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Last June I took a photograph similar to this after a brief hailstorm.
This is not ice. Remember the dandelions?
They matured.
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For a week I have been without a properly functioning camera. When the one I use most went weird, I fell back on my previous camera, but maybe it had taken offence at being relegated to a drawer.
It takes nice pictures but now I remember why I abandoned it in the first place.
It is temperamental.
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So I fished out the tiny camera that I carry in my handbag, but I cannot find the charger cable.
There are really only two places it is likely to be, but it’s not.
When I stop looking, it will no doubt jump out and bite me.
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As you will have surmised, I take pictures of everything and at this time of year I have live subjects, queuing to be photographed.
Well, not exactly. They queue for food.
Grackles are an amusing subject.
Their iridescent feathers are a challenge at the best of times.
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“Wha? Wha’s up there?”
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After supper yesterday I came back to my desk as usual and glancing outside, I saw that the wheelbarrow was bathed in a spotlight from the departing Sun.
As you can see, it’s not a wheelbarrow at all. It came with the house, a decoration of sorts I suppose.
Now it’s a wildlife feeder.
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More pictures to be had…
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Bad pictures.
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Of a brattish starling.
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Master Sparrow went to investigate:
“Whatever is all this racket?!”
“We’re being fobbed off with corn!”
Grant decided a 50/50 mix would be less damaging to the budget.
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Someone else was searching for a main meal, carrots being a mere snack.
Perhaps it thought I wasn’t watching.
Perhaps it didn’t care if I saw it chewing my wallflowers.
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Last year the wallflowers were unscathed, but 2023 was strange in all sorts of ways.
We call mother groundhog Blaze because she has a white streak down her head.
She always pops up while we eat supper, so we watch out for her.
Four days ago, I noticed an itty-bitty tiny little nose beside her in the bushes.
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We knew she had babies and had wondered when we would see them.
Compared to other years, it seemed way too soon. Previously, they emerged in July.
Perhaps our mild winter got things rolling sooner.
So to speak.
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By the following day, the nose had got up the courage to venture out.
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They could fit in the palm of a hand.
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Groundhogs have 2 to 6 kits and before long, a second baby ventured out.
Eventually, a third.
They are hard to tell apart, but we know there are three because we actually saw all three at the same time.
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One is especially diminutive.
Perhaps a girl?
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One thought it could eat the seed tray.
Perhaps a boy?!
This nose pattern is different, but when they are scampering about it’s hard to keep track.
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“Glub! That doesn’t taste good.”
“I think I chipped a brand new tooth!”
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“No, no, it’s OK. Can still chew a carrot.”
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“You like my babies?”
“You can take picture, no charge.”
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They are so precious.
You will get tired of seeing them.
But maybe not.
Thank you, Carolyn, for today’s enchanting post and your wonderful photography!
I keep smiling looking at the mother and her little cute “noses”!
The pictures of the birds looking up at something up in the sky are priceless!
Joanna xx
Adorable!! 😍🤗
Thanks for sharing these sweet photos.
Catherine
Gorgeous – the decoration of sorts is far better off as a feeder!
Yes, it would make a rotten wheelbarrow!
I love seeing the baby groundhogs (their noses are almost bigger than their little faces). I’m going to ask Berto to build me a wheelbarrow too – it seems like the perfect seed tray for all the finches that come to visit us in our garden.
Baby Groundhogs! Who could tire of those? (Not me)
(Charger cables are really cheap on Amazon, even dedicated ones)
Best wishes, Pete.