A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a single moment from the week
A simple, special extraordinary moment.
A moment to pause, savor and remember.
Participating with the SouleMama blog
A Friday ritual.
A single photo – no words – capturing a single moment from the week.
A simple, special extraordinary moment.
A moment to pause, savor and remember.
Participating with the SouleMama blog
We have been so lucky to have a huge flock of barn swallows visiting the pastures every evening. It is so pleasant to watch them swoop and glide through the paddocks eating hundreds of mosquitos, gnats, etc. They gather on the roof line, and almost like synchronized swimmers, they dive off and go about their business vacuuming the bugs from the air. In about an hour, they are done and fly off; only to reappear like clockwork the next evening.
The barn swallows have abandoned last year’s nest. Perhaps because of the barncats’ intense birdwatching activities last year, they have moved about 12 feet away. For about a week, the pair have been carefully engineering what will become their nestlings new abode.
The murder of crows gathers in small groups… watching… waiting… for what must seem to them to be the perfect moment.
One by one, they fly in… deliver a short hypnotic speech, then proceed to pick at the ice that has formed on the sheep’s backs. Once loosened the ice is plucked from the sheep and carried off to the tree tops.
This has become a somewhat bizarre morning ritual, and has prompted the questions…
Are they thirsty? Hungry? Or could this peculiar behavior be caused by their fondness of dog food?
