The World Beneath the Underbrush

  Earlier today, there came an eerily familiar fracas from deep in the creek bed.  It grew in intensity until I had to quit painting, grab the camera and slip unseen through the underbrush.  The cacophony reminded me of a saddening situation a few years back.  I witnessed a large male raccoon literally slaughtering the young of a small female.  It was breeding season but she already had kits. Since the massacre took place high in the top of a dead pine tree, there was nothing I could do to help the sweet little mama.  I watched and cringed as I saw the male pull the tiny babies from the nest, bite them and fling them to the ground.  Little Mama tried valiantly to protect her litter but it was to no avail.  She finally gave up and flung herself from the treetop.  She would rather plunge some sixty feet to the ground than watch her babies be so brutally killed.  This horrifying massacre lingered in my mind for years to come and, today, it surfaced with each scream.

  As I edged my way through the underbrush and down past the palmetto clumps, I was thankful for the cool air.  Hopefully, all cottonmouths had crawled back in their warm spots for the day and I would not tread on any.  The screaming continued for the full ten minutes it took me to reach the spot where I could see what was happening.  Thankfully, it was too early for kits yet but this was equally brutal.  Sweet and gentle love is not a common thing in the critter world.  Four large males were competing over a small female but she was caught in the middle of the brawl.  No matter how she tried, there was no escape.  She was bleeding and screaming as the males battled over her.  Since no kits were involved (yet), I turned to leave.  There was no reason for me to be there and, in fact, it would have been dangerous (and foolish) for me to intervene with nothing but a camera to use as a weapon to protect myself.

  As I clamored up the hillside out of the creek, I was suddenly sidetracked.  Without realizing it when I was racing down, I had plowed through a virtual fairyland of beauty!  Dropping to my knees, I admired the beauty of mosses, ferns and tiny flowers!  The overhead canopy of trees and bamboo had protected the area from the elements and allowed this natural wonderland to flourish!  Oblivious to the melee going on about fifty feet from me, I started photographing the captivating beauty of the forest floor.  Key word here is "started".  After only two photographs, the camera went dead and, in my rush to be a "savior of baby raccoons", I forgot to pick up extra batteries.  Yep, my wonderland would have to wait until I have another opportunity to weasel my way beneath the thickets.  Since it is to be cold tomorrow, it should be a perfect time if the opportunity presents itself.  Then, I SHALL remember to grab a pocketful of extra batteries! 

Lost in a Surreal World

  This morning's sun was completely blocked by a thick blanket of fog.  A total whiteout of calm had taken over the Bayou after the severe weather that had ravaged the area last night. Once again, high winds, hail and torrential rains pelted the Little Bayou House but, once again, it held strong and kept us safe.  The fog brought with it peace.

  The morning hike served as a good time to reflect on things as nothing could be seen further than about twenty feet ahead.  The footsteps were soft on the wet leaves and drips could be heard echoing through the woods.  Once on the pier, things felt strange.  Calls from mergansers and geese were the only things that broke the stillness.  The damp air over the Bay proved to be too much for my light jacket so I headed back to the woods.  There, the overhanging branches provided at least some shelter.

  It was here that I found spiderwebs suspended between the branches of many of the low lying branches. As usual, the simplest things enthrall me.  Each web was strung with droplets of water that had accumulated overnight.  These droplets sparkled like jewels even in the low light beneath the canopy of tree limbs.  The strength of the thin webs was remarkable.  Even with dozens and dozens of droplets on a strand, the web held.  Yet, with the whisper of a breeze or the gentlest of touch, the droplets would shower down to the ground like pearls from a broken necklace.  The web held yet the jewels fell and were broken into a thousand pieces. I was in deep thought about the spiderwebs when the sudden bark of a coyote sent my thoughts whirling back into reality.  Time to head back closer to the house.

 

 

Looking into the crystal ball

  Have you ever pondered what you might see if you could look into a crystal ball. What would your future hold?  Would you honestly want to know?  The more I think about it, the less I want to know just what this world will be like in the far future.  At the rate things are going, it does not bode well for most of us.  But, then again, we cannot worry about what things MIGHT be but only those that are here and now.  We should focus on what needs to be changed then step up to the plate and at least make an attempt.  It is not easy.  Life is not.

  That said, have you ever photographed anything through a marble? Ha!  Most likely not.  These thoughts do not usually occur to most folks. Only those of us who search in the dark corners of our cobwebbed minds, think of these strange things.  "I wonder what it would look like if I took a picture through a marble?"  Yep, that is what rattled about in my brain at four o'clock this morning.  It was worth trying at least.  So, I gathered things together played.

  The photographing "through" a marble did not work out as well as I had imagined.  The idea was good but my marble was not.  This was a cheap marble that had tons of air bubbles inside the glass.  It also did not help matters that the marble had several dings in the outer surface. Perhaps if I had obtained a crystal ball to do my experiment, things would have turned out differently but I did not have the foresight to do so. Hindsight is always better.  A clear, flawless crystal would have allowed for sharp, reversed images. I did not achieve any sharp images, reversed or otherwise, with my silly marble. Still, one rather neat photograph was obtained.  I am now in possession of one incredibly nice closeup of a marble. 

 The few "unexplained" mishaps of photographs actually interest me far more than the clear shot.  The sunlight caused "orbs" to appear in several pictures.  This is not unusual in the least, yet, the iridescence created by the light seems almost surreal.  The hundreds of air bubbles in the marble bounced the light around enough to create tiny rainbows above the actual marble.  The marble was acting as a prism. These floating orbs were so brilliant that the camera caught their beauty. 

  Sometimes, we do not need a crystal ball to see our future. Sometimes, we know exactly what we will be doing years down the road.  Regardless of the time, I am quite certain that I shall be playing with some oddity that strikes my fancy.  The unusual, the rarity, the mysterious will always intrigue me.  In my way of thinking, more people should do more playing.  Discoveries of new things would never be made without a bit of curiosity and playtime.

Creek Bed Wonderland

Michael and I have been scrounging around for dead logs to cut for firewood.  We have been tugging and pulling logs from the underbrush and tangled grapevines.  This area has not been cleared since Hurricane Katrina whipped through the Bayou eight years ago. Hence, we are literally fighting our way to the downed logs.  Our weapons of choice are pruning saws, snips and axes.  It is a bit of work but well worth the effort when you consider how many good trees would be destroyed if we used tractors and power tools.  Plus, all of this strenuous exercise is good for our health.

I always try to remember my camera while on these excursions since you never know just what you might find.  It is like an entirely different world down under the canopy of treetops.  With the creek bed being nigh on dry with the onset of winter, we are able to explore a bit further than we normally do.  The threat of Cottonmouth Moccasins makes one a bit leery about sludging through the overgrowth during warmer weather.  Down deep where the Bayou meets the creek, it is almost a fantasy world..a place where one can almost imagine faeries, gnomes and other magical beings live.  Thick green mosses mat most of the logs and ferns drape gracefully over the bed of pine needles.  Mushrooms of every sort grow freely on the mulched ground while the palmettos fronds appear to be thatched roofs of some small home.  These and the occasional bright red of a tiny Maple or Sycamore sapling all are picture-worthy creations.  I have a tendency of neglecting my wood gathering duties while I examine each and every interesting bit of flora or fauna that we discover.

Michael has shown tremendous patience with me as I refuse to let him cut a log just to protect some moss or mushroom.  My demands that he avoid pulling a vine that holds a grey squirrel's nest or chopping a hollow tree that houses flying squirrels are met with a shrug of the shoulders and a muttered "Sure".  He loves the wildlife as much as I do and readily agrees that we need to avoid disturbing them as much as possible.  This little wonderland known as the creek bed will remain intact as long as we have anything to do with it!