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Wolf Moon
‘Twas a Wolf Moon out there… a time of mystery, a time of danger, a time when sensible folks stay inside, lock the doors, bar the windows, and hide in the bathtub, for the wolves be a’calling out there. Wolf Moons are nothing to fool around with, that’s for sure, for many an odd thing happens upon them.
Nah. It was merely the first full moon of the year, the Wolf Moon, and I was, where else, camera in hand when the clouds parted for a moment, allowing this shot just as it was rising just to the left of the Sandia Mountains in New Mexico (left, in this case is defined as myself being in the west looking east, with the mountains to my right, which makes this moon to my left and my head hurt trying to describe it). It was in wonderful color for this particular moonrise. Now, one might comment that this shot isn’t as sharp as it could be. To which I would respond “yup. That be a ton of atmospheric crud between it and me”. But then again, that crud gave us this shot.
Wolf Moon, 2010. What a moon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it is off to find my bathtub.
Winter.
A time of cold and a time of snow. And in this particular case, a time for a whole lot of that wonderful white powdery stuff.
This ranch is located within Valles Caldera National Preserve and from the looks of things, humans don’t bother with wintertime occupation. Who can blame them really, for it would probably take somewhere just this side of forever to get through all that snow. And make no doubt about it… this is a lot of snow. Those drifts are fairly significant.
This photo was taken late in the afternoon with the dying sun, providing the long shadows. The ranch sits in the lee of a small hill, casting it in shadow (and one would presume that whomever built this placed it quite intentionally); shadows that grow even longer during the late winter afternoon. If you look close, you can see that the structure has been left to its own devices.
The Valles Caldera National Preserve is an interesting place; one, at the moment, full of snow. But that just adds to the charm and serenity that holds it in thrall until the springtime thaw.
What’s out there? Are we alone? Are the Universe’s mysteries right there waiting to be unlocked?
And how do we find out?
The answer is by doing a whole lot of dedicated research, using the tools that we have. One of those tools is the Very Large Array (VLA) in Socorro, New Mexico. The VLA is a series of radio telescopes doing exactly this kind of research. You’ve probably heard of the VLA, or even seen it in a movie. This radio telescope, however, is not in Socorro. Or anywhere close. It is actually just outside of the Bandelier National Monument in Northern New Mexico (although it is considered to be in Los Alamos) and part of the Very Large Baseline Array (VLBA). It is one of ten such isolated radio telescopes and a big part of the research the VLA is conducting. All together these ten form the world’s largest dedicated full time very long baseline interferometry instrument.
This is a 25m (82feet) dish antenna and is amazingly impressive close up (it is as tall as a 10 story building, which is none too short). However, I preferred this view of the radio telescope seemingly nestled in the snowy mountains.
So this radio telescope is pointed at the heavens, listening. Watching. Learning. Learning about radio galaxies, quasars, pulsars, supernovas and other really fun things out there. And piece by piece the mystery of what is out there is being unlocked.
I’ve been chasing this particular sunset for over a week now. Last week was an absolutely glorious day: the skies were perfect and it was going to be a killer sunset out in the desert. I was out there, ready for it, but alas, things didn’t work out quite as planned. This week, however, was a different story.
The day dawned with the most beautiful skies–ah, but it was going to be perfect again. However, by the time the afternoon rolled around, so did the overcast clouds and the day was not cooperating. Still, I figured I would head to the desert, just because, just maybe, the clouds would magically be somewhere else. Yeah, right…I can delude myself with the best of them.
It was, in the end, a really wonderful drive in the desert; down a one lane (and that’s being generous) dirt road, full of ruts and axel-breaking bumps, random drop offs, and very steep hills that see the road turn at the top of the hill. In other words, what a cool place. Still, no sunset was happening because of the overcast clouds.
But while driving out of the desert, in my rear-view mirror the most magic sight appeared, but only for a moment. I slammed on the brakes and jumped out just as the sun slipped below a distant mesa. And exactly after it did, the clouds parted, briefly, ever, ever so briefly and the desert lit up, just for me.
It was a glorious day!
Into the sun and across the ice we go.
At least, that’s what it appears is the case for these ducks as they head across the frozen pond in the morning sunlight. Of course, it seems that ducks ought to be swimming in the pond, not walking over it, but these guys don’t seem to mind. In any event, they’ve got a long way to go to wherever it is that they are heading to…the entire pond is frozen, so it’s a long walk.
Unless they decide to fly. Then it isn’t so far. But it is still frozen. Perhaps tomorrow it will thaw out and they’ve have an easier time of it.
January. For us here in the Northern Hemisphere, our days are often short and dark, and sometimes there is no blue sky at all to remind us that summer hasn’t forgotten us. But there is no reason we can’t get our blue fix in other ways, is there?
Enter Daisy Blue. A daisy, dyed blue, against a field of daisies dyed not blue. In fact, the rest of the daisies are about every color imaginable (ahem. A slight poetic license, that statement; mostly they are yellow and orange and purple and green). At any rate a picture to remind us that summer will be along quick enough. Besides, something bright on a winter day always makes me forget that winter is cold. And this time, I was inside, which is nice and toasty warm. Ah, daisy blue.
Funny things happen up on top of mountains…funny things indeed. The mere mortals who are way down below sometimes can’t see what happens, but when you have a Bird’s Eye view, well…that’s a different story.
The other day I was up on Sandia Peak at 10,378 feet, enjoying (if one could consider being insanely cold “enjoyment”. If you’re familiar with me, you’ll realize that I rail against the cold quite often. Yet, for some reason, I keep stepping out in it to take pictures. I guess, then, I am just passive-aggressive toward cold) the day, when, for no good reason, a cloud had the audacity to move over the peak I had happened to be looking at and admiring. After asking the cloud politely to move (it didn’t) I realized that a wonderful photo was staring me in the face. Naturally, as soon as the cloud saw my camera it started drifting away, but not before I was able to capture this shot.
I was deeply intrigued by the idea of the trail that now appears to lead to nowhere…does it continue on, ’round the mountain? Does it stop? Does it lead off the edge of the world? No footprints lead down the trail to snowhere…
From a squirrel’s point of view, birds, especially birds around a bird feeder, are generous and rain food from the sky. This Abert Squirrel is no exception and today it found a most wonderful harvest under our bird feeder.
It’s the Blue Jays, I think. I am pretty sure they have signed a pact with the squirrels where the Jays scatter all of the food out of the feeder to the ground below, in return for whatever it is that squirrels can do for Jays. In any event, the Jays took care of the “empty the feeder on the ground” bit and this squirrel enjoyed their hard work.
This squirrel saw me, but decided to pay no heed whatsoever. Casually, carefully and selectively it picked through the bountiful seeds on the ground, finding exactly the one that suited it, then it turned around and decided to show me the perfect seed.
But the joke was on the squirrel, you see. For there I was, camera in hand, patiently waiting for him to turn around. “Click” went the camera. “Gone” went the squirrel. And both of us couldn’t have been happier.
The Perfect Seed, indeed.
It was a shaky start, but in the end we managed to pull it off and visit the Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary in Ramah, NM.
The sanctuary is an absolutely wonderful place to visit: they are dedicated, and I mean dedicated, to helping wolves. They care for them, house them, feed them, and in do phenomenal work for and with the wolves. We took a photo tour of the sanctuary, which means that we had direct access to the wolves themselves, with no fences nor barriers between the camera and the wolf. There are more than a few wolves in the sanctuary, so naturally, we started with the red fox.
This is Romeo, a rescue Red Fox. He came from the midwest, and started life as a pet. As it turns out, keeping a fox as a pet, despite the ultimate in the coolness factor, is just not a good idea. They are smart, clever, way active and, uh, on the active side. They just, in the end, don’t make a good pet, which is unfortunate for Romeo. Luckily, the wonderful folks here took over his care, and he is living out his days in foxy luxury. He’s super friendly, very playful, not shy in the least, and best of all (for me), loves to mug it up for the camera.
Which is how this particular shot came about. Meet Romeo. He’s foxy, and he’s a great guy.
I’ve been sorting and collating photos over the last couple of days (it’s that dreaded “organization” thing–I try to avoid that as best as possible but every now and then slip up and accidentally get it together) and out popped this little guy.
This is a rescue Saw-Whet Owl, taken at the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. Plenty of fantastic groups are out there taking care of nature when it needs help, and this little guy is a rescue from one such group. They were kind enough to let folks meet this little guy and he was quite a charmer. In fact, for all the world he seemed to know what a camera was and how to strike a pose–my finger never has hit the shutter button so fast. He just sat there, very willingly, and very happily (I think. Come to think of it, how do I really know the owl was happy? I’m guessing it was. And if you know differently, please be gentle when you burst my bubble. Anyway.) turning this way and that in the sunlight. He was enjoying the afternoon, enjoying the sunlight (well, it is usually nocturnal, but one must make exceptions now and then), and enjoying it all.
When it comes down to it, is there anything better than spending your afternoon with a posing owl?
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