|Man with golden feather, Balboa Park|
I wish I could summon the requisite concentration to crystallize but I fear that you are going get dished a bit more of the stream of consciousness angle for a while longer. Late onset A.D.D. no doubt.
It might help to visualize the blog as an ugly abstract post modern painting given to you by your crazy aunt, the one that you always hated until you found out it was worth real money. Things grow on you somehow.
I had this thought. Boy, I bet some of them are sick of birds. Man, I have posted a lot of bird shots this year. One or two months more walking, fledging, flying and we will be done for the year. Promise. Soon as these kids grow up. No mas.
I approached the nest yesterday afternoon and mother was about 16 feet away, sort of hiding in the side branches.
These kids are getting big and very active, lots of mantling and posing, full wing extensions. No wonder she wants to stay clear, these kids could destroy some furniture.
A blur at times.
Every day the juvenile red tailed hawks are getting more mature. Will be any day before they arise into the blue yonder. Hope that I am around.
Pretty side view, sort of a Fabian, Frankie Avalon coiffure, comb forward but it works somehow on these birds. At least they are out of that dreadful mullet stage.
Ripped it apart like a cheap steak at a Shriner's Convention.
Setting sun, late afternoon, very dark.