Source: Biomorphosis. Stone Curlew incubating eggs. Keeping a low profile is what the stone curlew does best. When confronted with danger these birds either scurry away to cover, or freeze on the spot hoping to blend into the background.
I can't sleep…
Source: Biomorphosis. Stone Curlew incubating eggs. Keeping a low profile is what the stone curlew does best. When confronted with danger these birds either scurry away to cover, or freeze on the spot hoping to blend into the background.
Remember the giant whooping crane on the county highway
whose mate had been hit, stretched out dead at the center
of the road? She stood by him, wings open and flapping, shrewd
voice anxious, screaming, her dark red crown bowing in her descent
through the rim of despair. With each oncoming car she took a short
running flight to get our of the way, pacing the side of the road until
she could return to him. The next day, when still there, exhausted,
wings tattered and brown, we scraped what left of her lover
off the asphalt with a snow shovel, and laid the body on the low,
dry treadgrass by the embankment. The birds had come that July
to our swill, which had filled with monsoon rain. She stood there
close to us, in the still, yellowing grass, her interminable legs wobbling
underneath her body. The long toes of her feet twitching. That
shallow silver dish of my mind chattering, lay hold of me. Lay hold.
~ Elizabeth Jacobson,”Lay Hold of Me,” The American Poetry Review (July/August 2016)
Notes: Poem – Memory’s Landscape. Photo: Simone Sbaraglia
Source: Photo by @brianlehmannphotography (via Paper Ghosts) – Barn swallow’s nest on the wire of a missing light fixture inside an abandoned farmhouse in Nebraska.
Source: My Modern Met: Audubon Photo Awards – Long-billed Thrasher. Top 100, Professional Category. Hector Astorga.