Hoodoo you think you're foolin'?

Last week I posted about a hike through Wire Pass. Later that day we took another, easier nearby hike to the Toadstool Hoodoos in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument in southern Utah.

This image is from the first time I visited the area in November 2016. The sunny day lit up the colorful white, red and yellow Entrada sandstone. You can also see the harder caprock Dakota sandstone in the center atop one toadstool and a collection on the top cliff. The softer Entrada erodes away while the caprock becomes balanced above creating the toadstools or hoodoos.

This trail is just off U.S. 89 between Kanab, Utah and Paige, Arizona. Last week, I mentioned the lottery for the Wave hike. In January 2020, we sat in the BLM ranger office in Kanab where they used to do the lottery like picking Bingo number balls out of roller bin. (Today, it’s all on-line and electronic.) After losing (again) we drove that very cold morning to the Toadstools. As we got closer, with clear blue sky above, a thick cloud lay low on the horizon. We drove into the heavy fog shortly before the trailhead. Eerie hoarfrost covered the few desert plants.

And lay tight on the ground.

This January, storm clouds gathered that would result in a big snowfall the next day which diverted our planned travel, but made for dramatic skies on this visit.

I’d not noticed the toadstools pictured above on my prior visits; they are a couple hundred feet above the ones you hike to. I spotted them further back on the hike and got this image using a long lens. Some millennium in the future this may be eroded down after the others disappear. These were above the rock layer you see in the image below.

As I was working on this post, an apt Paul Simon song played. It seemed he sang it a bit differently:

“I’d say now, hoodoo, hoodoo you think you’re fooling? . . .

My mama loves me, she loves me

She get down on her knees and hug me

Like she love me like a rock.”

Was this creature singing that song?

Or maybe I was.

Wire Pass to Buckskin Gulch

In south-central Utah, right on the Arizona border, sits Coyote Buttes North a/k/a “The Wave” that only a few hikers a day can get a permit to enter. I’ve entered the lottery many times over the years and never got drawn. Fortunately, the area is filled with other amazing hikes, and this year we tried a new one that starts on the same trail as The Wave.

The Navajo Sandstone began in the Jurassic Era, and the wind from that time is petrified into rock and sculpted again by wind and water. Soon the trail heads into a slot canyon called Wire Pass.

After climbing over and under huge tree that had been swept into the canyon during the flash floods that carve and smooth the walls, the gorge opens briefly into a wonderland of twisted, curling rocks before heading back into the slot canyon.

Wire Pass eventually enters into Buckskin Gulch, which at 17 miles is the longest slot canyon in the world. At the junction of the canyons, a thousand years or so ago, the Ancestral Puebloans carved petroglyphs into the wall.

The opening where the canyons intersect allows you to see how deep the canyon is since you usually can’t see the top while hiking in the narrow gorge.

Buckskin Gulch goes for miles in each direction.

And look in the other direction.

Despite the long dry period, some water still flows at your feet reminding you how the gorge was carved over eons. It also creates lots of mud as the canyon narrows, and discouraged us from hiking further up the canyon.

After a snack to sit and revel in the view, it was time to head back up Wire Pass.

And enjoy the open space of twisted rocks before heading back into the slot.

The slot canyon ends with chances to enjoy more expansive views while walking past the trail to The Wave and hoping to win the lottery some day and hike again in this magical place.

Fluttering Friends

I had a couple fun close encounters with some birds this year. In Estes Park, Colorado this August, we were surprised to see many hummingbirds that were getting ready to migrate south.

Broad-tailed Hummingbird

Rufous Hummingbird

One patient lady sat in the grass holding a flower, and a hummingbird enjoyed feeding from it.

As a very young boy, I remember visiting a lady’s house near the beach who left her front door open, and Florida Scrub-Jays would fly in to get the food she left out. That Jay is endemic to Florida and is on the Endangered Species list as its habitat shrinks. It has recovered somewhat.

We were visited by its cousin the California Scrub-Jay while hiking in Utah this month.

California Scrub-Jay

We were having PB&Js while soaking up the sun on the Petrified Sand Dunes in Snow Canyon State Park. That interested the Jays. While they wouldn’t eat out of my hand, they would come close by to find some bread.

In the Fog . . . with Hermann Hesse

A couple months ago I posted about a visit to a beautiful geographic feature in Nebraska that I camped next to and hoped to explore more the next morning, but the rain from a tropical depression coming up from California chased me away. I continued on to my next planned stop of Badlands National Park in South Dakota. The whole drive was through rain and fog, and when I first got to the park, there was little to see beyond a few hundred feet. Eventually, the fog lightened a little.

I’ve mentioned in a couple posts of a time I backpacked in North Carolina and awoke to a flooding Pigeon River that I camped beside. Another post about that hike I used a favorite poem from Anishinaabe poet Gordon Henry, Jr. Sleeping in the Rain. That night in the rain-soaked tent I was reading Sidhartha by Hermann Hesse. He was also a poet.

In the Fog, by Hermann Hesse

Strange, to wander in the fog.
Each bush and stone stands alone,

No tree sees the next one,
Each is alone.

My world was full of friends
When my life was filled with light,

Now as the fog descends
None is still to be seen.

Truly there is no wise man
Who does not know the dark
Which quietly and inescapably
Separates him from everything else.

Strange, to wander in the fog,
To live is to be alone.

No man knows the next man,
Each is alone.

Blessingway . . . Colorado

While Navajo reservation land is currently in New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah, and the Ute have tribal land in southwest Colorado, and the Paiute assert rights to land in the area, the Navajo Blessingway graces all land. The Way of Harmony seeks to bless those on a journey. And mountains are a particular holy place for the Dineh. These are in southwest Colorado.

“Now I was surrounded by Sun’s surroundings,

when with the aid of a beautiful one I walked about,

Now I am long life, now happiness . . .

Behind me blessing is extended to mountains

Before me blessing is extended to the mountains

Below me blessing is extended to the earth

Above me blessing is extended to the sky

At dawn I walk.

Behind me it is blessed where I walk, before me it is blessed where I walk,

I walk, at dawn I walk.”

Text Blessing Way: With Three Versions of the Myth Recorded and Translated From the Navajo, Fr. Berard Haile, O.F.M., 1970

Mesa Creek, Curecanti National Recreation Area

A few years ago, we visited Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park in Colorado. The narrow canyon is over 2,700 feet deep. Apparently, I never posted images from that visit. Two years ago, I hiked Curecanti National Recreation Area which is just downstream of the National Park. (The link gives some of the history of the area.) This fall we went back to Curecanti to enjoy the incredible autumn colors.

The easy hike begins by crossing the Gunnison River.

There were a few folks fishing for salmon that were just beginning to run up the river. We heard several loud splashes during the hike when fish leapt out of the water.

Upstream in the National Park, it is a challenging hike to get to the bottom of the deep canyon. Here, while the canyon is not as deep, you get a get taste of the Gunnison River’s work.

It’s hard to imagine a better time to hike along the river then when the fall colors are glowing and the light is reflecting in the water.

Cheers to the Gunnison River and Curecanti!

Toadstool Geologic Park, Nebraska

A hidden gem in northwest Nebraska in the Oglala National Grasslands is Toadstool Geologic Park. A view north from the campground looks like much of western Nebraska.

But a view to the west makes you think you might be at Badlands National Park in South Dakota.

Never having visited, knowing I’d be driving remote roads, and wanting to get some images before camping, I hurried and arrived about an hour before sunset. Got quite a show.

Took a nice mile hike in before it got dark, and looked forward to a longer hike in the morning. Like Badlands NP and Agate Fossil Beds National Monument a bit south of here, the rocks are filled with fossil bones and animal tracks from about 30 million years ago. (I posted some images from Agate Fossil Beds a couple years ago. Also, the Field Museum in Chicago has a terrific new exhibit called Life After the Dinosaurs which has some fossils and models of the animals that lived here.) Here’s an image of the only animal I saw.

With the clear skies, I was looking forward to getting up during the night and getting some images of rock features with the stars.

Unfortunately, when I awoke at midnight, clouds covered above so I went back to sleep.

Several hours later, I heard rain on the roof, I realized further hiking would not be possible, and that I better head out before the dirt roads get worse.

I hope I can get back to this remote spot someday. It is well worth more exploration. For now, the memories and photos from an hour’s stop will do.

Million Dollar Road Stop Conspiracy

Due to some national park site closures due to the government shutdown and to changes because of rain and flash flood warnings, we were ahead of “schedule” on our drive in Colorado. We altered plans to take a different route — the Million Dollar Highway. The two lane U.S. Route 550 travels north from New Mexico through Colorado. Various stories attribute the naming of the old road through the many mining towns, but the section between Silverton and Ouary lives up to its moniker.

We had sunny skies, clouds sweep by, and a snow storm. Quite a drive. I spotted something that made me pull over into a convenient spot where some ATVs were parked that were going to climb the side roads. It wasn’t this that made me stop.

Or even the colors of the aspens and evergreens.

Or even the patterns in the aspens.

Or even the stream that ran along the road.

These fellows made me stop.

A group of ravens has many names: A Conspiracy, an Unkindness, a Treachery. Around the Tower of London, they’re called a Constable. We had a snack and watched them fly among the aspen.

The Conspiracy would frequently reorganize.

Not until I was home and worked on the images, did I see a spy among the Conspiracy — a Black-billed Magpie. Spot it?

Cheyenne Bottoms, Cheyenne Anthem

Last week, I posted images from Capulin Volcano in New Mexico. The day before, I stopped for some birds in Kansas and Oklahoma. The first was Cheyenne Bottoms Preserve which is owned by the Nature Conservancy and is adjacent to lands managed by the Kansas Department of Wildlife & Ducks and the U.S. National Wildlife Refuge. The preserve was filled with shorebirds on their way down to Texas, perhaps visiting spots I saw last winter.

A favorite band in college was Kansas. From their song Cheyenne Anthem:

From the mountains to the sun, life has only just begun

We wed this land and pledge our souls to meet its end

Life has only just begun

Here my people roam the earth in the kingdom of our birth

Egrets and Herons, Cheyenne Bottoms Preserve, Kansas

. . . .

You have come to move me, take me from my ancient home

Land of my fathers, I can’t leave you now

We will share it with you, no man owns this earth we’re on

. . .

Lord, let me stay under the endless sky and the earth below.

Kansas, Cheyenne Anthem (When our oldest went to college, for a while I had his ringtone play another song from that album: Wayward Son.)

After stopping for some more birdwatching at Cimmaron National Wildlife Refuge also in Kansas, I headed into Oklahoma to camp at Black Kettle National Grasslands.

Say’s Phoebe

This little fellow would fly down into the grass to catch insects and return to his perch, but was too fast to get a picture of while eating. He was next to where I camped outside the small (pop. 77) town of Felt, Oklahoma near where OK, TX and NM meet. The National Grassland is named after Southern Cheyenne Chief Black Kettle.

On earlier on a trip to this area, I visited two national monuments connected with Chief Black Kettle. In November 1864, Black Kettle’s peaceful village at Sand Creek in Colorado was attacked by the 3rd Colorado Volunteer Cavalry and over 150 Cheyenne men, women and children were murdered. Black Kettle rescued his wife Medicine Woman Later who had been shot nine times. Inspired by my visit to Sand Creek National Historic Site, I posted some images with a poem by Cheyenne writer Suzan Shown Harjo.

Another sobering spot is Washita Battlefield National Historic Site a bit further east in Oklahoma. In 1868 Black Kettle returned to his village after an unsuccessful petition of peace to an Army post commander. The next day, another massacre killed both Black Kettle and Medicine Woman Later. Their spirits still fly there. I previously posted a bird singing at that site.

Northern Harrier

A larger bird that would also fly down into the grass for prey by the campsite was the magnificent Northern Harrier.

You have come to move me, take me from my ancient home

Land of my fathers, I can’t leave you now

We will share it with you, no man owns this earth we’re on

. . .

Lord, let me stay under the endless sky and the earth below.

Shut Down, Hike Up

The government shutdown started the day before my trip to the Southwest. I had campsite reservations on federal lands and planned to visit many National Park sites. What might I be able to get to? Gates were locked at a hoped for visit to Ft. Larned National Historic Site in Kansas, but that extra time resulted in a visit to the terrific nearby Sante Fe Trail Center museum. That night, the parking lot was open at the small picnic area in Rita Blanca National Grasslands in tiny Felt, Oklahoma. I got a little birding in before more folks came to the lot to camp. A nice couple from Springfield, Illinois and their dog set up next to me, and we shared some drinks and talked about our travels. They planned to visit Capulin Volcano National Monument in New Mexico the next day. I had visited a couple years before and it was a little out of the way of my planned route, but when I woke very early, I decided to head that way.

Dawn at Capulin Volcano with Venus

I arrived just as a little light was coming into the sky. The volcano had a bright light on top that I soon realized was Venus. I drove on to the road to climb up the cone, but as expected, it was gated. The sign read that hikers and bikers were allowed when it was daylight, and I figured that the light switch had been turned on.

Dawn on the volcanic field

Dogs are not allowed on trails in the park, so Chance sat in the car during our visit two years earlier. This time we’d not be taking any trail, but walking the two mile paved road, so Chance came along. The road corkscrews up the cone and the dawn light was creating a nice show of all the cones in the distance. As the road curled to the east, the sun was just coming up.

The new light played on the grassland below. Capulin sits in the transition zone between the prairie grasslands and the Rocky Mountains. But it felt more like being in an Impressionist painting.

Or maybe one of Georgia O’Keefe’s who worked not far away

Or farther afield, maybe John Constable’s Romantic landscape.

We made it to the top and got to look down on another nearby cone before heading down.

The hike had been quiet, but the birds were out and singing for the walk downhill.

Canyon Towhee

I hadn’t even planned to come to Capulin Volcano the evening before, but thanks to a conversation, plans changed. The government shutdown closed the road to cars, but allowed Chance and I to hike the full round trip without encountering anyone else and enjoy the light show to begin the day. And then getting near the bottom, a giant Golden Eagle exploded out of a tree just overhead. I couldn’t get the camera focused quickly enough for the surprise, but fortunately it swung back a little later for a shot.

Chance and I made it back to the car for breakfast and to chat with some other people to encourage them to hike up the road. Before we left, the couple from Springfield came and I got to thank them for inspiring me to enjoy an inspiring morning.

Golden Eagle

Oh, Deer

We were lucky to see quite a few animals in Rocky Mountain National Park. By far the most common were elk from the far distance to eating along the roadside.

There was a competition for the cutest. I’d vote for the marmot on the alpine tundra.

Prime competition came from the Least Chipmunk, but when there’s “least” in your name, it’s hard to compete.

From smallest to biggest, we move on to the moose.

Mama moose and her young one were in Sheep Meadow. We had hoped to see some Big Horned Sheep here, but had to settle for this pair.

Going back to the car from looking at the moose, we were surrounded by some mule deer.

The end

A to Z: Alpine tundra Zoom

Fall River Pass in Rocky Mountain National Park is at nearly 12,000 feet. The one-way, dirt Fall River Road leads up the mountains to meet the paved Trail Ridge Road and offers a wonderful view of the Pass.

The tree line at Rocky Mountain NP ends at just over 11,000 feet. Above that is the alpine tundra.

From a distance the alpine tundra looks barren and nearly lifeless. However, taking a trail on the tundra reveals a bounty of life in the tough environment.

Flowers bloom and seed throughout the very short growing season.

Next week perhaps some of the birds that fly around here.

Night Thoughts

We took many hikes up to lakes in Rocky Mountain National Park. One terrific adventure was to Mill Lake, where we sat on a peninsula to enjoy the view over the lake and the clouds venturing over the mountain peaks surrounding the lake.

Here is a poem by Franciscan Father Murray Bodo.

Night Thoughts, by Murray Bodo, O.F.M. in Song of the Sparrow

"Spinning and tossing . . . their songs"

Growing up in Florida, we had lots of Mockingbirds. Two very young babies fell out of their nest from a tall palm tree. Dad put them in a box to protect them and the parents flew into the box to feed them. As they grew, I got tweezers and fed them, too. As they grew, I perched them on my finger, and lowered it down to get them to flap their wings and learn to fly. Once they flew, they kept returning for our food. We’d open the back door and they would fly into the house for seeds. One had a bad leg from the fall, that was “Limpy,” and the other was “Tweetie.” I searched for a picture of them sitting on my shoulder, but I couldn’t find it. Here’s a fellow who looks a bit like them.

Grey catbird, Montrose Point, Chicago

This morning

two mockingbirds

in the green field

were spinning and tossing

the white ribbons of their songs

into the air.

. . .

White-crowned Sparrow, Montrose Point

I had nothing

better to do

than listen.

I mean this

seriously.

. . .

From Mockingbirds, by Mary Oliver

Tree Swallow, St. James Farm Forest Preserve

Tree Swallow (in a Bluebird nest box), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve

. . . .

when they rose

out of their mortal bodies,

like a million particles of water

from a fountain,

. . .

Bluebird (homeless?), St. James Farm Forest Preserve

. . . .

Whatever it was

I was supposed to be

this morning- -

whatever it was I said

I would be doing- -

I was standing

at the edge of the field- -

. . .

Willow Flycatcher, St. James Forest Preserve

I was hurrying

through my own soul,
opening its dark doors--

Baltimore Oriole, after its bath, Montrose Point, Chicago

I was leaning out;
I was listening.

From Mary Oliver’s Mockingbirds

Scarlet Tanager, West DuPage Woods Forest Preserve

This wonderful Tanager has been my nemesis. I haven’t seen this stark colored bird in years. I keep hearing its beautiful call, but can never see it. Finally, this fellow gave me a show.

I quoted quite a bit from Mary Oliver’s Mockingbirds, but left out the important central part of the poem. Do yourself a favor and read it: Mockingbirds

I mentioned that I searched unsuccessfully for the picture of me with the mockingbirds, but I did find this one of me with mom—and my first camera, a Kodak Brownie Hawkeye. The picture is at Busch Gardens, so I’m pretty sure I shot some parrot pictures that day.

Warbler Weeks

It’s been the peak of migration season and the time to see warblers as they head north. It’s mostly hearing them and then getting peaks of the little ones. Although, they’ve been in the nearby forest preserves and my yard, the best place to see them lower to the ground is at the aptly named Magic Hedge.

Warbling Vireo

Nope, the fellow above is only pretending to be a warbler. Here’s a true warbler, and can you guess it’s name?

Yellow Warbler

The Magic Hedge is the nickname of the Montrose Point Bird Sanctuary on Lake Michigan in Chicago. In the 1950s, it was one of 20 Nike Missile bases as the final defense around Chicago in the event of a Soviet attack. Decommissioned, it became a preserve. Only 150 yards long, over 300 species of birds have been spotted here, including:

Palm Warbler

The three images above I got before I even walked in the sanctuary. They were right along the path and the road that drives along the harbor. The site is popular for the birds since it is a green sanctuary in the city right on the Lake Michigan flyway that the birds use on their migration.

Yellow-rumped Warbler

I visited the sanctuary last week on my way to nearby Wrigley Field to watch the Cubs. (The bird watching was much better that day than the ball game.) There’s plenty of ball fields in Montrose Park. I’d sometimes come with my brother Bob to watch games there, and I suspect I saw my brother Herb play some 16” softball there.

Blackburnian Warbler

Blackburnian and Yellow Warblers made my life list on prior year trips to Montrose. The Park District and volunteer groups work to make the area safe for the birds and add a couple water features which not only provide a place for the travelers to bathe and drink, but they also attract a lot of people with binoculars and long camera lenses.

Chestnut-Sided Warbler

This fellow made my life list this day at Montrose.

Magnolia Warbler

The Magnolia Warbler made my life list at Montrose in 2019. Bathing behind it was another fellow who made my life list earlier this year in our backyard.

Tennessee Warbler

The little Tennessee Warbler flew up to a branch to dry off and pose. They’ve been in the tree tops in our yard and in nearby forests just singing away, but I’ve not been able to get a good image. So I was very happy for this bit of magic before I left the hedge.

Backyard Birds

With migration in full swing, our backyard is filled with song and action. Their whistles, twitters, and songs play in the background as I type this. We have a pair of robins and three hatchlings nesting right by our back door that get annoyed when we use that door.

Song Sparrow

A forest preserve is just a couple houses over and a wetland in there is filled with frogs that have been joining the chorus, especially in the night and early morning. Unfortunately, none have come over to have their picture taken. One of the most vocal of the birds though, does indeed sound a bit catlike.

Gray Catbird

Not sure why we had to get so Greek and call this one a Phoebe, because it clearly calls its own name a lot: FEE-bee

Eastern Phoebe

One that wears its heart on its chest is the Rose-Breasted Grosbeak. The plain brown lady has come right to the feeder by our window, but the striking fellow keeps his distance. I found this one in the neighboring forest preserve. His voice carries at least football field distance, so the high perch serves him well.

Rose-Breasted Grosbeak

Another voice that is often in the chorus but hard to spot is this guy. Well worth the view when he does show.

Indigo Bunting

The world seems always a bit upside down for these little ones.

Whited-breasted Nuthatch

Someone was generous enough to pose in sunset light.

Downy Woodpecker

Going for the bluesky look on its way up north was this warbler

Yellow-rumped Warbler

These guys have been singing in the neighborhood, but have been ignoring the fruit I’ve put out.

Baltimore Oriole

Finally, a pair of lovers in the woods nearby.

Northern Cardinals

"Tohu wa-bohu" תֹהוּ וָבֹהוּ

That time of year to revisit my favorite text, myth, poem, story: The creation story in Genesis. Last year, I was fortunate to attend Easter Vigil at the English speaking Franciscan church in Tokyo, and listen to this wonderful story proclaimed.

I recently found a very interesting podcast episode that explores Genesis as a whole and the creation story in particular. If you’d care to listen, the discussion of creation starts about 25 minutes in. It offers some inciteful translation suggestions like the one in the title of this post. Here are some images from the last couple years while enjoying creation.

Minnesota river

In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth,
the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss,
while a mighty wind swept over the waters.

Florida coast

Then God said,
"Let there be light," and there was light.
God saw how good the light was.
God then separated the light from the darkness.
God called the light "day," and the darkness God called "night."
Thus evening came, and morning followed—the first day.

Texas coast

Then God said,
"Let there be a dome in the middle of the waters,
to separate one body of water from the other."
And so it happened:
God made the dome,
and it separated the water above the dome from the water below it.
God called the dome "the sky."
Evening came, and morning followed—the second day.

Texas coast

Then God said,
"Let the water under the sky be gathered into a single basin,
so that the dry land may appear."

Curecanti NRA, Colorado

And so it happened:
the water under the sky was gathered into its basin,
and the dry land appeared.
God called the dry land "the earth, "
and the basin of the water he called "the sea."
God saw how good it was.

Kyoto

Then God said,
"Let the earth bring forth vegetation: 
every kind of plant that bears seed
and every kind of fruit tree on earth 
that bears fruit with its seed in it."
And so it happened: 
the earth brought forth every kind of plant that bears seed 
and every kind of fruit tree on earth 
that bears fruit with its seed in it.
God saw how good it was.
Evening came, and morning followed—the third day.

The sun and moon, Navajo Nation

Then God said:
"Let there be lights in the dome of the sky, 
to separate day from night.
Let them mark the fixed times, the days and the years, 
and serve as luminaries in the dome of the sky, 
to shed light upon the earth."
And so it happened:
God made the two great lights, 
the greater one to govern the day, 
and the lesser one to govern the night; 

Naperville, Illinois

and he made the stars. 
God set them in the dome of the sky, 
to shed light upon the earth,
to govern the day and the night, 
and to separate the light from the darkness.
God saw how good it was.
Evening came, and morning followed—the fourth day.

Kyoto

Then God said, 
"Let the water teem with an abundance of living creatures, 

Texas—Spoonbills, whistling ducks, night herons, egret

and on the earth let birds fly beneath the dome of the sky."

Avocets, Texas

And so it happened:
God created the great sea monsters 
and all kinds of swimming creatures with which the water teems, 
and all kinds of winged birds.
God saw how good it was, and God blessed them, saying, 
"Be fertile, multiply, and fill the water of the seas; 
and let the birds multiply on the earth."
Evening came, and morning followed—the fifth day.

Valles Caldera, New Mexico

Then God said, 
"Let the earth bring forth all kinds of living creatures: 
cattle, creeping things, and wild animals of all kinds."

Colorado

And so it happened:
God made all kinds of wild animals, all kinds of cattle,
and all kinds of creeping things of the earth.
God saw how good it was.

Kyoto

Then God said: 
"Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.
Let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, 
the birds of the air, and the cattle, 
and over all the wild animals 
and all the creatures that crawl on the ground."

Tokyo

God created man in his image; in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.

Kyoto

God blessed them, saying:
"Be fertile and multiply;
fill the earth and subdue it.
Have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, 
and all the living things that move on the earth."

Tokyo

God also said:
"See, I give you every seed-bearing plant all over the earth
and every tree that has seed-bearing fruit on it to be your food;
and to all the animals of the land, all the birds of the air,
and all the living creatures that crawl on the ground,
I give all the green plants for food."

Colorado

And so it happened.
God looked at everything he had made, and he found it very good.
Evening came, and morning followed—the sixth day.

Colorado

Thus the heavens and the earth and all their array were completed.
Since on the seventh day God was finished
with the work he had been doing, 
he rested on the seventh day from all the work he had undertaken.

Genesis 1.1 - 2.2

Jane and I will be reading the Creation Story at Saturday’s vigil along with a cantor and choir. Listen in if you’d like: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMgkAD01lvc

Earlier Creation posts: 2019, 2020, 2021, 2023

Rafting the Salmon River, Idaho

Seeing a friend for dinner tonight made me think of the rafting trip he invited me on seven years ago. I posted some images from that trip at the time: Ponderosa, Mars Attacks and Craters of the Moon, but I wanted to revisit some of the pictures from then.

Rafting the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, Idaho

The four night trip went mainly through the Frank Church Wilderness, one of the most isolated locations in the lower 48. Summer on the river was refreshing.

Sections of whitewater made for exhilarating moments, but most of the trip was peaceful floating, with a few hazards to avoid—or just enjoy viewing.

A highlight was enjoying some of the darkest skies in the country. We were blessed with clear skies at night, and the weather allowed me to sleep with no tent above. I set up the tripod and camera next to my sleeping bag, set the alarm for when the moon set and the sky was the darkest, and just reached up to turn things on, focus and shoot.

Starlight above the Salmon River

As I wrote earlier in Mars Attacks, I was flabbergasted to wake up and see this huge, red glow in the sky and reflecting in the river below. The Red Planet was its closest to the Earth and having major sand storms to increase its color.

Mars and Milky Way amongst the Ponderosa Pines

How about a little action in the sky. This view lets you see the reflection in the water a bit better.

The last night on the river.

Seven Sisters constellation above the Salmon River

The battle and creation of Glen Sligachan

Five years ago today started my Covid 19 isolation. My photo trip to the Outer Hebrides of Scotland was cut short, my daughter stopped her studies at the University of Edinburgh, and we scrambled to find flights home. A couple days before, I was on the Isle of Skye, one of the Inner Hebrides islands. We were to ferry to the Outer Hebrides, but decided that it might be risky to be isolated on a remote island as restrictions were increasing. One stop on Skye was to enjoy Glen Sligachan and the weather that changes on Scotland from minute to minute.

Glen Sligachan bridge, Isle of Skye

Long before people were here to build bridges as this, the island was inhabited by giants and fairies. Scáthach lived along the peaceful River Sligachan which was (is?) a portal to the fairy world. Another giant, Ireland’s Cú Chulainn, came to fight Scáthach. Their fierce battle created the Cuillin Mountains you can still see today.

River Sligachan and the Black Cuillins

Scáthach’s daughter Uathach wanted the fighting to stop. She cried and dunked her head into the river. The fairies instructed her how to stop the battle. She emerged and gathered nearby herbs to burn. The warriors smelled the smoke, realized they were hungry, came to eat and became friends.

Glen Sligachan

Cú Chulainn returned to Ireland where he won many battles from the lessons he learned from Scáthach. You can dip your head into the River Sligachan for seven seconds as Uathach did to obtain eternal beauty, as I obviously did not.

New Friends and Old

Visiting Texas this winter introduced me to several new bird species for my life list as well as seeing some familiar faces.

Brown-headed Nuthatch, Big Thicket National Preserve

Big Thicket National Preserve in southeast Texas, not far from Louisiana, has diverse habitats. At the Visitor Center, I asked the ranger for some hiking trail tips as well as good places to see birds. He said one of the best birding spots was in a pine forest right outside the building. Chance (who got a BARK Ranger certificate from the ranger) and I headed out and were rewarded with several of these little nuthatches I’d never seen before.

Black Vultures, Brazoria National Wildlife Refuge

Further south a pair of Black Vultures were keeping an eye on me as much as I on them. The Gulf coast and southern border are filled with both oil refineries and National Wildlife Refuges. In a nearby NWR was a collection of some of my favorites — Black-necked Stilts.

Black-necked Stilts, San Bernard National Wildlife Refuge

Near the Mexican border is a town with a Scottish name—Edinburg. Looking for a spot to take Chance for a walk, I stumbled into a local park that was set up for birding, and I added several birds to my life list there.

Orange-crowned Warbler, Edinburg Wildlife Center

This little warbler flittered through the low brush. You can just make out the faint coloring on its head for which it is named. However, the ones making the most noise and putting on the biggest displays were the Great Kiskadees flying in all the trees.

Great Kiskadee, Edinburg Wildlife Center

The colorful Jays also made themselves known by their loud calls and extravagant colors. They were masked for Mardi Gras.

Green Jay, Edinburg Wildlife Center

On the border along the Rio Grande (with plenty of ICE agents in the area) is Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. Walking a trail called the Chachalaca, I kept hoping to see the bird sometimes called the Mexican Turkey that will cross the river (with no passport). But I had no luck. After taking a couple other trails, it was time to head back to the car. Then several Chachalacas introduced themselves almost exactly as the Merlin app describes them: “Extremely noisy and full of character. Small groups crash through the brush from tree to tree with the grace of a large bulldozer. Often heard ‘singing’ a cacophony of grating shouts and squawks.” They were quite the sight and sound.

Plain Chachalaca, Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge