Last year was a bitch for San Francisco’s Peregrine parents. None of their three fledglings survived life in the city.
59 Minutes with the Raynox
That means 59 minutes of lunch hour when I could have been eating, drinking, working, napping but was instead, roaming a garden with my FZ50 and Raynox in hand.
Of Towhees, Tripods and Trust
I’m extra cautious out there as a photographing fool. I feel I owe the animals my respect when they allow me into their inner sanctum to photograph them …
Phases of Fennel
The fragrance of fennel always takes me to Southern California . . . to the untamed hillside of my parents’ home . . . years ago now . . . where she and my dad landed after a lifetime of soaking up maritime fog . . .
Never Underestimate a Cattail
Today, I watched a Marsh Wren collect soft fibers from the head of a cattail — and dive into the abyss of cattail leaves to build up a hidden nest.
One Tree, Many Lives
Every spring, the wood chipper shows up. One morning, Fargo-like, it just appears . . . always while I’m in my bathrobe, never after I’ve quaffed my caffeine . . .
All Right, Mr. DeMille . . .
This umbrella was left behind in a park where some of San Francisco’s wild parrot flock was foraging for dropped fruit in the grass.
City On (and Behind) Hills
“I don’t know of any other city where you can walk through so many culturally diverse neighborhoods, and you’re never out of sight of the wild hills. Nature is very close here.”
~ Gary Snyder (poet)
The Penultimate Waxwing
Every Cedar Waxwing is the penultimate waxwing. Even though I think each image I snap in March or April will be the last of the season, invariably, another flock of waxwings descends for a photo op.
Mudbath
I’m keen to see eyes peering out of mudflats . . . the creatures from the bog, the foraging carp, the bullfrog in camo, a Pacific chorus frog in a dewdrop. I shot this photo at Blake Garden, just north of Berkeley in the Kensington Hills. My vision is tuned to anomalies and, sure enough,…
