wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.


42 Comments

The Calm

… before the storm.

The ducks all facing outward

Are waiting for their snack,

They find it in the shallows,

It makes their lips go smack.

 

The heron facing inward,

Has patience yet to spare,

He hopes to spear a morsel,

With no intent to share.

 

All take advantage of the last,

Relaxing stretch of peace,

They feel the system moving fast,

Soon comes the ugly beast.

 

Photo by Pat G.

The licorice scent of fennel wafts,

Along the last warm breeze,

A thousand seeds fly in the drafts,

To inundate with ease.

Ms. Barbara Beacham’s hollyhock,

Has found a home with me,

Although Ms. Beacham’s sent a shock,

And could no longer be.

 

Her lovely flowers bloom each year,

She sends her love that way,

I cherish her with thoughts so dear,

Much more than I can say.

A last sweet effort quickly made,

The berry patch is done,

No strawberries are left to raid,

Except for just this one.

And here it comes, the mighty beast,

So dark, this sunshine thief,

It brings much-needed rain at least,

To every plant’s relief.

It slaps the trees ferociously,

It whips the leaves around,

But they hang on tenaciously,

On hearing such a sound.

The wind is shivery at best,

Each leaf is hanging on,

They’re hoping to survive the test,

Until this breeze is gone.


33 Comments

Great Blue Heron

Blue herons don’t have a dark patch on their shoulders, but this one does. I think something (like an eagle) tried to grab him and he got away. Not unscathed, but he’s alive.

I once saw a heron circle around and around, going higher and higher, until he was nearly out of my sight. In the airspace below him, an eagle was doing his best to climb higher as well, to get at the heron. I think herons must have lighter bones and probably a lighter body in proportion to the wings. They can outdistance eagles  and stay very high up in the air until the danger has passed.

I suspect that this one was caught napping and was attacked at ground level. Somehow he managed to escape the eagle’s clutches, and he lived to tell about it.


23 Comments

Under the Double Eagle

I was looking for a glimpse of a great blue heron who once visited this marshy area. This is him about three years ago.

No luck. Just a lot of bullrushes and mist.

Two eagles about half a mile away, reminded me of a poster I saw in the 70s, of two vultures sitting in a snag, looking down at the ground, waiting for something to die.

The caption said, “Patience, my ass! I’m gonna kill something.”

But they were definitely eagles, not vultures.¬† I zoomed in and tried for a shot but it was really far away. Still, I could see that the smaller one was a mature bird while the bigger one was not. They don’t generally get the white feathers on their head until they are in their fifth year. Since the female birds are usually larger than the males, I thought this might be a case of a father and daughter having a conversation.

 

My daughter you’re a big girl now,

No boyfriends will I yet allow,

But soon you will be old enough,

Make sure the man you choose is tough.

 

The world out there can be quite harsh,

But keep your eyes upon that marsh,

A crippled bird might try to hide

Behind the rushes at the side.

 

Be careful when you swoop to kill,

Stay safe so you can eat your fill,

Don’t let the rushes tangle you

And hurt your wings, or that you’ll rue.

 

I see the heron stalking frogs,

Just at the back behind the logs.

When you fly down he’ll get a scare

And hurry to get out of there.

 

He knows that we could tear him up,

And then on heron we could sup,

But he’s a watchful kind of guy,

And he can soar up very high.

 

A heron circles in the sky

Much higher than we eagles fly,

Except for that, he’d be our meal,

You must forget him, no big deal.

 

For now we’ll take the sickly duck

That’s hiding in that swampy muck,

And we’ll be doing him a favour

As we both enjoy his flavour.