“A baby in a hospital in Bangkok is dressed in a dog costume to celebrate the coming Year of the Dog.”
And here I thought every year is the Year of the Dog…
Notes:
As I watch the eagle rise above the bay, I let myself drift out beyond an edge, as though I were moving across the edge of sleep…I am filled with the same disdainful surge that releases him from his perch, feel the strain of air trapped in the hollows of his wings…The eagle sweeps away in great, lazy arcs, drifts against the corniced peaks, and soars up toward the smooth layer of cloud…At three thousand feet, the feathered sails flex and shake against a torrent of wind…I can feel the lash of gusts as the eagle planes above the mountain, gaze through his eyes at the fissured, snow-laden peak, and share the craving that draws him more deeply into the island’s loneliness…I have flown, however artificially, and have looked down over the island and the strait. But I can never know what the eagle sees with those blazing eyes, what are the shapes of mountains and shores amid the maze of detail that leaps into his brain.
There is the eagle’s world, and there is mine, sealed beyond reach within our selves. But despite these insuperable differences, we are also one, caught in the same fixed gaze that contains us. We see the earth differently, but we see the same earth. We breathe the same air and feel the same wind, drink the same water and eat the same meat. We share common membership in the same community and are subject to the same absolutes. In this sense, the way we receive what surrounds us is irrelevant: I have the eagle’s eyes and the eagle has mine.
Notes:
The bird cranes his head down to watch me, so the plumage on his neck fluffs out. HIs head is narrow, pinched, tightly feathered; his eyes are silver-gold, astringent, and stare forward along the curved scythe of his beak. Burned into each eye is a constricted black pupil, like the tightly strung arrow of a crossbow aimed straight toward me. What does the eagle see when he looks at me, this bird who can spot a herring’s flash in the water a quarter-mile away? I suppose every stub of whisker on my face, every mole and freckle, every eyelash, the pink flesh on my eyelid, the red network of vessels on the white of my eye, the radiating colors of my iris, his own reflection on my pupil, or beneath this reflection, his inverted image on my retina. I see only the eagle’s eye, but wonder if he sees down inside mine. Or inside me perhaps.
Photograph: Fairy-Wren
“The pictures were taken by veteran nature photographer Steven Kazlowski. The images were taken in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, along the Arctic Coast of Alaska. There are currently around 20,000 wild bears living in the Arctic Circle. That number could be cut by two thirds by mid century if the Arctic continues to warm due to climate change. In 2008, the US government declared polar bears an endangered species and banned all American hunters from returning from Canada with their trophies. Norway is the only country that has banned all hunting for the species, with Russia, Alaska and Greenland allowing native communities to hunt the bears as a food source.”
DON’T MISS Kazlowski’s other incredible pictures of the polar bears here.
Quote & Image Source: Dailymail.co.uk
Good Wednesday morning. Here we go with my selections of the inspiring posts of the week…
Good Wednesday morning. Here we go with my selections of the inspiring posts of the week…
Good Wednesday morning. Here are my selections of the inspiring posts of the week:
Olive @ Olivethepeople with her post titled The Subway Samaritan: “…He was crazy. At least I thought so. At least at first. You see…”
Tina @ Practical Practice Management with her post titled Who Made an Impact on You. I’ve read similar iterations of this thought but it never seems to get old and always seems to leave me in wonder. “Name three friends who helped you through a difficult time…”
Sedone @ Getting Better, Man. with his post titled Giving Happiness a Helping Hand aka Beware the Silent H*. “I’m dedicated to giving happiness a helping hand, although sometimes I want to give it the finger…And don’t miss the short video.
The Lilac-breasted Roller “is found in sub-Saharan Africa and the southern Arabian Peninsula, preferring open woodland and savanna; it is largely absent from treeless places. Usually found alone or in pairs, it perches conspicuously at the tops of trees, poles or other high vantage points from where it can spot insects, lizards, scorpions, snails, small birds and rodents moving about at ground level. Nesting takes place in a natural hole in a tree where a clutch of 2–4 eggs is laid, and incubated by both parents, who are extremely aggressive in defence of their nest, taking on raptors and other birds. During the breeding season the male will rise to great heights, descending in swoops and dives, while uttering harsh, discordant cries. The sexes are alike in coloration. Juveniles do not have the long tail feathers that adults do. It is also the national bird of Botswana and Kenya.” (Source: Wiki)
Image Source: Fairy-Wren
Related Posts:
Good Wednesday morning. All of my inspiring posts of the week come from a single source. Thank you Sandy Sue for pointing me to Peg-o-leg’s Ramblings who has started a series of guest posts called “Should Have Been Freshly Pressed.” Peg awards the bloggers a “Freshly Pegged Award.” Here’s some samplings:
Life In The Boomer Lane with her guest post titled Why I’d Rather Be 65 Than 5, 15, 25, 35, 45, or 55: I hate that my body moves more slowly than it used to, that when I roll over in bed, my back hurts, that sex is accomplished in mostly one position, that photos of myself scare me, that I can no longer run up and down the stairs or sit in a pretzel position on the floor or reach way under the bed to grab something. I hate that reaching way down into the crib to pick up my grandson must be planned like a military operation . I hate that my memory fails at the oddest times, that I am beginning to lose a grip on pop culture, that I think a lot about being home in bed with a book when I am out in the evening. I hate that people in charge can look younger than my children…” Great post. Read more here.’
Misty @ Misty’s Laws with her guest post titled The Last Straw…To My Heart. “I have an admirer. I am being wooed on a daily basis. I see him almost every day and he gives me what I so desperately need. He satisfies my cravings and soothes the beast within. He gives me the ability to face the day. He provides me with the fix that I need before I can function every morning. He is . . . the drive-thru guy at my Dunkin Donuts...” Read more here. [Read more…]
Good Wednesday morning. Here’s my selection of inspiring posts of the week.
The crested caracara is in the falcon family but not fast-flying aerial hunters, but rather sluggish and often scavengers. They are found in Cuba, South America, Central America and Mexico and in the southernmost parts of the U.S. The Northern Caracara has a length of 19-23 inches, a wingspan of 42-51 inches and weighs 1.8-2.9 pounds. It is broad-winged and long-tailed. It has long legs and frequently walks and runs on the ground. The Northern Caracara is an omnivorous scavenger that mainly feeds on carrion. The live prey they do catch is usually immobile, injured, incapacitated or young. Prey species can include small mammals,amphibians, reptiles, fish, crabs, insects, their larvae, earthworms, shellfish and young birds. The voice of this species is a low rattle. (Source: Wiki)
Image Source: Thank you Steve Layman via Head Like An Orange
Related Posts:
Good Wednesday morning. Here’s my selection of inspiring posts of the week.
The burrowing owl is a tiny but long-legged owl found throughout open landscapes of North and South America. The burrowing owl measures 19–28 cm (7.5–11 in) long, spans 50.8–61 cm (20.0–24 in) across the wings and weighs 140–240 g (4.9–8.5 oz). As a size comparison, an average adult is slightly larger than an American Robin. Burrowing Owls can be found in grasslands, rangelands, agricultural areas, deserts, or any or any other open dry area with low vegetation. Unlike most owls, Burrowing Owls are often active during the day, although they tend to avoid the midday heat. But like many other kinds of owls, Burrowing Owls do most of their hunting from dusk until dawn, when they can use their night vision and hearing to their advantage. Burrowing Owls have bright yellow eyes; their beaks can be dark yellow or gray depending on the subspecies.
Source: Thank you fairywren for the photo by Alfred Forns.
Related Posts:
Good Wednesday morning. Here’s my selection of inspiring posts of the week.
The cute birds are Guira Cuckoos and are found in Brazil, Uruguay, Paraguay, Bolivia and Argentina. It is generally rather shaggy-looking and has a total length of 13 in). It feeds on large arthropods, frogs, eggs, small birds (not nice cuckoo) and small mammals such as mice. It is not an accomplished flier, mostly gliding or hoping from one perch to another. The bird’s call is unmistakeable for bieng long and shrill, something between a long whistle and a wailing. (Just what we need for a wake-up call on a Monday Morning.)
Source: Thank you fairywren for the photo by Jason Ellison.
Related Posts:
Good Wednesday morning. Here’s my selection of inspiring posts of the week.
Live & Learn 