More on the Navy Base...and, okay, the hawk

I'm about to go to sleep and the phone rings.

BUTLER: "Aren't you going to do the blog about the hawk?"

I'm befuddled.  First of all, it is the first time that Butler has ever called me.  Secondly, when I'm about to go to sleep, I'm sometimes already asleep -- the line between waking and sleeping if very fuzzy for me.

"I wasn't planning on doing any more blogs this week until Friday," I say.  "By the way, how did you get my number."

BUTLER: "Dumb question, Mark.  I live in your head.  Anyhow, you mentioned it in your last blog and Heidi said she couldn't wait."

So I schlep downstairs, vaguely wondering about the word "schlep."   Butler already has the computer warmed up.

Okay.  So here it is.  I went to the Navy Base originally to shoot the sculpture exhibit they put up every year, although why they do it in February, I'll never know.  It wasn't very good.  I only shot one of the sculptures.

It didn't compare with the permanent sculptures they have there:

Departure

Homecoming

And then I saw a hawk fly into a tree.  I grabbed my telephoto lens and...you know, this really isn't that entertaining a story.

BUTLER: "Just tell it.  You can't renege on a promise."

Okay, okay...so I walked around the tree and couldn't find it.   There was also a city worker there whose job was either to supervise the folks who were edging the walkways or...

...to sit all day in his electric cart texting on his cellphone.   At least he never moved for the entire time I was there.  But, in case one of his supervisors ever reads this blog, his customer service skills were wonderful.  You can't tell it from this shot but he had a killer smile and a great sense of humor.

I asked him if he saw a hawk and he said there were several hawks that nested in the trees around that area.  He said they drove the squirrels crazy.  So I looked harder and found it. 

It was so visible, I don't know how I missed it the first time.  Then...aw phooey...I don't know how to make this story halfway interesting.

BAGMAN (entering the room, rubbing his eyes):  "Just listen to Butler and tell it, post it, and go back to bed.  You're keeping me up too!"

Anyhow, since I had some time on my hand and the light was good, I decided that I really wanted a shot of the hawk flying.  After all, the hawk had to fly sometime.  I set the camera for high speed multiple shots and sat down on a bench, pointed the camera at the hawk, and waited.

...and waited

...and waited.

At one point I said to the city worker, "He's got to fly sometime, doesn't he."

The guy gave that big toothy grin that doesn't show up in the one picture I took of him and said, "They can be very patient."

"Not as patient as me!" I said.  The guy just laughed and went back to texting or playing a game or whatever he was doing.

After awhile, my arms got tired.  I switched positions.  I thought about putting down the camera but decided that I'd miss the takeoff...beautiful hawk wings just beginning to unfurl in the warm sun.  So I kept the camera pointed at it.

Eventually I put down the camera, held it at the ready and just stared.  My neck was getting sore.  But I kept staring at the hawk.  When it did take off, it would make a beautiful picture. 

Then I quit staring at the hawk. 

Then I took another picture.  (Actually I had already taken twenty pictures already but they were all the same with slight differences of head position). 

At least he was awake.  After ten more minutes, I considered throwing something at the stupid bird!  Another ten minutes and I decided that I would never be a true nature photographer.  I stood up and started to walk away.

The guy in the golf cart called, "I told you they were patient."

I figured that he was an expert on patience since he had not moved in the golf cart the entire time and showed no inclination to do so now. 

"I'll be back!" I shouted, shaking my fist at the hawk.  "Next time I'll bring my own squirrels!"

The guy in the cart laughed and waved.  I went back to my car and put my camera and tripod in the trunk.  And, of course, as I closed the trunk, the hawk swooped over my car and up into another tree. 

The hawk was laughing as loudly as the guy in the cart.

Can I go to bed now?

BUTLER: "Be my guest.  And thanks.

  

There is no water on Bull's Island

FRIDAY (Planning for Bull's Island)

Barclay called me to remind me there was no water on Bull’s Island. “We’ll have to pack in enough water for the day,” he said. I had just finished working in the yard for an hour and had already drunk two bottles and was still thirsty. The forecast for Saturday was even hotter and there would be five of us. All day. I was thinking about taking our wheelbarrow on the hike.

BAGMAN: “Don’t be a sissy. It’s going to be great!”

BUTLER: “Last time you got all macho you ended up in the E.R.”

I was pulling out Brian’s big old backpack from the closet. We had used it only once on a three-day camping trip that lasted less than 24 hours due to bugs, my aging spine, and difficulties lighting a campfire in a chilly dawn. As I was looking at the pack, Karen called up from downstairs. “I just talked to Jerry!” (Barclay’s mom and Karen’s best friend) “She says there’s no drinking water on Bull’s Island!”

SATURDAY (Whoopee!)

Bull’s Island is an exquisite wilderness preserve accessible only by ferry. Visitors are limited so we got to the ferry early, worried that the 4th of July weekend would be crowded. We hadn’t considered that almost everybody was more interested in hot dogs, fireworks, beer, and beaches than in slogging through alligator infested trails in 98 degree heat. Only two other people showed up so we had the island to ourselves.

It was my daughter’s last day before returning to Boston and Jean, Karen and I were going with Barclay and Jerry. I had really been looking forward to it...until I’d completed the first 100 yards of the twelve miles Barclay had mapped out. I didn’t mind the long slim black snake that scurried away before I could get out the camera or even my first encounter with a very large Copperhead which I also missed photographing due to the fact we were all frozen in our tracks. What gave me worry was the weight of a ton of water bottles on my shoulders.

Of course Barclay was striding along under the same weight. But he was 40 years younger and had spent the last year tramping all over Northern Kenya. After the first mile, I started drinking water like crazy – not because I was thirsty but because I thought that empty water bottles would be lighter than full ones.

BAGMAN: “Stop whining and enjoy the sights.”

BUTLER: “Try to keep from dripping sweat into the camera’s eyepiece.”

Hey! A Butterfly!
Good excuse to stop, take a picture, try to drink more water

Jean and Barclay deciding to take the longer, more scenic route
Barclay says we'll see more alligators

I'm just focused on the word "longer"

Ah for a cool dip!
Oops! Maybe not, after I noticed the obvious gators.

And the less obvious ones.

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Egrets taking off! They probably don't like the alligators.


The mystery bird! I couldn’t find this one in my Audubon Guide?

Help? Does anyone know what kind of bird this is?

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And finally, after six miles -- Boneyard Beach
Good for swimming and shots of driftwood.

This one looks like a mermaid has crash landed
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Heading back

The six miles back would have been easier because we had emptied ¾ of the water bottles. But, by then, my muscles felt like Gumby and sweat and salt water had converted my shorts and underwear into a fabric that resembled Velcro against my inner thighs. Meanwhile, Karen and Jerry are laughing about their childhood and Barclay is telling Jean how he usually avoids the ferry and kayaks over and back – 90 minutes each way! I consider throwing a water bottle at him.

Back at last, drinking more water, and waiting for the ferry to take us home.

Why are these people still smiling?

The low angle of this photograph is due to the fact that I’m lying on the ground not even concerned about fire ants since they can’t possibly do more damage than the sunburn, mosquitoes, and underwear chaffing has already done.

Riding the ferry back, we were treated to a large school of bottlenosed dolphins. They kept popping up and staring at us. The naturalist driving the boat said they were curious about us but I knew better. They were playing a game with my beat-up and exhausted nervous system. They’d pop up in an unexpected place and as soon as I turned the camera on them they would duck their heads under and giggle madly. I finally ran out of memory card and never did get a single shot with a dolphin face in it.

So I just shot one final picture of myself in Barclay’s sunglasses to prove to myself

that I was still alive.

He's not even sweating!

So, finally, the naturalist driving the boat, smiled, opened a large ice chest and offered us all big…oversized…cold bottles…of water.

I was the only person on the boat that did not take one.

SUNDAY
Stayed in bed, moaning

MONDAY
Went to work. Moaned some more.

TUESDAY
Finally found enough strength in my fingers to post this.

Now to go and find some texture shots for Friday's Shoot-out. Maybe I'll shoot my Velcro Shorts.