A theme today is “Domestic Cat”. Is any cat ever, really domestic? Almost certainly not, though they might pretend they are, at least while it works to their advantage. The domesticity is rather on the side of the family members they command …
Because everyone needs a photo of a cat now and again in their email or browser, here is “Domestic Cat”. Happy Thursday!
7 years on from this post we now are without Molly and Rupert is almost 18. This poem seems to have been written for cats. Have a wonderful day everyone, keep warm if the weather is stormy as it is here.
Original Post: January 16, 2012 – “Halfway down the stairs is a stair where i sit.”
“Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where i sit.
there isn’t any
i’m not at the bottom,
i’m not at the top;
so this is the stair
Halfway up the stairs
And it isn’t down.
It isn’t in the nursery,
It isn’t in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn’t really
It’s somewhere else
Instead!” – a.a. milne
We have two Cornish Rex cats – Rupert and Molly who have curly fur. Like all cats, they migrate around the house depending on where the sun is shining. In the morning it shines through onto the stairs. I was struck this morning by the wavy shadows of the stair balusters next to the curly cats, so caught this. Rupert is a golden colour, Molly is black. The image was better in black and white.
This is a photo I took 6 years ago and just found again with the original post text. The close protectiveness of the mother to the baby is particularly moving. They are no different from human mothers in caring for their offspring.
Now, I feel differently towards these lovely creatures, from what is written in the post below. I no longer wish to be responsible for any harm or suffering to come to them in any way, as in raising them for food. But that is now and this post below was how I felt then. And it was just as valid, though I have now changed.
Original Post: : October 21, 2012 – 294/366 – *Highland Cattle in the Evening Light
This weekend was one of discovery of our local area. We spent the days out and about taking photographs and basically drinking in the sights. For the first time since we moved here, over 15 years ago, I had the same exhilerated feeling that I got when we first moved to that wonderful place in France: “We LIVE here!” We discovered beaches, coves and roads that we had never seen, all within 15 minutes drive of our house. The colours, of course, were out of this world. It is the best year for leaves that I can remember.
But today’s image is one that has more depth and meaning to me (not to knock the colour, which I just love and I know would be more popular). As we were driving back towards home, we passed a small farm, with a farmer working among his animals. He had pigs outdoors, geese and ducks were honking and quacking in his fields and farmyard. The highland cattle you see here were in a field with a young Jersey heifer. I could have walked up his drive and started doing the farm chores that I used to do in our place in France. It was so much like home in the atmosphere of the place it was unsettling. This is a very unusual sight in Nova Scotia which made it all the more memorable and appealing.
So today I have these cattle in black and white photographed against the evening sunlight which lit their outlines so nicely. Noble beasts, harking back to ancient and not so ancient farmyards from lands across the seas.
It is winter again and the birds are looking for feeders and for seeds and leftover harvest to glean. We have fed the birds for 20 years but now no longer do so. We had a warning about a disease spreading via birdfeeders among the finches in our Province of Nova Scotia. Although winter was apparently not considered a high risk period for this disease and many people began to put their feeders out again, we decided against it. We had too many fatal instances of bird strike and we just couldn’t bear it each time it happened.
We still see the birds, but in the trees and bushes around us, we just have to keep watching for them.
This photo was originally taken in a snow storm in 2012, of a chickadee flying toward a feeder and about to land. I submitted it for a Scavenger hunt entry in that year for the theme “Feather”. It got awarded 1st prize from one of the judges, which I was delighted with, especially so early in my photographic journey. I have rescued the photo to
To wish everyone a lovely weekend, remembering the promise and young joys of Spring, to follow the winter we are now heading into!
May 27, 2012 – 148/366 – My Ducks Are All In a Row
Not far from us a special habitat that is protected and has been preserved and improved by Ducks Unlimited, is called “Miner’s Marsh”. It is absolutely rich with abundant wetland and marsh wildlife – birds, frogs, plants etc. We first went there this evening. It was unbelievably noisy with the loud booms of bullfrogs, beautiful song of red-winged blackbirds and other birds and ducks. The smells of marsh and ponds and wild blossoms in the surrounding woods were heady in the air this evening. This is one of the photographs of our first visit.
This is image #148 for my participation in the Creative 366 project on Google+
It’s always so hard to say goodbye. In this case we didn’t even get a chance to do that. We lost Molly last night, when we were thousands of miles away.
Molly was such a different cat. She took 16 years to really come out of her shell and learn to play and show affection. Her last years got better and better as she gained confidence and began to enjoy her life. She discovered the fun of chasing her tail this summer, at almost 16 yrs old. It’s so sad that, having got to that stage, her life ended so suddenly.
Molly had a special fashion sense. This photo demonstrates it best…
Molly was very serious almost all her life, with an intense way of looking at you – almost right through you. We sometimes called her The Looking Cat. We never knew why she was like that as Cornish Rex cats normally are very playful and not at all timid. Her life long companion, Rupert is totally different. He is gregarious, fun loving, affectionate and full of confidence. The first 2 weeks we had her she spent lying flat between the mattress and the box spring of a bed, almost too frightened to come out to eat. Once she began to trust us, after about 10 years, she would sometimes just sit and stare at us unblinkingly, making everyone feel slightly uncomfortable. She looked right into our souls.
Molly knew how to be elegant. Like all cats, she loved the sun and would always seek it out, whether indoors as here, or outdoors as in the opening image, wearing her harness which kept her from straying.
Goodbye Molly. Rupert will miss you. And so will we.
*Molly was here sitting in front of the book “The Silent Miaow” by Paul Gallico
Joni turned 4 years old a week or so ago, though it’s hard to believe it’s been that long since she joined our household! She still has the boundless energy and enthusiasm of a puppy, a characteristic of border collies. Born in the winter, she loves the cold and finds the snowy, blustery days invigorating, where we have to bundle ourselves up against the elements. Soon the snow will be deep on the ground covering the frozen treacherous icy ruts on the road and fields and the walking will be easier as we don our snowshoes (and Joni her boots) to head out across the landscape. The freedom of being able to go cross country on skis or snowshoes in the winter is hard to imagine if you haven’t tried it. The interesting thing is that once you are out in it, the cold doesn’t feel as bad. There’s a saying that it’s not that the weather is too cold, you’re just not wearing warm enough clothes!
Enjoy the winter, those of us who have it, Spring will come eventually and the cycle will begin anew.
And now back to England. This post is for the birds.
I have always associated England with birds as it was there that I first really started to learn about them. I have never been a bird watcher in the focused, knowledgeable and dedicated ‘twitcher’ sense. But I was very fortunate, when I was in my early 20’s, to take an adult education (evening) class given by the warden of Minsmere Bird Reserve in Suffolk, Jeremy Sorensen, who subsequently became a great friend. He loved birds and was a passionate advocate for conservation and protection of the habitat of the reserve. That love for birds that he had was instilled in all of us, to the point that it still forms an important part of each day wherever I live.
Whichever country I was in, I took special note of the sounds, sights and behaviour of the birds around me. I had already experienced the attacks and shrill cries of the protective arctic terns as they dive-bombed us in our little boat on the lake in Lapland, a few years before. (That story and podcast are here if you want to read about that wonderful night. https://elliekennard.ca/lemmings-midnight-sun/) Now I was even more aware and observed with an intense thrill my first ever osprey as I saw it dive into the Baltic sea off the coast of Finland and watched as it caught a fish and rose, flapping heavily, to take it to its nest where its young waited.
Those were the moments of drama and excitement. But life is mostly made up of the everyday, the ordinary, the mundane. And with birds, my memories of England are the fondest when I think of those that fit that description.
For me, on returning to England, I wanted to find and photograph a robin. The little bright, cheery fellow who is so belligerent and so cheeky will always represent that country to me. And I was not disappointed, as he appeared on this feeder you see above, decorated so nicely with the cobweb. But I hoped to see and hear more of my old friends, as many as I could in the time I was there. During my trip there were times when birds were the stars, and there were times when they were important components of the landscape, still a vital part of the visit. This post is dedicated to the stars. The next will be the incidentals.
The blue and the great
I also wanted to see a blue tit again. They are such pretty little things, too, I have many fond memories of them during my time in England.
This little one sat so nicely for me so bright and pretty on this stake and gave me just enough time to take one photo before he flew off in a hurry.
A close relative of this fellow is the great tit. This one sat only a few feet away, safe in a hedge, watching the feeder and making his mind up as to whether it would be a good time to make a dive for it. I was glad to get a photo of him in this environment, as hedges are also a great part of the English countryside, protecting and sheltering so much wildlife. There are not many left but small gardens such as this often have such a hedge, where you can usually find all kinds of creatures hiding.
The pigeon is an oft’ maligned bird that I love. It isn’t bright and flashy, but its gentle sound is so comforting to hear in the garden that I was glad to see this old favourite sitting on top of the same hedge, also eyeing the feeder.
On one very foggy morning in Lincolnshire I went for a walk along the river bank (which is behind the hedge you see above) and saw a lovely scene on the other side of the bank with a pond and reeds and ducks and fog. It was just gorgeous, with that soft mist and the ducks moving in and out of the reeds on the water. I knew I just had to get that photograph. I picked up my camera and focused… on nothing! The ducks had decided that I must be there to feed them. And so they had all left the water and gathered at my feet! I did get one or two photographs of them on the pond and in the reeds when they got bored and went back in, but this seemed to be the photo to share here, as they milled around me at the edge of the water.
I have already posted about my swan sighting, on here, but I should include that photo again, as it really was a star on my visit. I love the elegance of these beautiful, royal birds.
and now for a …..
Well I bet you weren’t expecting this last bird, were you? In a strange way, this, too, represents England. Bringing up a child in England usually involves visiting a farm park nearby and as we spent time with our grandchildren we did exactly that. And there was yet another bird, this beautiful Emu. So although an Emu is not your typical English garden mundane bird. He does have a place here, bringing back memories of all children’s farm visits over the years. I don’t think Joe or Elsie gave him a sideways glance as they ran off to play on the trampolines or climbing frames, but I lingered and caught his eye before I left him to his dinner.
Now you’ve seen the star birds that made my trip special as they brought back a memory of bird watching days in Suffolk. The incidental birds that are an important feature in some of the landscape photographs I took will be in another post.
I lived for 21 years in England in total and have been away from it except for short visits for almost 30. There are some scenes that are uniquely English memories for me (though they might well exist in other places) and I am hoping to find some of them on this trip and share them here. These are two special scenes to start off with.
As you gather from this post, we are back in England for a visit to family and friends. Today we went for a lovely walk along the bank of a river near where Steven’s parents live. There is something so very English about a river in the country, with the weird and wonderful boats moored along a rickety jetty and the ‘Walk here at your own risk’ sign posted there. The path was damp and muddy with blackberries still in the hedgerows which surprised me as ours have been over with long ago, as well as the bright red wild rosehips. The trees still have some leaves and, though they lack the brilliance of the autumn foliage we see, there is a rich depth to their colours of yellow and browns and to the greens and rough black earth of the ploughed fields. This is always intensified by the dampness in the air and on the ground. A lonely horse grazed quietly in a field, hardly bothering to lift his head to watch us go past.
The sun was setting behind the misty paler clouds that were gathering in the distance beneath the darker cloudbanks. It was by no means the most spectacular sunset, as my father-in-law assured me. In a way that made it more special for me, in the understated quiet ending of the day. So very British.
My landscape gallery is here: Landscape Gallery
I Wished For Swans
The river is just by an RAF station and suddenly there were jets screaming deafeningly overhead as they practised whatever manoeuvres they were performing. The sound of the engines ripped through the air and buried itself in my chest so that, with my fingers in my ears I instinctively pulled my elbows in to protect my heart. I can’t see how this noise is permitted in an area where people and wildlife can be so assaulted, but it is. (I felt so sorry for the poor horse grazing nearby who couldn’t put his hooves into his ears.)
And then, just as if they had read my mind and placed themselves where I couldn’t miss them, I saw two swans dabbling in the reeds of a pond on the other side of the river bank. I don’t believe I have seen a swan since I last lived in England. They are the quintessential royal bird, indeed they are the property of the Queen, no matter where they are found in the UK. They never turned their heads when the jets flew over. Their very presence and calm, elegant dignity turned that humble reedy pond at the edge of a muddy field into a place of silent, glowing, pristine beauty. It’s all part of my England.
My gallery of animal photography is here: Animals – they enrich our lives now and fill our futures with wonderful memories.
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