Raindrops keep falling on my head!
The phone rang as I prepared for my morning shoot. My Editor in Chief was crossing the river on the way to work and said to be sure to catch the sunrise. Corpuscular rays were peeking through and It was pretty she said. But by the time I got out to the dock they had pretty much dissipated. A layer of thick grey stratocumulus hung over the marsh darkening the sky. I wondered what I would see today in this weather.
As I walk to the pier a large black vulture circles
overhead. Just what I need, an omen of some sort. I sit in my blind and sip
some coffee and situate myself looking towards the sun, what little there was
that is. This is where the action
would come from I thought. Soon two white pelicans begin to swim up the
channel. These are indeed large graceful birds and very beautiful with broad
pink beaks. White pelicans do not dive from the air like the brown ones. They
prefer to land on the water and scoop up the fish with their large pouched
beaks. They look at each other as if to say, “see that guy in the blind there,
he ain’t foolin me” as they turn and head back out the channel. Oh well.
Suddenly, an orange beak pops up out of the water in front of me. It is a
cormorant on a morning fishing expedition. I am careful not to make any sudden
movement, and it does not even seem to notice me. It dives and surfaces even
closer. Thankfully a small ray of sun was still out and I get a few good
pictures as it heads up the channel and surfaces again with a fish. Another
bird lands with a belly flop and swims towards me. It is a pretty faced Pied
Billed Grebe. Soon I hear a rushing sound in the distance that begins to
crescendo in volume and with a rush of wind, a squall of rain blows through the
channel and begins to pelt the blind.
I zip up my portholes and inspect my quaint abode and sip my coffee.
There are a few leaks at the seams but overall I am sitting pretty comfortable
and dry. The grebe and cormorant are happy as a duck in the rain. The plunking
sound on the blind is soothing but begins to subside a bit. Then it is over
nearly as fast as it started. The sun peaks through the clouds again as it
climbs higher in the sky. Then the sky begins to darken again. The cormorant is
right in front of me. A single drop of rain falls nearby. Then another and
another as the rain begins again. The latter rain is much stronger than the
former. I zip up most of my portholes and listen to the sound as I sip my warm
coffee and give thanks for the opportunity I have had so far. The rain again
begins to subside and the sun tries to peak out again. Unzipping the rear
porthole I see a stilted sandpiper in the marsh on muddy legs. The cormorant
swims out in the deep water and casts a look over his back towards me. It then
lifts up on its wings and begins to walk on water and is airborne in a few
beats. It flies off into a ray of sun streaming down through the clouds. It is
time to go.
Perhaps to those in the north it does not seem like spring is near with the blizzard snow still on the ground. But Punxsutawney Phil is never wrong. The latter rains have begun in more ways than one. Change is in the air. The birds are sporting their mating colors more each passing day. New birth will soon follow. I hope we can share it too. Be blessed. Harry