Tag Archives: domestic swan goose (Anser cygnoides)

The magic hour

With the sun already slipping below the horizon, I packed up my gear and headed out the door for the minute or so walk to the lake.  By the time I reached Sunset Bay, all but the last vestiges of sunlight had vanished and what little remained offered nothing more than the soft, warm glow of a distant fire reflected in the clouds.

Yet something magical happens at dusk, at that time after sunset but before darkness settles in completely, those precious and scarce moments when the world seems torn asunder with night full to the east and day grasping at its final seconds to the west.

The orange embers of day faded quickly as I approached the shore.  A chill settled over the land, a quick cutting of the air that seemed hurried to reclaim from daylight all that it could touch, so I pulled my jacket a bit tighter about me.

Cool winds slid over the water and rushed ashore.  The bay offered no protection.

I considered turning back, going home.  What possible opportunities rested in dark times?

Then an armada of shadows came near such that I felt I could reach out and grasp their lightless forms.

A covert of American coots (Fulica americana) swimming near shore (2009_02_13_008288)

At first I believed them to be alike, creatures of one form forever clad in the dark armor of dusk, yet my feeble human eyes grew accustomed to failing light and with that newfound strength, I began to see a menagerie of ghostly figures.

Some danced in pools of reflection that captured day’s end and sent it back heavenward in ripples of color.  Some took flight on ethereal wings and floated effortlessly on air.  Some walked the earth with the likeness of corporeal substance.

A rock dove (a.k.a. common pigeon; Columba livia) walking toward me (2009_02_13_008300)

All shapes and colors materialized, wisps of smoke manifest in fleshly forms, whispers from the dark only dreams could create.

How soon I realized the bewitched armies of dusk were on the move.  Battalions and regiments and squadrons and fleets took shape from what moments before had been the empty evening.  And finally the horn players appeared and sounded the trumpets of advance.  The march had begun.

A brown domestic swan goose (a.k.a. Chinese goose or African goose; Anser cygnoides) floating just offshore (2009_02_13_008307)

Up from the depths and out of the sky came hordes of spirits in guises both familiar and alien.  Whether from the cold or fear, I could not escape the tremble whose skeletal fingers ran down my spine, the specter of death in the face of such monstrous beauty as took shape before me.

Cloaked in white save the crimson of her face, the high priestess of this gathering flitted upon the breeze to a station nearby where she glowed as though capturing all light and bringing it unto herself.  All around her dimmed in her presence.

A white female Muscovy duck (Cairina moschata) standing quietly (2009_02_13_008462)

Then the sky became one with the lake, a powerful act she wished into being without the slightest gesture, and upon the water’s surface the heavens fell.  What hues!  What patterns!

The magic she wielded summoned yet more demons, yet more powerful beings, yet more fantastic works of the gods.  And where the elements beckoned to her call and became one, the waters parted for the royal court who would this night stand before the armies of dusk and bow to the god and goddess of royalty.

A female lesser scaup (Aythya affinis) swimming in the shallows (2009_02_13_008503)

A hush seemed to fall.  I found myself holding my breath and wondering.  Would I survive this encounter with those of this other world, this place betwixt the realm of light and the realm of dark?  What hides such power from the witnesses of life?  What was yet to come?

Even then they arrived, the royal guards whose voices chase away devils and whose approach sends challengers fleeing.  With them they ushered in the last inhalation of the hour, and then they exhaled the mystic thought that chased the day away.  And the light hurried over the horizon.

A ring-billed gull (Larus delawarensis) enjoying the sunset (2009_02_13_008419)

Then they came.  I tried not to look, tried not to meet their gaze.  My attempts were futile.  My humble soul could not refuse the deities who slipped between worlds and ruled the dusk.

First the god-queen who herself was made of light and shadow and all that exists in between.  She floated from place to place, a body in the guise of spirits and a soul in the guise of flesh, and she took her place where land and sea and air joined as one.

A female wood duck (Aix sponsa) paddling slowly close to land (2009_02_13_008560)

In her eyes I found eternity, the burning depths of the universe filled with stars and conquest, her reach forever and her will undeniable.  Yet even she knew subservience.  I saw a goddess bow her head, and in that instant I revered what was to come.

And finally, the god-king.  Eyes of crimson rage and fiery passion, cloaked with colors no being could imagine, the order of all that is became apparent while in the presence of such power.  He seemed to draw strength from the worship that flooded over him, from the absolute knowledge of all those gathered that he was the first and would be the last, that he breathed life into the cosmos for his own entertainment, that he demanded unwavering trust and unflinching allegiance.  The sanctity of the encounter grew as I realized trepidation followed heartfelt devotion: this shadow cast felt such ardor for their gods, such deference.  They would follow them unto the end of time and would sacrifice their lives for them.

A male wood duck (Aix sponsa) drifting in the lake with full breeding plumage on display (2009_02_13_008554)

Only the hour that is neither day nor night could contain such magic.  Only dusk could give stage to beings such as these.

I watched as they marched onward, a legion vast before which all fell, a countless army of shadows before which a wave of triumph washed over the land and brushed aside all challengers.  I watched as the god-queen and god-king empowered the innumerable to unstoppable success; they vanquished all who stood in their way.

Then the last drop of light fell into the cupped hands of the world.  Nightfall…

I shook myself lose from the imaginings that had filled my mind.  I still wanted to take pictures.

Ah, but the day had ended, dusk had been eclipsed by dark, and I stood at the shore of Sunset Bay where I had begun my walk.  I hadn’t even lifted the camera from my side.  I felt there was no sense in trying after night enveloped the area.  I turned and walked home.

Only the next day would I discover the memory card full of pictures I never took, of creatures I never saw, of encounters I never had.  Only the next day would I again wonder about the armies of dusk.  Only the next day would I ponder an encounter with gods made of shadow and light, of armies before which light itself would retreat.  Only the next day would I wonder…

— — — — — — — — — —

Photos:

[1] A covert of American coots (Fulica americana) swimming near shore.

[2] A rock dove (a.k.a. common pigeon; Columba livia) walking toward me.

[3] A brown domestic swan goose (a.k.a. Chinese goose or African goose; Anser cygnoides) floating just offshore.

[4] A white female Muscovy duck (Cairina moschata) standing quietly.

[5] A female lesser scaup (Aythya affinis) swimming in the shallows.

[6] A ring-billed gull (Larus delawarensis) enjoying the sunset.

[7] A female wood duck (Aix sponsa) paddling slowly close to land.

[8] A male wood duck (Aix sponsa) drifting in the lake with full breeding plumage on display.

Reflections

Loss becomes the world, the empty gallows within which so many find themselves hanged, and into that shadowy world plethoras soon will fall—if they haven’t by now.

A male northern pintail duck (Anas acuta) floating on rippled water (20081025_14075)

Our species rejuvenates itself upon the suffering of others, the wishful thinking of extinction that we will upon those we call alien, different, unwelcome.

A male swan goose (Anser cygnoides) swimming toward shore (20081101_14169)

What fiends we humans are; what devilish behemoths we pride ourselves in being as we wish unforgivable suffering upon others while continuing our assault on the world at large.  We take and we steal, and all the while we pride ourselves for the anguish we visit upon others because—let’s be honest—the invader is not us, is not we ourselves, but it is some other thing, some other hate-filled monster that we can all revile.

House sparrow?  Check!  But let’s ignore the fact that the house sparrow is doing what nature made it to do, and it’s only sin is to take advantage of the opportunity we humans have given it by way of introducing the species to alien places both far and wide.

European starling?  Check!  In honor of Shakespeare’s writings we deluged the world with this creature, but now we hate it, wish upon it all manner of death even unto the suffering of the world, and we pretend we ourselves have no hand in its fate, have no responsibility for its presence in the places we call dear and sacred.  Damned be the starling!  And let’s pretend we are not to blame for extinctions the starling never could imagine, let alone accomplish.

Shall I go on?

A male mallard duck (Anas platyrhynchos) floating near shore (20081127_14926)

Whatever life reflects for us to see, our innate desire to be better than all else blinds us to that truth, and we are left wanting, desiring for the end of that we deem lacking.  We are better, we think, and we visit upon so many others a profound hate that witchery could never challenge our desire for death.  And upon the valley of destruction that we ourselves wrought, nothing exempts us from this belief: We are not to blame for the horrors we visit upon this planet; we are not responsible for nature’s response to our invasion; and we are not accountable for the ends we visit on all others, especially those whom we proclaim as invasive even as we destroy wantonly and blindly.

A male lesser scaup (Aythya affinis) floating near shore (20081127_14963)

I see my own reflection and find it repulsive.  The weight of my forefathers ends for me the will of passion made manifest for Nature’s children, my kith and kin both past and present opening old wounds too long ignored by the brethren of my species.

We hate.  Such is the nature of our kind.

We defile.  Such is the nature of our kind, yet we pretend the fault lies with others.

We destroy.  Such is the nature of our kind even as we ignore our participation in the destruction of our world, even as we hope no one will notice the dichotomy of our petty disgust cast upon the very creatures we claim to adore.

We are the opposite of our reflections: We see in ourselves the best of what the universe hates most.  We claim pride in what humans destroy, calling ourselves protectors of the natural world even as we visit upon it the most dastardly stewardship.

Blame others.  That is what we do best.

Take responsibility?  Never!  For no evil can possibly be the cause of our actions…  Right?

— — — — — — — — — —

Photos:

[1] A male northern pintail duck (Anas acuta).

[2] A male domestic swan goose (Anser cygnoides), probably Chinese.

[3] A male mallard duck (Anas platyrhynchos).

[4] A male lesser scaup (Aythya affinis).

Exotic isn’t necessary

I don’t always know what I will see, let alone photograph, when I go for walks.  Although the rare occasion pops up when I set out on a quest to find a particular something or other, mostly I let my body and eyes wander aimlessly so I don’t miss the artwork of the mundane.  Well, that’s assuming any of nature’s handiwork can be called mundane.

Something in the ordinary, the usual, too often goes unnoticed.  “Oh, it’s just a duck.”  “Sparrows?  How boring.”  “We don’t see autumn foliage in Texas like you see up north, you know.  Down here it just goes from green to dead in a few days.”  The list goes on.

Truth be told, so much beauty rests unappreciated in what too many call pedestrian.  If only they’d look closer.

Domerstic swan geese (Anser cygnoides) and domestic greylag geese (Anser anser) paddling about a local creek (20081025_14134)

I myself sometimes fail to notice what should be seen yet passes right before my eyes with nary a glance.  And shame on me for that!

Even a gaggle of our local domestic geese deserves more than apathy.  They bring verve and vigor to the lake, their loud voices ringing across the water’s surface and echoing in defiance of the woodlands.  Would that I could gift them for the splendor they bring to my life.

A pekin duck (a.k.a. domestic duck, white pekin duck, or Long Island duck; Anas domesticus) taking a bath (20081101_14213)

Of all the ducks in all the world, White Rock Lake boasts a year-round population of many species, not the least of which can be found bathing in early morning light in the shallows of Sunset Bay.  I stand upon the pier which beckons to me all too often, and there I see a familiar vision which even to me seems nothing short of routine.

But then I look closer, look with eyes intent on devouring the majestic hidden within the unexciting.  Even as I look on, snap photos, appreciate, others glance here and there, perhaps mentioning the water thrown this way and that by a simple white duck, and finally seek more exciting fare.

And I wonder what might be more exciting than this…

Rock doves (a.k.a. common pigeon; Columba livia) perched on the juts of a pier (20081101_14249)

The common pigeon.  They draw their beauty from their forefathers, the rock doves, the progenitors of all pigeons, and they carry to this day an iridescent beauty and unmistakable aura that rarely is as admired as it should be.

I sat upon my favorite pier and let these birds join me, along with dozens of their friends.  Some allowed me to touch them, others allowed me to serve as a perch, and yet more scampered about me as though I didn’t exist, ducking beneath my legs, walking over my hands, standing next to my arms.  Almost an hour burned away in the autumn sun as we enjoyed the morning together.

A male house sparrow (Passer domesticus) clinging to the branch of a shrub (20081020_13882)

Rested upon a branch within a shrub so near that I might reach out and touch him, this male house sparrow accepted my presence, my invasive spirit as I poked my camera in his face, and he never budged for all my commotion.

What a ubiquitous marvel he is.  What a common artwork he proffers to those willing to notice.

American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) and American coots (Fulica americana) preening on a sandbar (20081101_14233)

Pelicans and coots preen upon the desolate sandbar jutting across the bay.  Busy with their grooming, they fail to notice the autumnal canvas nature paints behind them upon what was just a few weeks ago a lush, verdant, green landscape.

I bear witness to the changing of the seasons, to the changing of the guard.  Like these birds, I feel the warmth of a cool day whilst enjoying a potent magic offered up for our enjoyment.  I notice the magnificent display, however, much unlike my avian counterparts.

Golden autumnal foliage sheltering an uphill path at White Rock Lake. (20081101_14476)

Golden canopies stretch endlessly as they mix with reds and browns and greens and hues untold.  Simple yellows, some claim, although they fail to see the truth of the moment.

The trail leading up the hill toward my home snakes its way beneath a sky contrasted by trees intent on showing their autumnal best.  I scarcely knew a moment of peace as I walked this path.  Sunlight falling against and through the gorgeous arms of life succumbing to seasonal sleep brushed upon the bones of the world a gorgeous shelter of color, a shelter beneath which I lost myself.

I’m left feeling satisfied and bewildered all at once.  The everyday can be so exquisite, so delightful.  It can also be terribly ignored.

I wonder why…

— — — — — — — — — —

Photos:

[1] Domestic swan geese (Anser cygnoides) and domestic greylag geese (Anser anser) paddling about a local creek.

[2] A pekin duck (a.k.a. domestic duck, white pekin duck, or Long Island duck; Anas domesticus) taking a bath.

[3] Rock doves (a.k.a. common pigeon; Columba livia) perched on the juts of a pier.

[4] A male house sparrow (Passer domesticus) clinging to the branch of a shrub.

[5] American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) and American coots (Fulica americana) preening on a sandbar.

[6] Golden autumnal foliage sheltering an uphill path at White Rock Lake.

Faces that we meet and pass

A Monk parakeet (a.k.a. quaker parrot; Myiopsitta monachus) walking through the grass (20080713_09580)

Monk parakeet (a.k.a. quaker parrot; Myiopsitta monachus)

“Is he taking pictures of the grass?”

“Looks like it.”

“How weird.”

They didn’t notice the parakeet rummaging about the ground beneath a shade tree.  All they noticed was that I stood there taking photos of something they failed to see.

Close-up of a male green anole (Anolis carolinensis) as he challenges me with a full fan display (20080702_08942)

Male green anole (Anolis carolinensis)

“Dude, are you taking pictures of your patio fence?”

“No.  There’s a lizard standing here challenging me.  I thought I might snap a few pictures.”

He looks at the reptile before returning his gaze to me and saying, “Just a lizard?”

“Yes.”

He sees just a lizard, just a small, insignificant life that offers nothing for his world.

I see a master of his territory, a predator controlling the local insect population, a marvelous creature with the climbing ability of a gecko and a color-changing ability superior to that of a chameleon.  I see a grand living thing.

Close-up of a female eastern pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis) as she perches on a stem (20080712_09324)

Female eastern pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis)

“What are you taking pictures of?”

“Everything.  Birds, trees, flowers, lizards, insects—”

“Oh, cool.  Seen any interesting bugs?”

“There were some beautiful dragonflies around the marsh back there.”

“Really?  We must have missed them.”

They missed a plethora of life, so many insects filling the air and foliage that I found it impossible to count them.  All they noticed was the man taking photos as he walked the edge of the marsh and woodlands.

Close-up of Elvis, a male muscovy duck (Cairina moschata), as he watches me take pictures (20080701_08879)

Male muscovy duck (Cairina moschata)

“Wait, Mom.  I wanna take a picture of the ducks.”

“They’re always here, sweetheart.  Let’s look for something more interesting for you photograph.”

Her daughter noticed, noticed how uncommon the common can be, how beautiful nature is in all its forms even when we see it day after day.

I noticed, especially when Elvis walked right up to me to see what I was doing kneeling in the grass.  He and I have developed a bond of trust such that he’ll come to me to investigate and will gladly stand next to me in case I have something to offer.  He knows I won’t hurt him.  And he knows I never ignore him.

A male swan goose (Anser cygnoides) sleeping in the grass

Male swan goose (Anser cygnoides)

They climb out of their car and walk directly to where the swan geese are sleeping and preening.

The father lets his two small children chase the animals, each screaming in joy as the birds honk and flap their wings as they run.

I worry as there are goslings mixed in with the crowd.

I hope one of the parents beats up your brats, I think to myself.

Then I watch as a large male knocks over the young boy and bites at him before fleeing in the opposite direction.  The child screams in shock or pain, or both, and I laugh to myself.

They don’t notice the beauty of these creatures.  Both children and their father see nothing more than entertainment, creatures to be chased and abused to satisfy a need to be cruel, to be hateful.

Close-up of a great egret (Ardea alba) (20080628_08248)

Great egret (Ardea alba)

A dog rushes headlong toward ducks lounging in the shade at the lake’s edge.  The owner stands by and does nothing.

Wings flap and flutter as panic strikes the group.  They all retreat toward the water as they take flight.

The reeds next to the flocking birds hides something else, something besides the water lapping at the shore.

Frightened by the commotion and the rushing canine, an egret takes flight, limping as it struggles into the air.  Its leg is hurt such that it might be broken.

The dog cares little for such things and its owner even less.  They don’t notice the pain, the limp, or even the unnecessary stress their antics place on these animals.

But I notice.  I shake my head with evident disgust before walking away.  I ignore the dog’s owner as he heaves primitive insults at me for my obvious disapproval.

Close-up of a male cicada-killer wasp (Sphecius speciosus) as he perches on a leaf (20080621_07182)

Male cicada-killer wasp (Sphecius speciosus)

“I was at the pool yesterday, and there are some really big bees over there by the bridge.”

“You mean the cicada killers?”

I already feel good that he knows what they are.

He continues, “The big wasps, you mean?”

“I guess so,” she replies.

“They’re harmless.  They won’t hurt you.  All they do is kill cicadas.”

By the look on her face, I doubt she believes him.

His response is so calm, so understanding, that I realize he has no intention of doing anything about the second wasp colony a block away from where I live.  He knows they pose no threat, knows they only live for a few months.

I feel a great sense of relief and pride that he notices them, understands them, and has no intention of interfering with their short lives.

The first walk (Part I)

My new camera arrived in late December 2007.  Because my naiveté with its functionality meant the date had not even been set correctly, I can’t truthfully say when I first held this splendid piece of magic in my grimy paws, nor can I tell you the actual date these photos were taken (as the EXIF date is incorrect, although it’s only off by 12-24 hours from what I remember).

Nevertheless, I can tell you this: Perhaps taken Christmas Eve or the day before, perhaps taken Christmas Day even, these images represent my new Canon S5 IS’s initial performance at White Rock Lake, its debut as my photographic companion at the urban oasis I love.

So welcome to the first walk, to be presented in parts since there’s lots to see.

Two American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) and a double-crested cormorant (Phalacrocorax auritus) perched on a submerged branch and preening in morning sunlight (IMG_0091)

Two American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos)
and a double-crested cormorant (Phalacrocorax auritus)
perched on a submerged branch and preening in morning sunlight.

A broad view of White Rock Lake from Sunset Bay (IMG_0092)

Taken immediately after the previous photo, I zoomed out to give some
perspective on where I stood when I snapped that picture.  This is
facing west from Sunset Bay.  You can see my shadow in the lower-
right corner of the image, and the pelicans and cormorant can be seen
just right of center.

A pair of juvenile ring-billed gulls (Larus delawarensis) standing on a submerged tree stump (IMG_0111)

A pair of juvenile ring-billed gulls (Larus delawarensis) standing on a
submerged tree stump, sometimes preening, sometimes looking around
as though trying to determine what to do with their morning.

The confluence in Sunset Bay crowded with teeming waterfowl, from an American white pelican (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) to American coots (Fulica americana) to brown and white Chinese geese (a.k.a. swan geese; Anser cygnoides) (IMG_0127)

The confluence in Sunset Bay crowded with teeming waterfowl, from
an American white pelican (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) to American coots
(Fulica americana) to brown and white Chinese geese (a.k.a. swan
geese; Anser cygnoides).

A covert of American coots (Fulica americana) milling about in the shallows near the shore of Sunset Bay (IMG_0139)

A covert of American coots (Fulica americana) milling about in the shallows
near shore, some eating, some preening, some wandering aimlessly.

A veritable flotilla of ducks swimming upstream from the lake, including two male, one female, and one unidentified pekin ducks (a.k.a. domestic ducks, white pekin ducks, or Long Island ducks; Anas domesticus), a male mallard (Anas platyrhynchos), two male Indian runners (Anas platyrhynchos), and a male crested Indian runner (Anas platyrhynchos) (IMG_0149)

A veritable flotilla of ducks swimming upstream from the lake, including
two male, one female, and one unidentified pekin ducks (a.k.a. domestic
ducks, white pekin ducks, or Long Island ducks; Anas domesticus), a male
mallard (Anas platyrhynchos), two male Indian runners (Anas platyrhynchos),
and a male crested Indian runner (Anas platyrhynchos).

That’s it for now, but there’s more to come in future installments.

Allow me to finish with this:

It took me years to realize my Canon PowerShot S50 had a macro setting, let alone what that could do for me.  It took me years to develop any level of proficiency with that piece of equipment, my first digital camera.  It took me years to feel comfortable with it, to feel confident with changing the settings to fit the conditions.  It took me years to start taking respectable images.

My sincere hope now is that it won’t take me years with the S5 IS.  I love photography.  Something about capturing the moment as I see it means a great deal to me, whether the pictures are just for me or for public consumption.  My newest camera, although certainly not a professional piece of equipment, offers tremendous power and advantage when compared to its predecessor.  I’m trying to learn its ins and outs as quickly as possible.  Considering these photos were taken the first day I had it, I hope I’m making more rapid progress than I did before.

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