Tag Archives: American coot (Fulica americana)

Among the missing

The words are forgotten, lost in a drive just three hours long, misplaced somewhere along 170 miles/270 kilometers of road.  Ancient names known for a city lifetime of decades, now the words hide behind months of rural living.  How familiar they were, how missing they have become.

A rock dove (a.k.a. common pigeon; Columba livia) standing on a sunny pier (2008_12_27_003660)

My lips tremble when I try to speak them.  It is as if I ask them to verbalize an unfamiliar language, phrases borne of another land, yet I ask only that they remember the words that go with the mind’s pictures, the names once common but now rare.

A fox squirrel (a.k.a. eastern fox squirrel, stump-eared squirrel, raccoon squirrel or monkey-faced squirrel; Sciurus niger) lying atop a tree trunk (2009_02_02_005789)

Dropped into memory’s abyssal hat and plucked out one by one, I read from the mental slips of paper names of the absent, of the once ubiquitous, of those long called neighbors.  What alien text is this?  From what removed existence come these unremembered names?

A male house sparrow (Passer domesticus) perched on a limb (2009_02_21_010424)

When a few short weeks ago I journeyed back those three hours, back that long distance, unbidden the words came back to me, names once more as comfortable as the threadbare sweater worn each winter for its personal value rather than its fashion statement.  I knew each name that matched each face, knew the words too quickly lost.

A male red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) perched in a tree (2009_03_21_013137)

Yet back to my new world I had to return, and again the names hide among the missing, the faces lonely for the words that call them, the world outside my door barren for their absence yet abundant for their replacements.

An American coot (Fulica americana) swimming toward shore (2009_03_21_013166)

For they have indeed been replaced, the once familiar now forgotten, their collective presence full of new words, words like Texas coral snake, Inca dove, southern black widow, eastern bluebird, white-tailed deer, northern rough-winged swallow, flying squirrel, alligator, cougar, fish crow and black bear, along with many others.  How delightful these new words, how appealing the newfound familiarity of such names.

A male superb cicada (a.k.a. green harvestfly, green cicada or superb green cicada; Tibicen superba) clinging to the side of a tree (2009_07_06_026143)

Nevertheless I miss the old words, the old names, those now among the missing.  In another lifetime they shared my life, found each day right outside my door.  But now they only live in other places, not here, not with me, though near me, short drives away, or once more rediscovered at the end of that three hour journey, at the destination resting 170 miles/270 kilometers away.

Still, now I shall stutter the gibberish that goes with each mental picture, shall feel the unfamiliar words stumble upon my lips, shall pluck the words from memory’s deep hat with hope I shall remember those who remain among the missing.

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Photos:

  1. Rock dove (a.k.a. common pigeon; Columba livia)
  2. Fox squirrel (a.k.a. eastern fox squirrel, stump-eared squirrel, raccoon squirrel or monkey-faced squirrel; Sciurus niger)
  3. Male house sparrow (Passer domesticus)
  4. Male red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus)
  5. American coot (Fulica americana)
  6. Male superb cicada (a.k.a. green harvestfly, green cicada or superb green cicada; Tibicen superba)

Scooting right along

An American coot (Fulica americana) walking along a creek bank (2010_03_06_050379)

It’s not always easy letting go, to keep life moving, to keep scooting right along, but sometimes we can find something to help.  For me, at least for the past many months, that’s been books.

I’ve been on a real literary tear, in point of fact, reading at least one book each day for about three months.  (Though I admit it took me two days to get through Stephen King’s Under the Dome with its 1000+ pages.)  Usually I read three or four books a week, give or take depending on length and content, but lately it’s been like drinking heavily, only in this case drinking from words, not bottles.

And while I won’t delve into it here since I want to spend more quality time putting into words what I think, I do know consuming some 90-odd books in less than three months has done many things, not the least of which has been to rekindle my writing passion, but also to help me see that I truly despise certain kinds of literary devices that some authors use.  (Let me add that calling some of these “literary devices” is being overly generous.)

But let’s not get bogged down in details right now.  Let’s save that for later, shall we?

For now, since silence becomes exponentially more difficult to break the longer it goes on, I figured I’d post something to say life’s going on and I’ve been occupied in the now too-often-ignored offline world.

That’s right, I’m scooting right along, albeit quietly.

Now back to another book.  Maybe you should try it, stepping away from the internet, I mean, so you can remember what it feels like to have sunshine on your face, the touch of type and paper beneath your fingers, the only images those your mind creates from the words you consume.  It’s quite rewarding if you’ve forgotten what it feels like.

A rock dove (a.k.a. common pigeon; Columba livia) walking by (2009_03_07_011976)

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Photos:

  1. American coot (Fulica americana)
  2. Rock dove (a.k.a. common pigeon; Columba livia)

A few of my favorite things #5

Birds in the water.  Beauty can be found in any environment, yes, but water has such dynamic personality.  And its ability to reflect that which resides above it makes it all the more majestic as a backdrop, an in situ mirror that adds more than a touch of real or abstract flavor.

Yet my fascination runs deeper than the water.  I believe it has something to do with creatures with wings who soar on the wind that in turn spend so much time in the water, so much so that evolution has granted them webbed feet, spatulate bills, long legs and liquid-straining pouches.  What a marvelous dichotomy…

Snowy egret (Egretta thula) wading in the shallows (2009_09_27_029522)

Snowy egret (Egretta thula)

American coot (Fulica americana) swimming by me (2010_03_06_050437)

American coot (Fulica americana)

Pied-billed grebe (Podilymbus podiceps) swimming away from me (2009_11_01_036416)

Pied-billed grebe (Podilymbus podiceps)

Ring-billed gull (Larus delawarensis) swimming by me (2010_03_06_050489)

Ring-billed gull (Larus delawarensis)

American white pelican (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) swimming toward me (2009_10_25_033970)

American white pelican (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos)

Male lesser scaup (Aythya affinis) floating in the water (2010_03_06_050444)

Lesser scaup (Aythya affinis)

Great blue heron (Ardea herodias) wading into a creek (2009_09_05_028695)

Great blue heron (Ardea herodias)

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On a related note: The only nesters at the rookery at present are great egrets (Ardea alba).  But the time is now for the multitude of other bird species to arrive at this marvel that rests in the heart of the city.  The second major species has already made an appearance: anhingas (a.k.a. water turkey or snakebird; Anhinga anhinga).  I can’t wait to share this magic with you.  What a spectacle, what a mystery, and what a gift!

Sunset Bay – Part 2

Your sunset is not like my sunset, and I can’t explain my sunset to you no matter how much I describe it.  Words become feeble in such vain attempts.

A female Muscovy duck (Cairina moschata) foraging on shore at sunset (2009_02_18_010153)

Your eyes taste the universe differently than my eyes: they see the fragrances and smell the light from places I have never traveled.

Three great egrets (Ardea alba) wading through the confluence as mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos) swim in the background (2009_02_18_010168)

As a star falls below the horizon, the smile I envision might to you be a frown, although both are expressions of the same magic drawn upon canvases made of separate thoughts.

A great blue heron (Ardea herodias) in silhouette as various ducks swim about (2009_02_18_010188)

Shadows grow long in my sunsets, silhouettes pulled toward darkness that turn even the smallest life into a giant, and true giants become leviathans unimagined.

American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) line the sandbar at sunset while a plethora of waterfowl swim in the bay (2009_02_18_010197)

The sky burns with day’s waning embers, a horizon filled with flames unseen, palpable art untouched yet touching.  Or perhaps you see a setting sun hidden by earth until its light becomes a memory of what was.

A great egret (Ardea alba) and a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) stand amongst swimming mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos) (2009_02_18_010205)

And reflected upon sky held by water becomes the hues of what is indescribable, for how can any life put words to that which only one at a time may know?

Five great egrets (Ardea alba), a great blue heron (Ardea herodias), various ducks and gulls, American coots (Fulica americana) and an American white pelican (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) facing sunset with urban Dallas towering in the background (2009_02_18_010207)

Even when I stood in awe of the vision, others passed by seeing that which I did not see, and not seeing that which I did see.

American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) demarcating the safety of the bay against sunset (2009_02_18_010212)

Finally the last sparks of daylight flitted into the heavens.  Behemoths made of white wings held the line betwixt that which was and that which was to come.  Others might say they simply prepared for nightfall…because they see things differently.

A great egret (Ardea alba) marching through the shallows with mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos) swimming about and American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) nestled in the background (2009_02_18_010217)

Your sunset is not like my sunset, and I can’t explain my sunset to you no matter how much I describe it.

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Photos:

[1] A female Muscovy duck (Cairina moschata) foraging on shore.

[2] Three great egrets (Ardea alba) wading through the confluence as mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos) swim in the background.

[3] A great blue heron (Ardea herodias) in silhouette as various ducks swim about.

[4] American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) line the sandbar at sunset while a plethora of waterfowl swim in the bay.

[5] A great egret (Ardea alba) and a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) stand amongst swimming mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos).

[6] Five great egrets (Ardea alba), a great blue heron (Ardea herodias), various ducks and gulls, American coots (Fulica americana) and an American white pelican (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) facing sunset with urban Dallas towering in the background.

[7] American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) demarcating the safety of the bay against sunset.

[8] A great egret (Ardea alba) marching through the shallows with mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos) swimming about and American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) nestled in the background.