
Looking into a dream before actually dreaming. Sunday evening nocturne.

Looking into a dream before actually dreaming. Sunday evening nocturne.

Miles, Coltrane, Evans…..or as Louie Armstrong once said…man if you gotta ask you don’t know.

Clouds above the marsh made for a scenic afternoon.

This grey goose is the king/queen of the local pond.

Ah the snood. That fleshy protuberance that hangs down over a wild turkeys beak. On males Turkeys the snood can grows up to 5 inches in length. When a male is trying to impress a female the snood turns bright red and elongates even further. The males with the longest, brightest snoods tend to attract the most mates.

Here two males are in full display mode however it is curious that one of the males snoods is blue the other red.

While mature female turkeys develop a short snood three evolutionary function remains a mystery.


While walking down the trail we felt a little tap on our shoulder. When a tree wants you to sit and have a little conversation it’s time to listen.

While their emergence at home is still many weeks away.
Not too far from home a Mourning Cloak awakes.
Spring is in the air.

Memory is a funny thing. What was a moment of reflection becomes a reflection of a reflection.

Seasons pass and come again blurring into one.
A season that never came.
A season that never left.

Places you’ve been seem close yet far and never how they are.

Yes, memory is a quite peculiar thing.


Over the course of about fifteen minutes we were also privy to his show. Each display period only lasted a few seconds or so but boy what a show.


From a remarkable collection of feathers and unique anatomical features Wild Turkeys are fascinating birds.
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