.
Chestnut-headed bee eater (Merops leschenauti), Kaeng Krachan, Phetchaburi, Thailand: photo by J.J. Harrison, 1 February 2011
___
Tickell's Blue Flycatcher (Cyornis tickelliae), Phi Nong, Kaeng Krachan, Phetchaburi, Thailand: photo by J.J. Harrison, 29 January 2011
Plumbeous Water Redstart (Rhyacornis fuliginosus), male, Doi Inthanon National Park, Ban Luang, Chiang Mai, Thailand: photo by J. J. Harrison, 6 February 2011
Himalayan Bluetail (Tarsiger rufilatus), Doi Inthanon National Park, Ban Luang, Chiang Mai, Thailand: photo by J. J. Harrison, 6 February 2011
Red-wattled Lapwing (Vanellus indicus), Laem Phak Bia, Ban Laem, Phetchaburi, Thailand: photo by J.J. Harrison, 29 January 2011
Blue Whistling-thrush (Myophonus caeruleus), Royal Agricultural Station, Ang Khang, Mon Pin, Chiang Mai, Thailand: photo by J. J. Harrison, 7 February 2011
Mugimaki Flycatcher (Ficedula mugimaki), Khao Yai National Park, Pak Chong, Thailand: photo by J. J. Harrison, 2 February 2011
Black-capped Kingfisher (Halcyon pileata), Phra Non, Nakhon Sawan, Thailand: photo by J. J. Harrison, 2 February 2011
Grey-tailed Tattler (Tringa brevipes), Ralph's Bay, Lauderdale, Tasmania, Australia: photo by J.J. Harrison, 11 January 2011
Aram Saroyan: two poems (bird bird bird / eyeye), from Aram Saroyan, 1968
9 comments:
I think "replication and variation" says it all. I guess "sizing" is implicit in "replication". The poems are just the right size for the birds. Obviously, a birding trip to Thailand would be astonishing.
Tom,
Thanks for such sightings (these birds & Aram's words), whose 'reappearances' here resonate as parts of world made habitable (again). . . .
4.18
grey whiteness of fog against invisible
ridge, robin calling on branch in right
foreground, no sound of wave in channel
still in the same direction,
make pictures out of
everything, only appearance
of surfaces, what is
silver of sunlight reflected in channel,
sunlit white cloud against top of ridge
Putting together "parts of world made habitable (again). . . .", here, and yes, what joy, a birding trip to Thailand.
(Though to be an insect in Thailand, with so many beautiful but keen-eyed and sharp-beaked insectivorous woodland "friends" in every tree and bush -- possibly somewhat fraught?)
So beautiful. So little. And so distant. Birds are always distant and a mystery. But you make them look always close to us.
Tom,
lighgt / morni,ng / and that robin robin robin still calling calling calling . . . .
4.19
light coming into fog against invisible
ridge, robin calling on branch in right
foreground, no sound of wave in channel
sort of actual, as evidence
therefore of present
part of the whole, position
“abstract,” material
grey-white fog against invisible ridge,
shadowed green pine on tip of sandspit
correction, "lighght"
Here in Connecticut I saw a hummingbird on August 21st in the backyard.
Samara Pearlstein: Replication and Victor(y)
Tom,
Read this right after you. From the Grand Mistress of Tigers bloggers, her recent observations of plumage at the Oakland Aviary:
“Victor Martinez caught Coke, and he had his away gear on. He
is still using Mizuno so his chest protector…is navy blue and…
NEON ORANGE. I love it so hard. More orange, more, MOAR!
…Speaking of Victor, he also took a foul tip off the replicators
in this one.”
Julia, I would agree that the interior life of birds is a great mystery to us. The exterior however, a great blessing, when we can catch a lucky glimpse of it. As did Vincent, with that Connecticut hummingbird. Or as does J.J. Harrison, with this brilliant bird photography, revealing the ineffable. Every exquisite feather of it. This is perhaps my favourite bird photographer, and wonderful with landscapes as well; in fact J.J. Harrison's great pictures have appeared here often, as it happens, sometimes under the interesting pseudonym "noodle snacks". Mother Nature must be the greatest of all artists, but with a photographer like this one (Australian, by the way), we might say a bit of that natural genius has rubbed off.
And in today's aviary we also have Stephen's robin... and the orange plumage on Victor's chest protector.
Sorry to be a bit slow responding to these sweet comments, by the way; house demolition in agonizing stops and starts again here this week, more rain complicating matters... the best thing I can think to say of life amongst us ancient wingless creatures at the moment would be, it's for the birds.
And the next best thing I can think to say is: more orange! more orange!
Post a Comment