Monday, April 27, 2015
I wasn't even going to carry my camera. It was pretty quiet in the morning and it carried over into the evening. I saw Jim O'Brien coming from the opposite direction and we agreed ... it was quiet. There wasn't even a single Yellow-rumped Warbler. However, other subjects soon began to appear out of light and reflections of light—translucent leaves, thousands of tiny flies. Then the Barred Owl called and a Belted Kingfisher rattled over to its perch above the creek, breaking the silence for a short time. The quiet was utterly enjoyable and even a Wood Duck was quiet for a change. The soundless sun sank into the west and in hushed tones the critters under the moon told me to return in the morning.
Naturally, I will.
All images © 2015 Mike McDowell