Never Quite The Same

There were some changes this visit. Steve, my son Rich, and I went to Gilbert Riparian Reserve yesterday. The guys hadn't been before. I was there several years back, but with my youngest, Paul, along on one of his visits. Possibly he was there more to assist me, like Rich was there to assist Steve. Last time I was on a scooter, shortly after one of my knee replacements. This time I was walking. But Steve needed his scooter, and that monster is so heavy that I can't break it down, load it, and put the pieces back in the car any more. Even Rich insisted that I never had been able to, but I was in great working shape years ago. I manhandled Daddy's scooter too. Honest! Of course, I took the batteries out from the heaviest part first.... So Rich came, but rather than walk the trails with us he decided to catch up on his sleep in the car while we were gone. 

But hey, still help.

This time both of us had cameras. (Paul isn't much of a photo enthusiast, though he can often get shots I can't if he's along, and does a pretty fair job of it.) Steve had just bought a new tripod and was giving it a whirl before we do our northbound sojourn. By the time he'd taken his first half dozen shots, he announced that it had already paid for itself. My hands are still steady enough to support my camera (the same kind as his, by the way), so I get by without one for now. I'm sure the day will come.

Last time was a much longer trip. When I was on my scooter, I could last as long as the trails did. Yesterday I made it around the first big lake and back to the parking lot, with pauses at every stop on a bench or large rock the place offered, which were a lot. My feet ached by the end as well. Steve made it only as far as I did, quitting first mainly because his back was bothering him. By the time he needed to head back, I was beyond protesting.

I wanted to. The back ponds have fewer visitors and different birds to shoot from closer viewpoints. The first time I was there several flocks of shore birds and dozens of turtles hung out where the shooting was good. Today a few turtles hid on rocks behind brush but no sandy strip of shore was lined with dozens - at least not where my route was. The shore birds stayed hidden out back. The ducks calmly swimming along a walkway last time were now frantically going after whatever a plethora of kids and parents were feeding them, so one good shot I managed to get was something of a miracle. But it was a great shot! The details in the feathers and the iridescence in the head were spectacular. Kind of a shame it was "just" a mallard drake. So ordinary in Minnesota.

There were some benefits to pooping out early. Having to sit on the benches to rest gave the smaller birds the security to come back and rummage for food within good camera range, enough so that a couple I'd never really seen before posed for a half dozen shots each, in much the same spots, so I could be fussy about which I kept and which were deleted. Bees visited close enough for portraits, even as fast as they flit between flowers, and shy gambel's quail dashed in and out of what I thought were just scenic shots of the water and surrounding trees, posing at just the right second. One bench was apparently a traditional feeding spot for a variety of ducks, and one little lady kept me company for quite a while, finally deciding that whatever was on the bottom was tastier than the nothing I offered.

I was disappointed about not getting a chance to shoot a great egret at one of those back ponds however, nor any herons like last time. I had taken pictures, but not good shots. My best egret shot cut off its tail and a heron was a blur of distant wings before the camera clicked. A green heron was so far away that I'd deleted the picture before I remembered there was supposed to actually be something in it. So imagine my delight when I snuggled up to a multi-trunked tree at water's edge to try for some ducks which were too far away anyway, when right by my feet an egret strolled past, seeking lunch. It was a small opening in the brush along the shore, and he wasn't dawdling, but I got time to get two shots off. This time, of course, one shot beheaded it, but the other one was perfect. I even had to zoom back in to include the whole bird! But I got it.

I would have danced the way to the car from there, but, well, I think those days are long gone.

I may have to bring my little scooter down again some trip when we're otherwise traveling light and have room in the car for it. Anyway, it gives Steve something to use for a trip to the post office or convenience story when we're up north, and me the means to hit the whole bike bath through town if I need it. Nice path, two miles, three benches. Let's not pretend it's just the 8,000,000 mosquitoes that keep me off it.