Raptors & Artistic Legacy

The other day I visited the Cascades Raptor Center with my camera.  A rain front was looming, and it would be the last day of the hot and dry weather.  I figured if I waited to go, I'd be flitting from aviary to aviary, hunched over my camera while trying to take photographs of raptors huddled away against the rain.  

Some of the residents have afternoon walks or at least sessions where they are brought out.  Taking pictures of them is always easier when this is so because I don't have to contend with the mesh of their enclosures.  If a resident is mewed up and I get close to the mesh and the resident is on the other side of their aviary, it's possible to blur out the bars, but there's always some kind of interference pattern superimposed over the raptor I'm photographing.

I've become enough of a regular over the last few years -- between my long hair and long-lensed camera apparently I stand out -- and I was chatting with one of the handlers and he asked, "What do you do with all the pictures you take?"  

The question gave me a little pause.  "Oh, I said, mostly I store them on Google Photos."  I thought a little more.  "I like to tell myself that I will use them as resources for drawing birds, but I'm pretty awful when it comes to illustrating them.  I am interested in seeing how they inspire the shapes for Middle Kingdom Egyptian Hieroglyphs; if you look at their legs --" 

"--their pantaloons?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, "and also how their wingtips and tail feathers come together."  And then the conversation veered onto hieroglyphs.  

Later, at home, the subject of photographs came up.  Mark said, "You know, honey, nobody is going to look at those photographs -- especially after you die.  So if you want people to see them, you'd better start arranging a funeral slideshow now."

"Why wait for a funeral?" I asked.  "Once COVID is under control (fingers crossed on that one), we can have people over for a little salon and we can have wine and cheese and set up three projectors in rotation and people can wander in little groups between the screens."  

"Honey, that's called 'a home slide show,' and people hated them back in the 1950's."

"Yes," I said, "I believe I've heard that referenced as 'The Bore Wars.'"  (And I do remember my folks having little get-togethers and bringing out Slide Carousels of Their Adventures Overseas.)

The question about that I ultimately do with the photos has lingered, especially as I uploaded them to various social media sites.  I enjoy taking pictures of the raptors for the same reason I enjoy taking pictures of MET artifacts or the Moon or other astronomical phenomenon:  the thrill of collecting.  It's more than just collection, though, it's also marking a particular time or space -- akin to the attitude behind the phrase, "what is remembered, lives."  Additionally, there are cathartic elements of being a participant-observer of something outside of oneself.   But these answer the question of why I take the photos, not what I do with them afterward.

I suppose what I do with them doesn't matter so much -- except that if that were true, I'd go through my photo collections and erase everything.  So keeping them is important; but my feeling is that they're more than just mementos validating my duration.  I suspect that this is a manifestation of the Art versus Craft question -- once you've made something creative or artistic, what are you going to Do with it?  

I think this is the point where I go an find a copy of the "Art For Art's Sake" manifesto.... 

Pre-Solstice Raptor Center

The other day I went to the Cascades Raptor Center.  The last time I went was just before the equinox.  

For whatever reason, the place was packed by 10:10 AM.  I was glad that I had pulled into the parking lot fairly early.  I'm guessing that it was a combination of many of the schools being out, the Olympic Trials being in town, and a recent lifting of some COVID restrictions.   There were lots of little kids, and I could tell when 11:40 hit, because (as I remember from a decade ago) that's typically when they hit the pre-lunch sugar crash.

It was peculiar to be there with so many other patrons.  

Since I've visited, the resident raptors' aviaries have moved around: Banjo has moved up the hill, Amazon's aviary is gone, Kali is living where Dante used to, and Dante lives where Archimedes was.  Other residents have moved, some have passed away, and there are new raptors on the site.

Danu is still chatty and still in her usual site.

I didn't clear my camera's memory, so I ran out of space for tons of pictures this time around.  I still managed to get a few.

The new thing I learned is that vulture's heads are iridescent.  Kali the vulture's head glimmered like the throat of a hummingbird when she was in the sun.  In the past I've either been below the vultures or the sun hasn't been out, so I've never noticed how dazzling red their head's can be when viewed at the right angle.

Birds of Late Winter

Monday, Mark and I went to Delta Ponds.  Mark desires to see beavers building their dam, and the best time to see them is at dusk.  The actual moment that is the most optimal is a question:  too early, and they really aren't swimming around in the murky waters; too late and the sun has set and you can't see anything other than wakes in the water (which are most likely nutria).

We keep going to the east end of the ponds, which is optimal for the silhouettes of herons in the trees.  The herons I photographed last time as they did their mating dance in the trees have put up a nest.

Tuesday, I went to the Cascades Raptor Center (partially because it was an annoying day, mostly because the sun was out).  I managed to get a photo of Neville in a new part of his aviary.   I learned (to my dismay) that Neville doesn't like really large camera lenses.

Pip, Peregrine Falcon was eating in the back of his aviary.  I like this particular photograph because of the inner and outer curve of his head.

 Danu, an Osprey, was brought out.  She's very vocal, and chatters to everyone most of the day.  Because her enclosure is roped off, I thought she was slightly upset by the visitors, but I was told that if she was upset she'd make less of a high-pitched keen (which can be heard over rushing river waters) and more of a honk.











I managed to get a photo of Danu's nictating membrane.

Normally, Danu's aviary is set back a ways, behind a rope, so it's difficult to see her, especially in the afternoon when the sunlight is shining on the mesh of her enclosure.

 All of the residents were the most vocal that I've heard them.  Amazon the golden eagle was building a nest (I think) and making gibbering noises like a creature from the Haunted Woods surrounding the Wicked Witch of the West's castle.  Dmitri the Eurasian eagle-owl was extra hooty, and was chattering like a cat as he beaked some gravel a handler put on his roost so he wouldn't tear up the astroturf.  Puck chittered at anyone who walked by his aviary -- I'm not sure if he wanted them to see his mouse or not.

Since the equinox is around the corner, the birds are getting hormonal.  They're also gaining weight since the days and nights have been warmer.

The burrowing owl, Ra, came out while its aviary was being cleaned out.   I managed to take a zillion photographs of Ra, who seemed very relaxed and curious about the turkey vultures flying in the area.

Ra's handler and I had a brief discussion about who was the cuter, Ra, or Ravi, a Western Screech Owl -- they're both pretty darn cute.

I would have stayed a little longer, but I had to go to Dad Taxi duties.

Birds of Delta Ponds

Sunday, Mark and I went for a walk through Delta Ponds.  They're connected to the Willamette River, so I think that makes them an ox-bough.  The City of Eugene designated them a park, and it's home to water fowl, osprey, nutria, and otters.  We were hoping to see the otters we saw last Thursday, but we didn't.

Mark was better at spotting birds than I was, possibly because he thinks to look up, and I am usually looking at where my feet are going or am trying to frame a photo in my camera.  We weren't quite sure what this wood duck was at first because it was up in the trees.

Normally, we visit Delta Ponds in the evening, so we had to travel to the east side of the ponds to get good light and color on the birds.  This is my favorite shot of a red-winged black bird -- I like their call, too.

This is not a robin, it's a... um... oh, darn -- I'll have to ask Mark again.

 Across the lakes we saw a nutria at the edge of Goose Island.  Or a Goose Island.  This part of the ponds had Sentinel Geese, standing on every promontory and apparently keeping watch over the waters -- this one came down to see what the nutria was up to.

I think the Sentinel Geese were incubating eggs. 










Duck Butt!

 When we started our hike, we walked under an osprey platform.  Photographing it was tricky and I too a few bad shots of it.  Coming back, Mark saw another osprey snacking on a fish.  We would have liked to have seen it fishing, but watching it eat was cool, too.

Of course, I had to trick my camera into focusing on the osprey and not the branches, and there are many deleted photos of twigs and trees in the foreground.

We left the ponds, lingering for a moment to see if the otter might show, but it didn't.  In the distance, the osprey continued its meal.