Hawk Eye

The Red Tailed Hawk. Long held sacred and long sought after for falconry, it remains a formidable hunter. If you are in North American and look to the skies, chances are you might see one of the incredible birds of prey soaring above.

These are large birds. Very large, actually, and their wingspan can easily be over four feet. And they can live a pretty long time, as well: up to 20 years in the wild. No wonder this incredible bird holds such a special place among us.

This particular bird was caught as it was looking away from me, but just for a moment. As it turned its head, its eye caught the surrounding trees, and quick as a wink the picture was taken. And good thing, too, for the instant I took the picture it whirled its head back around to look at me long and hard. Those eyes, when they are looking straight at you, hold your attention, and makes you glad you are big enough to not be considered for lunch.

There are different sizes of this photo available at our portfolio. Branching Sunset is available for purchase, as well, and you can have this print framed and delivered right to your door.

Wolf Eyes

The eyes have it. Oh yes indeed, they have it. Deep. Intense. Staring right through you and at you at the same time. Yellow in exactly the shade of yellow that eyes should not be. Seeing you, all of you, sizing you up, measuring you, and taking complete stock of you. Non-blinking and non-wavering the eye have it.

And they have you.

This particular pair of eyes belongs to a wolf at the Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary in Ramah, NM. The WSWS (when abbreviated) is all about the care and rehabilitation of wolves; they have more than a few there in varying stages of wolveness. Some are a little more gentle around humans than others. And some, like the guy, leave a little room for doubt.

Oh. And that spot of blood? Hard to see, I know, because the eyes hold you. But it certainly leaves room for doubt, doesn’t it?

Gimmie Sun!

They were quiet about their plans, and said absolutely nothing to anyone. After all, stealth is their middle name. They plotted and they schemed, going over their plan time and again until they had it absolutely perfectly. For, after all, they would have but one chance to get this right and they could not mess up their chance.

They waited for the perfect opportunity, daring not to barely breath, trying to hold in their excitement and curb their anticipation. Suddenly, they saw their opportunity! Quick as a flash they broke through the new failed Spring Snow and burst out to freedom! At last! At last they had found the sun again! Their daring plan to break free of the snowbank went off perfectly and the two daises once again were free to drink up the warmth of the afternoon sun.

Gimmie Sun became a rallying crying for all daisies and soon after more of them broke for the sun, following in the footsteps of our intrepid heros.

OK. So, that might be a wee bit melodramatic, but this was taken on the first day of Spring and naturally, it snowed. That didn’t stop me from taking a picture of a daisy though. Spring is here! Gimmie Sun!

Ssshhhh… be wery wery, quiet. We are hunting wabbit. And not just any wabbit, but a wabbit in the snow.

I had known this particular rabbit was there for the longest time, of course. I could see the tracks–fresh tracks, mind you–throughout the day. But the wabbit was that of a ghost, for no matter patient I was, it did not materialize. Luckily I am pretty darn patient, and finally I managed to catch it while it was outside of its hole. A moment later I had my ever elusive quarry square in my sights and the picture is now mine. Hah! Camera 1, Wabbit 0 (if we were keeping score. Which, given the number of times I’d missed this wabbit, it is a good thing we’re weren’t keeping score, come to think of it). At any rate, the Wascally Wabbit was now caught, fair and square.

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.