch the hat around.  We had had an earlier conversation when I complained that the brim of my hat was getting in the way when I take pictures.  I love this picture of Bill, with his eyes twinkling blue and a mischievous smile on his face.
I learned that because the trees were planted far enough apart to give them space to grow to their full potential, many reach right to the ground.  Bill and Black Jack are under this tree, but it's tough to see them.

We continued walking and discovered Finnie's Garden a short distance away.  You can learn more about this garden , and also about the trees, by going to the Riverview Horticultural web site.  

Lovely branches used creatively in this walkway.
I haven't seen grapes growing very often.  With the sun on these, it seemed they were almost ripe enough to eat.
 I love the way Black Jack hangs out of Bill's arms, absolutely confident that he will keep her safe.
For tree huggers, Riverview is a gold mine.  No pictures of Bill hugging a tree, but I think he came close:)  He was the one to draw my attention to this beauty.
There were several places set up for a peaceful rest stop.  We saw some photographs near these chairs, covered with plastic and attached to the trees.  One showed a bear standing on its hind legs, checking out the very tree we were looking at.  That was the first time I remembered that we were in bear country.  We continued our walk, with just a tad more attention to the sounds around us.
We discovered a small building near this spot, with pamphlets at the door listing more than 100 native plants to be found in the garden, and also explaining a little about Finnie's story.  The web site link above will give you that same information.    
We enjoyed our walk around the Riverview hospital grounds, but the birds must have been having their afternoon siesta, and we decided to revisit Colony Farms, where we had been last weekend.  We approached from a different direction this time, looking for some of the birds we had seen.  We were again reminded that a little caution would be sensible.
Bill and Black tried their best to flush out a few birds, but it was definitely a slow day.
Recently, while watching the osprey nest in North Vancouver, I met a photographer who gave me his web address.  I was blown away by his photographs.  If you check out his site, you will see a photo of the back of a bird that is breathtaking.  I was thinking of that shot when I took the one below.  The thing about this photographer, is that he gets the exotic shots, but his talent is such that two pigeons are as exciting as many of the more rare species.  My first thought when I saw his work was, "I'm never going to take another bird photo again."  My second was, "I need a new camera."  My third was, "I have a long way to go, but challenge is a good thing."
Three mama ducks exchanging stories.

SATURDAY EVENING WALK WITH BLACK JACK AT JERICHO

The folk festival was in full swing.  We walked around the perimeter.  Bikes were everywhere.

I heard on the news this evening that the festival is struggling to meet its financial challenges, but I also heard someone say there is a $1 charge to park your bike.  For a finance-challenged person like myself, it seems the bike parking alone could pay for festival costs.  Okay, I guess not, but really, I can't remember ever seeing this many bikes in one place.
Lots and lots of places to buy food.
The East Bazaar
The West Bazaar
I've already complained about the festival, but honestly, I do appreciate that there are some great musicians needing exposure, and clearly crowds and crowds of people who want to hear them perform.  That's a good thing.  But, booming bass, cigarette and several other kinds of smoke, and multitudes of adoring fans do not make for happy wildlife.  The Jazz Festival does great downtown.  I think the Folk Festival could do just as well, and at the very least, would mean many less stressed birds and beasts.

SUNDAY MORNING WALK WITH BLACK JACK

On the way to the beach I passed these flowers, and had to stop.  The home owner told me that they are Trumpet Vines.  He said that they have to be cut back drastically, in order to get them to bloom this abundantly the following year.  He was fine with my taking pictures, adding that he's happy to have his garden provide pleasure for passers-by.  It surely did that! 

The tide was out and Black Jack and I had fun exploring the beach.  I was very happy to see this heron.
It flew off, and I thought I was out of luck.
Remembering Jean's post about sand dollars and other treasures on the beach, I consoled myself about losing the heron, by exploring some of the things right under my feet.  I didn't see any sand dollars, but did see some shells and seaweed.
Then, the heron came back to its original spot!  Not only that - I saw it catch a fish!
I did feel sorry for the fish, but very happy for the heron.  I've seen a heron at this spot before, and now I know why.
Black Jack and I were gone a long time, and I was now in need of a latte.  We went to a shop on 4th Avenue that has opened up fairly recently.  Their lattes are not quite up to my favorite Wicked Cafe ones, but they are very good, and today's sure did hit the spot.  No link today, as I've forgotten the name of the shop, but soon.
I love the way Black Jack's legs dangle over my knees.  She seems to have the knack of making herself comfortable, wherever she is.
She turned to look back, without a thought that she might fall.  Her expression made me laugh.
It was a good walk and a fun weekend.  Thanks to Bill and Black Jack for great company and lots of laughter.

What we see..

Black Jack sees cats wherever she goes.  In the building where I live, several people walk their cats regularly, in the way that most people walk their dogs.  There are lots of neighborhood cats as well.  Black Jack cannot walk by the corner of Alma Street and 4th Avenue without checking on Fat Cat at Amy's "Garden Party" shop.  Fat Cat lives at the shop.  He is getting old but he has a good life and he is happy.   Normally, when Black Jack looks in the window after business hours, Fat Cat is sound asleep on a nice soft couch, but last night, he came to the window, and they took a good look at each other.

Speaking of Black Jack, she has been a sick little dog today, and this evening, I see a subdued shadow of her normal self.  I didn't give her any supper, hoping to get her digestive system back on track, and although she looked a bit disappointed, she didn't object as I expected.  She has slept most of the evening in my arms.  I am worried, but have decided to hang in until tomorrow.  If she is still the same in the morning, a visit to the vet will be necessary.

I see these flowers everywhere I look lately.  They are all around my school in North Vancouver.  
A lady walking her dog saw me taking pictures of them, and told me they are called Butterfly flowers.  Lovely name.
This little bird seems to like them too.
I sit on this ledge when I get a chance.  It is about a 3-minute walk from my school.  
From that ledge, I watch the seals.  There are at least 25 of them.  I like these two, end to end, with a third watcher trying to figure out how to fit into the picture.
This one looks for fish.  I see its whiskers, and for some reason, my heart melts.
The crow and seal take a good look at each other.  They are quiet, but I think they are having a conversation.  Any thoughts on their dialogue?
The seabus goes by, as the father osprey eats his fish.  Maybe a sunfish?

Here, mama calls to the father before she leaves the nest.  

I think she is telling him that she needs a short break, and reminding him to watch the nest while she is gone.  She never seems to stay away more that about two or three minutes.

For the past few days, I have seen only tiny glimpses of the baby.  Mostly I hear it.  The moment mama stops handing over the food, it calls out in an incessantly demanding voice.  Today, I saw it sit up tall for the first time.  It seemed to be checking me out.  So did Mama. 
Can you see the food in its mouth?
Papa arrives with more food.
Mama and baby watch him leave.  He is an excellent provider.  He is never gone long, and he always seems to have a successful hunt.  I wonder how many trips he makes in a day.  I would guess at least four or five in an hour.  No wonder the baby is looking so strong.
A minute ago, Black Jack jumped off the bed, thinking she heard something outside.  We looked together, but I guess whatever it was decided to leave when I opened the patio door.  I am hoping her excitement is a sign that she is on the mend.  We will see tomorrow.

Burrard Bridge, Folk Festival, Colony Farm

I'm not on the Burrard Bridge, but I am on a bike, even if it is almost a year ago, and on Vancouver Island.  That's the best I can do, to come up with an image to go with my thoughts about the first day of the experimental cycling routes across the bridge.

So, what are my thoughts?  I'm almost afraid to say this.  In fact, I was afraid to say anything at the Vancouver Cycling Coalition site, where they are begging cyclists to post their positive thoughts (only).  I was also too chicken to say anything on the CBC comment pages.  Part of the reason for that was the sheer number of comments there - 

way too many to read, although I made a valiant effort.  My thoughts?  Here goes....I didn't like it very much.    

Okay, don't yell at me.  I do appreciate the effort, but the cost really bothers me, as do the exacerbated hard feelings between motorists and cyclists.  Going North over the bridge this morning, I was really happy.  The barrier may not be beautiful, but I feel it addresses the problem of safety, which was the only complaint I've had, after more than four years crossing the bridge.  Yes, the bike part was narrower than before, but it was wide enough, and it left lots of room for pedestrians to my right.  Yes, it might have meant a little more time to get across, if a slower cyclist were in front of me, or it might have irritated a faster cyclist behind me, but the bridge just isn't that long, and the few minutes delay that could be caused by a slower cyclist is just not that big a deal.  Why couldn't they have done the same thing on the other side for my trip home?  That huge lane allowed lots of space for speed-demon cyclists to fly past, thrilled to have a faster route.  They reminded me of the drivers who compulsively pass everyone in their path to get their shot of one-up-man-ship for the day.  I felt in more danger from cyclists than drivers.  The old way, with just a barrier added to keep me from being pushed into traffic, would have been cheaper, better PR and just fine with me.  They're, I've said it.

And now, for rant #2 - the Folk Festival at Jericho Park.  As with rant #1, it comes from someone who loves the very thing they are about to not support.  I'm a music teacher for Pete's sake.  I love all kinds of music, including folk, but why does it have to be in one of the most beautiful and delicate nature areas in the city.  Why couldn't it be on city streets, like the Jazz Festival?  I don't get it.  The trauma to the green space has barely begun...  

But already, even though it still looks quite beautiful in many spots, the absence of bird songs and wildlife sightings are noticeable.  Just wait until thousands of loud and littering people try to compete with a kazillion amplifiers to make themselves heard.  They don't really listen to the music, it seems to me.  They yell over it.  I imagine the trauma to birds and beasts, and my heart aches for them.
Ten days to set up, at least a week to take down, and maybe four days of the festival itself.  I'll be honest.  I hate it.

End of rants.  Promise.

Below, a very poor picture, but the first that gives a definite view of a little mouth in the Osprey nest at the foot of Fell Street in North Vancouver.  The parents are working like crazy to keep it fed.  It's humbling to watch them.  

These next five pictures are all of neighborhood blooms taken yesterday and today during my walks with Black Jack.  It amazes me how the gardens change from day to day.  Lately, orange and yellow seem to be everywhere.
Check out the bumble bee.

On Sunday, Bill and I went to Colony Farm.  It is a birder's and photographer's paradise, although my pictures for the day were not very impressive.  My first feeling about the place was mixed.  The long grasses, elderberry  bushes (at least that's what I think they may have been), bird songs and Black Jack's enthusiasm were  all encouraging, but those houses in the background seemed incongruous, to say the least. 
It didn't take long, though, before I knew I would want to return to this spot again and again.

Is this wheat?  I found it beautiful, and Black Jack was fascinated with whatever she thought was hiding in its midst.  I took a lot of pictures of her, but her tail end has never been her more flattering half, so I'll spare you the vision.
My photograph did not do this tree and its surroundings justice, but maybe you can imagine.  
There were all kinds of new birds to discover, but they mostly were heard and not found by me on Sunday.  The best shots I managed to get were these two.

The trip, however, was made very memorable by our encounter with a man I will call "Ship".  He is an extremely talented photographer and even better than that, he cares deeply about his subjects.  He told us the story of this Pied-billed Grebe mother.  I'm sorry the picture is so poor, but I have to show it, because it goes with the story.  

To the left, is a nest in the middle of the river.  Two young grebes sit in that nest, and although they are old enough to swim, they seem, so far, not to have left their home.  To the right is a mother, with two younger children that hatched later.  Her original brood consisted of seven babies, but five of them, along with her husband, were killed by an otter.  She deposited the other two on that nest, and must have told them to stay there.  Her younger two stay in a nest closer to the water's edge, and swim with her when she goes to feed the older ones.  Ship believes her strategy is to keep the two older ones separate, in the hopes of at least being able to save one set, if the otter goes after the other.  It's a tragic story, and again, I am humbled.  I was also touched by the fact that Ship is so aware of the drama and courage and hope in it.  He didn't say that he had given the birds names, as I have been known to do with the herons, but I can't help but suspect he knows those birds more intimately than any I've talked about previously in this blog.   

Here, if you can manage to see her, is the mother feeding one of the younger children.  I hope to go back and do a little better with the picture taking, and I really hope that this family will still be there.  In the mean time, check out Ship's photographs on Flikr.  You will be stunned, I promise.

And finally, to conclude the post, some pictures of Bill with Black Jack.  Here, she is taking advantage of her vantage point to case the area.

...and on the other side...
...nothing so exciting that she can't take a minute to tell Bill she loves him.  This was my favorite shot on Sunday.
Thank you, Bill, for another great day!

What is...

I looked through the pictures of this post, and realized the true stories behind the images are sometimes deceiving.  A small google search using the words "emotion" and "birds" took me to the work of John Gould, Thomas Bewick and John James Audubon, all well known for their studies of birds in nature.  This article about Gould highlights his response to Bewick and Audubon.  Gould leaned more to Bewick's version of domestic bliss, rather than to Audubon's more violent depictions.  He did acknowledge the validity of Audubon's approach with less sugar-coated backgrounds in some of his pictures, but even here, "ascribed [any obvious violence] to an excess of nurturing and love.

Interestingly, my little search also took me to an article about the Simpsons, and this quote:

 The "What is" is the actual maddening complexity of human nature filled with greed, insolence, power-struggle, jealousy and pettiness. According to Bruce, and the best The Simpsons have to offer, by ignoring the imperfections and fears of our world and replacing them with rose-colored fallacies we create the framework for disappointment and disillusionment. "There is only what is," scoffed Bruce in 1964. "The what-should-be never did exist, but people keep trying to live up to it. 

With some of those thoughts in mind, here are some photos taken over the past couple of days.

MIne, all mine.

I am the king of the castle and I will steal whatever is owed to me.

I can fly! 

What are you looking at?

You with the camera.  Do you have anything for me?

Where are you, Papa?  I need food.  Now! 

  Contentment for some, but others plot....

I itch.  O man, I itch!

Look at me.  I rock! 

You come down from there right now!

All right.  I'll go get my own food.

I want up there too.

Hard work, this!  I'll try another route.

I give up.  This spot is not perfect, but it will have to do.

On the way home, I stopped at Stanley and Stella's tree at the heronry.  This youngster is learning to branch hop, a second step in learning to fly.  (Step one is staying on one branch and flapping the wings.)

Taking off.

Fly to the branch above.

The landing.

Another youngster negotiating a landing.

Yikes!

Phew!

Oh no.  Papa's arriving.  Better get back to the nest and grab the food first!

Papa flies in, his mouth full.

Man, those kids are getting big and all they do is squawk and fight.  

 This parenting stuff is for the birds!  Think I'll just drop it off and run.

The same day, later in the evening at Jericho.

I am a kingfisher and I am hungry!  

I am hungrier!  I will steal the fish from the fishermen at this dock, and from you the kingfisher too!

The lady on the dock is hungry too.  She wants to catch and hold on to the light.

Light, schmight.  I'm the hungriest of all.

Look at us.  Just add light, a few shadows, and we make even this ugly garage wall beautiful.

Home, sweet home.

I will not look at your camera.  I repeat, I will not look at your camera.

*I may be the world's worst caption writer, so feel free to add suggestions.  Thanks for reading!

Osprey

Yesterday, I finally saw the osprey nest that several people had told me about.  It was a dull day, so the pictures are very poor, but here they are.  My heart rate sped up considerably as I watched them.  A man, Robert, was there as well, taking pictures and kindly telling me what he has learned about them.  He feels sure there is one baby in the nest, although even with his more sophisticated camera, he hasn't been able to document that as yet.

Here is a view of the area in North Vancouver, not far from my school.  The mother is in the nest on the closest pylon, the father is on the next one, and way out at the end, is a cormorant.

Mother
Father
"You get over here right now!"
The happy couple.
Father decided it was time for a nice bath.
Hard to make out which end is which, but he was having a great time.  (Clicking on the photo will enlarge it.)
Aa-a-a-ah!
Last but not least, the head.
Then off to...
...look in the window of this boat and dry off.
Back to the pylon for some more drying time
All for now, but sure hope to follow this little family for some time to come.

There were other bright spots to a dull yesterday.  There were some seagulls and some geese and one crow silhouette that I may post when there's more time.  I also saw Cocoa Chanel.  The pictures of her yesterday were too poor to post, but this link will take you to a story about her that I did several months ago.  I hope to see her again as well.    

Part 1: Herons, crows, Maine Coons and some dogs on Friday

Three posts at one shot, to catch up on more than a week of bikes, birds, and beasts.  I give this post a title, and then begin with a photo that doesn't fit.  These were not taken on Friday, and they have nothing to do with herons, crows, Maine Coons or dogs, but they caught my eye and made me happy.

And now, the herons.  Friday was an unusually early finish at school, so I had time for a good stopover at Stanley Park, as I headed home.  It was impossible to tell what is happening in the area where I had previously watched Serena and Sam.  This nest is close to where I thought their nest was.  What amazed me about the picture is how big the "babies" are.  I think the centre heron is an adult, and the ones on either side are kids.  I can't imagine how they all manage to sleep in that nest.  Can you?

I have learned a new viewing spot, where I can photograph the action in Stella and Stella's tree during the afternoons.  There are at least three babies in that tree, and probably more that I didn't manage to see.  This one was waiting anxiously for a parent to return.
Then it was joined by a sibling.
Soon, the two of them were squabbling, perhaps over who gets to sit higher or at the better lookout.
Then, I noticed this one at the very top of the tree.  It looked to my left...
... to my right...
... up...
... and even higher up...
"Is that you, papa?"
"I'm really, really hungry!"
"Are you feeding my brothers and sisters first?  No fair!"
I never did get to see the parent.  I think it must have flown in from the other side of the tree.  I did see this one though.  It had fallen from the tree, but was unhurt, and enjoying the tennis match.
It focused on the game for a long time...
... but finally noticed me and my camera.  I was sitting in the grass, maybe 5 feet away from it.
It watched me curiously, but did not appear to be upset.

I found its legs both humorous and fascinating.

The heron stayed there for a long time.  In fact, it was still there when I left.  A parks board person came by, and phoned the heron people, who told her to leave it alone.  They said it is big enough and strong enough, that it will probably find sufficient mice and other food on the ground to survive until it is strong enough to fly.  

A crow was nearby, busy with its own agenda, but also noting my presence.

When I arrived home, I saw Ollie, my upstairs neighbor's cat, sitting on the balcony.

He was busy with his own agenda too, watching the action in the courtyard.  If you look closely, you can see a bike hanging from the balcony wall.  (Just to remind you that I haven't forgotten about the bike part of this blog.)
Black Jack and I went for yet another walk at Jericho.  There, we met some of the residents of our building.  Here is Vegas.  He is a working dog, used to posing for photos.  He had just  been for a swim, and was hanging out with his buddies...
... Pollo (on the left) and Castor.  They weren't as cooperative about posing.  There were much better things to do, but Pollo obliged with a half sit, and Castor agreed to sit, but let me know that looking at the camera was way too much to ask when there were so many more interesting things to do.
Pollo finally lay down, hoping to get the picture-taking stuff over quickly.  Castor let me know exactly how he was feeling about that camera.
We finally left them playing together with a huge stick, and continued on our way.  Black Jack had much the same attitude as Castor about the camera.  She agreed to sit, but could not tear her eyes away from the rabbit patch.
When we were just about ready to leave the park, we met a couple with their dog, Mickey.  We've met them before at Jericho, so it was rather like meeting up with old friends.  Then, as we stood talking, we saw a man with this beauty.  His name is Buster and he is 16 years old.  His human takes him every evening for at least an hour walk.  He walks free of leash, and is only picked up if he begins to tire.  I learned that he is a Maine Coone.  Now, I'm thinking Ollie is probably the same breed.  They are truly gorgeous, but can apparently have a few health problems.  Buster is fed to the best and is very, very much loved.  His human told me that he feels jealous of people whose pets are young.  At the same time, he noted how much he has learned from Buster's enthusiasm for life.  I remember that feeling when Scott was getting older.  Watching an older animal savor every moment is a life experience I wouldn't trade, but not one I want to revisit too soon.  I left the park, feeling fortunate and honored to have shared moments with humans who give their animals the best life has to offer.  

Part 2: Home again

Most of the pictures in this entry were taken shortly after I arrived home from Ottawa, but this first one was taken before I left.  Bill, Black Jack and I were walking in the neighborhood when these scooters caught Bill's eye, and then my imagination.  A couple perhaps?  Pink for her and aqua for him?  The bikes don't look new.  Something endearing about the way they sit, side by side, angled so perfectly in their one-car parking spot.

I think this must be Ned, of Jericho Park.  I was happy to see him, sitting in some trees near the pond.
It's a rare day that Black Jack and I don't visit Jericho at least once.  I take pictures of the same places over and over, but they always feel new to me.  At the front of this picture is a beaver dam that I have just noticed at the foot of the bridge.  About 8 years ago, my dog, Scott, and I watched a family of beavers for a couple of months, at a spot just a short distance away from this one by the bridge.  There were a lot of complaints about the trees being felled, and someone told me the beavers had been relocated.  But if they were, a new one has taken up residence.
This stump is still there to tell the tale of those beavers that Scott and I watched years ago.  I remember the tree, with a few bite marks, and then, each day, added ones, until the park staff had to cut it down because it was in danger of falling. 

Now, I notice that most of the trees are protected by wire netting.  Still the beavers seem to find enough material to build their dams.  I saw one beaver a few nights ago, but it disappeared before I could get a photo.  I keep hoping I'll see it again.  One lady told me she saw it swimming under the bridge with a branch in its mouth.  That would be something to see.

Just as we were coming to the end of our walk, we met a lady with a large black dog.  Black Jack and the dog checked each other out, and the lady began to speak to me, as though we had known each other for ever.  "Did you see that beautiful cloud? she asked. "If I tried to paint that, it would look fake." Then she led me to the spot where I could best view it, and I took a picture.  

On Monday, I stopped at Stanley Park on the way home from work, for a quick look to see if there were any changes at the heronry.  There was lots of clucking and squawking in the trees, but the foliage made photos and indentification difficult. 

I did see a racoon very high up in one tree.  They go looking for trouble (or at least it seems that way to me), although it's a bit surprising at this time in the season, as many of the babies are almost as big as their parents.
It was interesting to watch its downward route, first sliding, tummy facing  in...
...then dropping into the crook of the branches where it could stabilize...
... and turn around for the rest of the journey.
I left the heronry and biked along Beach Avenue, stopping for a moment to look at the seagulls playing in the wind..
... and take a photo of the flowers.  Interesting that those flower beds have been empty for quite some time.  Weeks ago, I took pictures of the gorgeous tulips, but they only lasted for a few days.  Shortly after that photo, I came along to see empty beds.  I love the flowers, but wonder at the expense and energy when they last such a short time.  Maybe something went wrong this year, or maybe that's the way it is supposed to be.    
Here is my shadow, taking a picture of the pond.  Bill's shadow is at my right, and if you look really, really closely, maybe you can tell that Black Jack is in his arms.  He cannot bear to pull on her neck, so when she goes after things like food in the grass...
... or rabbits...

... he usually picks her up.

I love the way she sits so comfortably and confidently in his arms.

I also loved the way these ducks were splashing, as they paddled furiously to get bottoms up.

I've taken pictures of the pink flowers in the pond before, but they continue to fascinate me.  They seem a bit like what we used to call lily pads when I was a kid.

Here's a close-up of one of them.

Bill stepped down to the pond's edge, hoping to figure out what was fascinating Black Jack so much, but the source of her interest remained a mystery.

When we came back to the courtyard of my apartment building, we saw a cat in the tree, and its human close by.  We were a little worried, until she explained that she had placed the cat there, and it was having a great time.
We learned that the cat's name is Toni, changed from "Tony" when she was neutered and discovered to be a female.  We also could see that she is well supervised, and were told that she is never left out after dark.
Toni was having the time of her life...
...and so was I, taking pictures of her.
I have photographed her before.  Black Jack often notices her when we walk by.  But this was the first time to see her in a tree.
She was gaining confidence by the second, and headed higher and higher.  Fortunately, the tree isn't a huge one.

We also learned that she comes when called, as some dogs do.  I wish Black Jack were as responsive.

What a happy cat.

I wondered when she eyed this thinner branch, but all was well, and she was at her usual perch on the ground the next morning.
I took the final two pictures of this post on another Jericho walk.  I know, if I were to look back over this blog, many of the pictures would appear almost, if not, identical.  Once, I read a blog by a fellow who promised himself he would take one crow picture every day for a year.  I've since tried to find that blog, but it seems to resist the google search.  Still, I remember it, and am comforted that even if they seem identical, each time I am moved to admire a bird, it is new for me.

Part 3: Away

Flying to Ottawa a week ago Thursday, I took pictures from the window.  I can't look at white, fluffy clouds below me, without thinking of my mother.  She loved to see them.

I spent the night at my sister's house in Ottawa, and the next day we drove to Gananoque for her daughter's wedding. It was at a beautiful bed and  breakfast called Sleepy Hollow.  Across the road was a park with a waterfall and two swans.
No people pictures, except for this hairdo.  All the hairdos, manicures and pedicures were done at a great little salon on the main street in Gananoque.  Lovely town, and right next door to the salon was a bakery and coffee shop.  I had fun sipping lattes and taking lots of pictures.  For some reason, I have never had a manicure or a pedicure.  I seem to be missing that "get together with the girls" gene, but loved being a part of the conversations, laughter and warmth.
The wedding was in the garden at the back of the bed and breakfast.  My sister's husband comes from a family of musicians.  His mother is no longer living, but she started a family band that continues today.  One tenor sax, one electric bass, a keyboard, voices that went straight to the heart, and love songs that have stood the test of time blended with bird sounds.  The saxophone case caught my eye.  So much history there.

The garden had a little pond, and a family of chipmunks that I was never able to catch in a photograph.

The lady who ran the bed and breakfast kindly showed me the chipmunk's home, an easy to miss little hole in the ground.  I waited there for quite some time, but no luck with a photo, although I had several fly-by scampers that tantalized me.   
Lots of goldfish in the pond, and a frog to watch over them.
There were a few insects around as well.
Going home was a bit rougher ride.  I could see storm clouds brewing as I waited at Ottawa airport.  By the time we were in the air, they were looking magnificent.  

We seemed to be flying away from them, and into blue sky.  I don't usually like to say negative things on this blog, but my experiences with Air Canada have been terrible.  Westjet, on the other hand, has always treated me well.
More white, fluffy clouds and a lot of thinking about my mother.  
Flying over the Rockies was spectacular.

There were three take-off/landings on the way home,with two stops, one in Winnipeg and one in Edmonton, both in very windy conditions.  Years ago, I used to go with a friend in a small plane, even accompanying him for practice sessions when he was working on his stunt flying license.  That always seemed like great fun, but flying in jets usually makes me a bit nervous.  Strangely, taking pictures took away that fear.    Still, landing in Vancouver, the place that has become home for me, felt good.
Fascinating, how many mechanical parts are needed, just to operate the wing flaps.  Flying will always be something of a miracle for me.      
The weekend was one that will stay with me for a very long time.  I saw a little bit of the world from what I like to think was at least partly a bird's perspective, but most importantly, I had the opportunity to connect with my sister and her family and friends.  Her daughter and son are honest, fun-loving, kind human beings, and although I knew that, there's nothing like observing those qualities in person.