Perhaps the famed migration of the Swallows from their winter home in Argentina to San Juan Capistrano isn’t as fleeting as the theme Transient suggests, but try taking photos of them near their nests and transience takes on a whole new meaning.
The nesting swallows flit back and forth so quickly that trying to capture one or several in a photo is a little ridiculous. Especially since I was precariously perched on the levee under the launch near where we windsurf. As soon as I dared step into their realm, they, and I mean hundreds of them, went flying, diving with acrobatic precision only the Flying Wallendas could execute!
In all 40 of my mostly failed images, I managed to highlight the nesting swallow (upper left corner of photo above) in most of the shots. I figured this was a nesting female patiently waiting for daddy bird to bring yummy…
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I love waxwing birds… They are among my favorite feathered friends, and I am lucky because we have a lot of them in my neighbourhood, even if I live in a big city.
I prefer their name in French, though. Jaseur de bohème, litterally “Bohemian chatter”. More poetic than “waxwing”.
I like the little things, because they look like flying water paintings.
Today, I was watching the usual flock (well, actually just guessing here, because they pretty much all look the same). Waxwing birds love the little fruit shown on the above picture. At work, we have two trees that become, during Springtime, all-you-can-eat restaurants for my pretty waxwings. Just without the bill!
My eyes were going from one bird to another, just enjoying their ballet from branch to branch, when something tickled my crazy brains.
The said little fruit are not so little, if you’re thinking waxwing-wise (which you…
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In the Arena!