Are There Fallow Deer in the Promised Land?

Yesterday on a lark I decided to visit a local attraction called the Promised Land Zoo. I live near a tourist destination and its surrounded by attractions. Having grown up in the ultimate tourist destination, Las Vegas, I’m typically skeptical of attractions – but this one did not disappoint. It had a sweet petting zoo at the entrance followed by a driving tour that covered over 100 acres. Hundreds of animals graze in the open fields of the meadows below the highway entrance. I was especially taken with the fallow deer.

Fallow deer are native to Eurasia and have been exported to every continent with the exception of Antarctica. They are relatively small – except for the older bucks they are about the size of a large goat.

There are 4 varieties of fallow deer. This guy is one of the common variety. He approached the driver’s side of my jeep, looked me in the eye…

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Then bowed and raised his head up high.

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He bowed and raised his head over and over until we moved on.

It is said that the Romans imported fallow deer to Europe and the Normans brought them to Britain.

These are the menil variety, they have spots like the fawns of the American whitetail all summer long no matter their age. The white spots mimic the play of light through the trees in the woods. These make up the largest portion of the herd at the zoo.

These young fawns seemed to have a natural curiosity about the jeep. They did not rush over towards the jeep, but they did start wandering my way each time I stopped the vehicle.

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The young bucks have simple spikes for the first couple of years.

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After their third year they develop palmate antlers similar to those on caribou.

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All of the adult males seem to have this same curved neck that resembles an Adam’s apple.

There are historic herds of fallow deer in Sweden that date back to the 1600’s.

This buck is of the menalistic variety. He approached the passenger side eagerly. He stopped short about 6 feet from the jeep and started to throw poses my way.

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The approach…

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The stare down…

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The profile…

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Turning on the charm.

The fourth variety is leucistic – a white variety that is not albino.

Seeing this buck lying on the grass it occurred to me that these deer look like something out of a renaissance etching or coat of arms. They are small and approachable, but they are almost regal. Large piercing eyes, huge antlers, and a dramatic and curvy shape. To my American eye they seem just a bit exotic.

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I read last night that they are easily tamed…

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Driving through this herd I would not call them tame, but they are quite curious…

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I was in their territory, so they walked over to check me out…

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And calmly looked me over.

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There is something sweet about their nature. They don’t seem to be on alert like the local white tails.

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This is a nursing fawn in the petting area. She is bottle fed and is incredibly tame….

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When she grows up she will rejoin the herd in the Promised Land.

The Boys are Back – a Third Chance for Elk in Arkansas

At the dawn of the 19th century, settlers in Arkansas found themselves in a land of amazing biodiversity. Vast herds of elk roamed the hills and hollows of the Ozarks. Those settlers saw the ancient forests as expendable resources. They harvested the timber and exported it to their neighbors to the north and they hunted the great eastern elk into extinction. By 1840 there were no elk left in the Ozarks.

For almost a century the sound of the bugle was gone from the meadows along the Buffalo River. In 1933 11 Rocky Mountain Elk were transplanted to Arkansas. They thrived in the same meadows where they had lived since before the coming of the white man. The Wapiti were once again roaming in those ancient meadows. Those 11 transplanted elk grew into a sustainable herd of over 200 animals.

By 1955 the elk had completely disappeared once again. The destruction of their habitat and poaching lead to the complete devastation of the restored herd.

In 1981 the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission attempted a second restoration. Over the next 4 years 112 elk were gradually transplanted into Newton County along the banks of the Buffalo.

Today a healthy and monitored herd of over 500 populate 5 counties. Almost a hundred live in the Boxley Valley alone.

Here are some shots I took this weekend of bulls in Boxley Valley, near the Buffalo River.

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This is George – at least that’s what I call him. I have seen him in this same spot before. His antlers are a bit crooked, but they look better than they did last year. Bulls shed their antlers every winter so this years growth looks a bit more symmetrical that they were when I saw him last. He also is a bit knock kneed on his rear legs. He seems to like it here in front of the creek. He grazes and poses for the early morning photogs and spotters who fill the valley. From the look of his antlers I would guess that he is 3-4 years old.

 

 

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This is a great old fellow. He is simply enormous, but he seems to lack the bulk of a younger bull. Most bulls live about 6 years, the oldest known bull in Arkansas was 15. Their antlers start to decline in size around 10 or 12 years of age, so I’m guessing he’s somewhere north of 10.

 

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He’s over 5 feet tall at the shoulders so the depth of the grass in this meadow is pretty amazing, almost like it was designed to feed animals of this size.

 

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He had three females in his harem. The cow behind him had wandered off so he circled around her and guided her back to a safe spot near the treeline.

 

 

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This is a pair of youngsters I spotted alongside the road. They have the antlers of a 2-year-old. Spindly without definite points. They were off alone away from the females – bachelors. Elk are very social and males like this tend to live in small groups away from the cows and calves.

 

 

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This isn’t a great shot – it was into the sun and a pretty far distance off, but I include it to show the size of a bull towards the end of his prime. I got the chance to hear him bugle for the ladies in the meadow about a quarter-mile away.

 

It’s good to see bulls of all ages in the herd. Some of the cows have tracking collars and great care is taken to prevent poaching. The herds placement was established with the assistance of the locals, so they are not seen as pests, but rather as a part of the environment.

It looks like the Natural State got it right this time, third time’s a charm.

Everyone Loves a Parade – Mardi Gras in Eureka Springs

I have done a lot of posts about birds lately so I thought I would change things up. These are a series of shots from last winter taken with what was then a brand new lens – it’s now one of my favorites.

I live in a small village in the Ozarks called Eureka Springs and we love parades! Christmas, St Patty’s, Art’s Festival, VWs, Corvettes, Antique Cars, Diversity, Folk Music and more. Most of our parades are a part of the party we throw for our visitors. We host festivals on dozens of weekends throughout the year. Come see us during VW weekend and we’ll throw a party with a parade and you can be in it! But there’s one party we throw that is unabashedly about us.

In the dead of winter we crown royalty from among our own citizenry and host a week of parties culminated by the annual Eureka Gras Mardi Gras Parade. It’s one of my favorites. Instead of a visitor in a Model T, I get to see our own folk decked out in their best finery with beads-a-plenty. We’re not New Orleans – but that’s OK. Everyone’s welcome, even if you aren’t a Eurekan.

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There’s something uber fancy about adding some beads to any ensemble

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Adding an ostrich feather sets just the right mood.

This year I decided to make myself us only one lens.  No bag, just my camera and a single lens and a strap. I had just gotten a Leica 25mm 1.4 portrait lens and decided it was the one to try out. I shoot a mirrorless M4/3 system so the focal length is equal to double the number so this lens is the equivalent of a “fast 50”.

I love this lens and I love the freedom to just shoot. It was so nice to dive in and out of the crowd and not worry about my equipment. With our parades no one cares if you just jump in so I did and got as close as I could to those in the middle of the action.

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I think this guy might have been a Grand Marshall – I don’t think he got the memo about the dress code.

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I did not realize that I knew this lady until I posted the image on Facebook.

Of course it’s fun to shoot the crowd in between floats. The noise and the crowds make this parade a joy to be a part of and the faces of those in the parade echo those of us who were just watching.

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This is Judy – We both have birthdays near Mardi Gras so it’s just another party.

One of the things I love about this lens is the way it can isolate the subject. Casual portraits are pretty easy to pull off. I love the control I have over the DOF.

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This is my neighbor Lynne – all beads and grins.

As the royal court approaches the beads really start to fly. I was actually hit in the face several times – too busy trying to get the shot to go for the beads.

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A member of the Court tosses beads into crowd.

The next three shots are from a series of a woman who was originally from New Orleans – the gusto she had for the enterprise of tossing beads into the crowd were amazing – these were my favorite shots of the day – Duchess Pamela.

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Wave

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Wind-up

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Follow-through

This Duke can’t quite get the beads free to toss.

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Tangled

This gentleman owns the local Indian restaurant. I love his smile.

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Turbaned Duke

This lens lets you pick a face out of the crowd. This is my friend and co-worker Sharon.

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Beadmobile – the crowd’s looking up because beads are flying down.

This young man was all about the beads – he was focused on grabbing as many as possible.

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This young man was in the crowd with us – his face painting is awesome.

Some of the floats were quite tall so you get a chance to play with the perspective – the King towers above the crowd.

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Here comes the King!

In between the royal floats there were these fellows on bicycles. I love how this lens let me capture the streamers in motion.

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Steampunk Bicyclists follow the royal procession.

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I’m thinking this is a great idea for those who just don’t want to commit to a full sleeve full time.

These kids we part of the Queen’s court – they did the bead tossing for her.

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The Queen’s Helpers hoist beads into the air.

Of course we needed someone to control the crowds and keep the peace.

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A bedazzled officer on crowd control

I typically try to avoid shooting into an overcast sky – but on this day the colors were so bright I shot up to get Alice letting loose.

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Looks like Alice has gone down the rabbit hole and come back with lots of beads.

As the parade ended I got a chance to see some more locals adorned for the day’s events.

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This little guy was worn out. Amazing he could sleep over the brass bands.

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A beaded chapeau

I love the way this lens made me get close. There were moments when I wasn’t just watching the parade, I was in it. Now I don’t consider myself a street photographer – but I do love a parade.

Woody at the Feeder

In my post from yesterday I mentioned a woodpecker feeder. A friend told me about this feeder and it’s pretty simple and ingenious –
1. Take an old log, I used a downed cedar from my woods – drill 1 1/4″ holes about an inch deep around the surface. I specifically drilled the holes on a side that would face the spot where I shoot photos.
2. Attach it to something that will let it stand vertical like a tree – a fence post will do, I attached mine to the large cedar that holds up my pergola.
3. Fill the holes with suet. I also filled the cracks in the log.

My friend says it’s like a social program where you are giving a handout and making the little buggers work for it.

Here’s one of my feeders – nice and rustic…

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Tonight Woody stopped by – first he landed on the top of the pergola .

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He takes a look around to make sure the coast is clear – today he must have been really hungry because my Goldendoodle was sitting about 6 feet away from the feeder watching him.

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He lands and takes another look around…

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Scopes out the situation…

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And digs into that suet.

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He stays vigilant…

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And digs into the suet again.

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See the look of satisfaction on his face?

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He looks like he could use a napkin.

Rat-a-tat-tat – Woody’s Back

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Woodpeckers are shy. This is a red-bellied woodpecker who hangs out in my yard. My suet feeders were up for over 3 months before he dared get close. Here he sits on top of my pergola, deciding whether or not to go for the feeder

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He stayed up there for about 30 minutes checking to see if it was safe. He did this several times before he decided it was safe to try out the suet.

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Eventually his appetite overcame his fear and he made the leap. It was clear right away that he was too much bird for a feeder like this.

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I’ve built him a feeder out of an old dead cedar tree – I have seen him using it, but haven’t managed to catch him with my camera – yet. I drilled 1 1/4″ holes into the log and filled the holes with suet. The little guy loves it, its like his own personal suet tree.

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By far his favorite place is my black walnut tree just off my patio. He paces along the limbs, scouting the feeders and tapping on the old tree.

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He has a distinctive call, it’s really more of a cry. It sounds mournful, sad – in contrast to his chipper face.

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I can hear him in the woods near the house. He flies in long sweeping arcs from tree to tree.

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I hear his tap and I know he’s back.

A Fungus Among Us

Issac came along and pretty much ended a summer of drought in the Ozarks. We didn’t get a lot of rain, but it was a nice slow soaking – 3 inches over a couple of days. My grass came back to life and I considered mowing it for the first time since mid May. I noticed some large white blobs over by my cedar tree while I was clearing limbs while getting ready to mow.

I saw several odd round turban-shaped mushrooms underneath the cedar tree. They were growing in a circle about 6 feet across. A friend told me that this was called a fairy circle, for me it was an excuse to put off mowing another week while I waited to see its progress. It was also an excuse to take some photos of something living. Drought = no wildflowers, no lawn, no color. Imagine my excitement at seeing white blobs!

This shot is misleading – they are not actually larger than my terrier Velcro in the background, but they were quite large. Baseball-sized fungi…

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The fungi surface looked like flan that had been stretched to reveal a plush and fuzzy sub-layer.

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Over the course of the next 24 hours the ball opened and flattened into a disk the size of a salad plate. Perfectly round like one of those parasols you get in a fancy drink, only not so fun and colorful…

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All-in-all they were kind of boring, but you gotta work with what nature gives you. I thought I would try to impose some artsy angles on them to make them appear more dramatic. I got very dirty doing this.

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The details of their gills were pretty amazing – there are spider webs in there, or maybe tiny cob webs – a tiny microcosm…

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This is the view a field mouse or packrat might have as they approach one of these babies – reaching for the sky. I got very dirty getting this shot. I also was bitten by chiggers. There’s nothing I won’t do for art…

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Eye level to a rabbit, if my dogs would let a rabbit get this close.

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Enough already, I’m putting on some calamine and getting out the mower!

Chrome Sweet Chrome

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I’m a car nut – have been since I was a little girl. It’s all my Grandpa’s fault.

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When I was about a year old my Grandpa bought a new car for to celebrate his and Grandma’s 25th wedding anniversary. It was a 1963 Impala Super Sport.

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It’s the very first car I remember riding in.

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I went almost everyplace with my Grandpa when I was young. He was pretty crazy about me and I was crazy about him as well.

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While we would drive along he would play this game with me – I would point out an old car and he would tell me the make, model, and year.

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I could never stump him. He knew the differences in the small bits of trim and chrome that separated a ’49 from a ’50 Chevy or what defined a Pontiac from a Buick made in the same year.

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I learned about Buick portholes, Pontiac chevrons, and Caddy V-crests.

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I learned which hood ornaments were on which models…

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Which models had a Continental Kit…

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I began to look at the details of a car as well as the sweeping lines of the whole.

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My grandfather left his family farm as a young man and got his first job in town painting cars.

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He knew how to care for a car’s paint and I learned to wax a car by watching him wax that Impala nearly every Sunday.

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The miles we spent in that Impala – around town, around the state, all over California, and to Nebraska and back…

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When I was very small I was sure the chrome jockey box in between the front seats was built just for me. Later on trips I thought the indentation of the speaker in the back seat was made as a place for me to rest my head.

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In the mid 60s my grandparents opened an upholstery shop. I learned the meaning of tuck-and-roll and grew to love diamond-tufting.

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Grandpa did a lot of furniture but he specialized in car and airplane upholstery. He told me once that a new convertible top would tighten right up when left up in the desert sun for a few hours…

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That the details of the interior were just as important as those on the outside…

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That a perfect interior was the sign of a well cared for automobile.

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As I entered my teens he planned to pass that lovely Impala on to me, it was finally time for him to buy a new car.

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My folks were having none of it so he reluctantly sold it for twice the price be paid for it.

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I learned to drive the family sedan and the first car I ever owned was the LTD he replaced the Impala with. I bought the car from my Pop who Grandpa had passed it onto a few years earlier. It had not been cared for so well after leaving Grandpa’s driveway so my time with it was short.

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Somewhere along the line I bought an old Jeep, just like one my grandparents had owned when I was a kid. Grandpa insisted on taking me out into the desert to learn to drive it off-road safely.

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I went through a couple of odd cars until I was almost through college. I became obsessed with first generation Mustangs.

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I found one I felt I could not live without, the owner said it was 99% restored – I guess if you didn’t count the engine or interior that he was pretty accurate. My Grandpa gave me a loan to buy it and together we restored it. His arrangement with me was that as long as I graduated from college, the restoration was his gift to me.

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The real gift was much more that parts and paint. It was the time we spent each week and the satisfaction we felt as we saw it come closer and closer to a completed project.

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We scoured junkyards looking for elusive parts. He bought me a buffer to keep the paint looking showroom perfect.

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Every Friday for a year and a half we started a new project. Paint, chrome, AC, carburetor, upholstery – the day we had the carpet installed he sat down next to me in the passenger seat and beamed as he told me it smelled just like a new car.

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It may not have been our beloved Impala, but it was a car we both loved. Each time I drove it I could see him in it.

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I could see his hands in the details. One time after our drive he was concerned about a rattle. When we got home he took a screwdriver and disassembled the dash looking for the source of the noise. He did the same thing on his own car.

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When the time came for me to move on to a new town in a new state I packed up that Mustang. I wept upon leaving him, but took comfort in taking a part of him with me in the car we restored together.

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I kept the Mustang for several years until the snows of the Cascades made it impractical. It was Grandpa who urged me to sell it and buy something safer.

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In the 90s I was restoring a 1967 Buick Riviera. Grandpa gave me some good advice and helped me solve a few technical problems. He also told me when it was time to let it go and move on.

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He advised me on all matters automotive for the rest of his life. He advised me on all matters non-automotive as well. His wisdom and belief in me gave me the courage to try new things – to pursue my dreams, even if they lead me away from him.

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I took these photos yesterday. I was at an annual antique car festival in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

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As I saw the parking lots in our tiny Victorian village filled to overflowing with so many gorgeous old cars that had been lovingly cared for, I thought of the details that Grandpa taught me about…

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I found myself identifying so many of them based just on these details.

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The owners patiently listened as people like me shared our memories of cars gone by.

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There’s something about an old car that brings these memories to the forefront. We all remember the cars of our childhood or the great times we had in cars with friends and loved ones.

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These days I live out in the woods where a classic car is just too impractical – even as a hobby. I miss working on one like I miss my Grandpa.

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When I see an old car that’s been lovingly cared for, no matter what the make or model I think of him.

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But when I see an Impala, it all its splendor, I gasp and am taken back to that place where I sat in the passenger seat alongside the most noble man I ever knew…

Growing up at the Elk’s Lodge

I live about a mile from the local Elk’s Lodge. The lodge sits across the road from a wide open meadow that ends in thick woods. To the east a subdivision runs almost across the meadow. It’s a spot that local white tail deer like to feed. I started taking snaps of the herd about 3 years ago. The first year there were 3 fawns – triplets. I would drive through the meadow on the way home hoping to see them. I noticed on fawn with a small white band just above her nose – she seemed more laid back than the others. She looked me in the eye, she kept grazing if I started to walk towards her with the camera. I named her Doe.

The next year she was back – all grown up. I could recognize her by her calm demeanor and that fine white line just above the black of her nose. When the other deer would turn and run into the woods, she would stay behind and watch me. I made sure to give her some space. I got a few nice snaps, but the distance was just too great.

This spring I upgraded my camera body and the AF is significantly better. My friend is also more comfortable with me. About a month ago I saw her with her own twins – as usual she was not disturbed by my presence…

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I got very close to the three of them and shot for about 20 minutes. I noticed that one twin, the one grazing, takes after mom. No concern for my presence. The other one is more vigilant. It trusts it’s mom, but is not comfortable grazing around me…

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Being respectful of the more cautious twin I stepped back a few feet. When I did the clam twin moved towards me…

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She gave me a nice pose and I noticed something about her – she has the same white stripe on her nose as her mother…

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After a few minutes she licked her chops and turned to leave, not in panic, but to look for a better spot to feed…

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Last week I cruised by the meadow and saw some deer over near the housing development. I drove over to an empty cul-de-sac and saw that it was Doe and her family. She was a ways off by the treeline, but the twins were pretty close to the road. Not wanting to block them from crossing the road to join their mother I got out of my Jeep and approached them from the far side. My laid back friend turned to check me out – she’s growing so fast…

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Her more cautious twin looks me over, but he seems to have a more worried expression.

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The worrywart crossed the road and joined mom. My chill girl shot me a profile shot.

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She’s not worried in the least because Daddy’s home!

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Meet Me at the Fair

Last week was the annual Carroll County Fair.

Before I moved to the Ozarks it had been 30 years since my last forray into fair participation. I had a $50 mustang filly when I was a kid and I rode gymkhana for a couple of years. I also entered my metal and wood shop projects. The ribbons and satisfaction of the fair were very distant memories.

A few years ago some friends mentioned entering paintings and photos in the fair. I didn’t even know that grown-ups could do such a thing. I checked the rules for participation – technically since I haven’t made diddly squat selling prints, I’m an amateur. I’m not sure how I feel about that in light of my zillion years of experience…

I checked out the categories and picked my best shots to print and enter and – voila – ribbons ensued. Did you know they pay you for the ribbons? That first year I made about 16 bucks in cold hard cash – nevermind that I have three times that in printing and mounting. I was a cash award winner! At this rate in about a hundred years I would be categorized as a professional by the Carroll County Fair Board of Trustees.

The very next year I got my first Pen system camera and tried a bunch of artsy things with old lenses from the 70s. I had a new tripod, a new camera, some old glass and a bellows – I shot this…

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Reserve Grand Champion – thank you very much…and I scored 75 bucks! Woooohoooo!

I gave my winnings to Mary Jane my neighbor, it was her flower after all.

For the first couple of years the judges apparently wanted everyone to feel good so they gave out tons of ribbons with no apparent system – the only reason that you might not get one was that you entered your photo in the wrong category. Last year they changed it up. Three places per category. 1st place in each category considered for Grand Champion. Fewer ribbons – less cash – actual judging and results. Some people took this really hard. No ribbon meant that no one liked their work. People took it all too personal. Me, I really could give a rip about the ribbons or the cash – for me it’s about whittling down a years worth of photos to 15-18 pieces that you think are your best. I shoot between 12,000-15,000 photos a year, that’s a lot of whittling.

This year I took home the blue ribbon in 4 of 9 categories, but who’s counting. I bet I make at least 8 bucks! Here’s a few of my shots from this year:

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Our county fair does not have legendary fair food, nothing on a stick. It also boasts no butter sculpture, no live bands, no wristband passes. It does have one room of exhibits that includes fine art, dioramas, cookies, jam, and vegetables – none of which are for public consumption. It’s so odd to see a plates of cookies under Saran wrap sitting on a shelf with a ribbons on them – I wonder if cookie bakers have to prove amateur status?

Anyway, I love going to the fair in spite of its deficiencies – I love going to the fair and taking photos. I’ve already posted my chickens, but I also got a chance to spend some lens time with the goats…

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Of course no fair is complete without carnival rides and for me the perfect time is right after the sun goes down. I actually brought the wrong lens with me, I thought I had my fast portrait lens, instead I had my macro. I think it worked out though. Zipper, Tilt-a-whirl, carousel – these rides never change…

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There’s something sweet and nostalgic about walking through a fair and seeing your neighbor’s best cookies, or watermelons, or chickens, or photos.

The Cards I Have Been Dealt

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I have been feeling a bit snubbed by the local Cardinals. 14 feeders filled daily and nary a cardinal shows their red and black face. The whole point of hanging all those feeders was to get the cardinals close enough to get some nice snaps. Last weekend after the rain I finally got me some cardinal love. Two male cards perched off in the walnut tree and gradually got closer and closer to me.

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The patio where I snap my photos has a pergola overhead that rests on two log columns with stone bases. The two male cards decided to check me out from each side. They scoped out the best places to feed.

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This guy has an epic mohawk!

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This guy popped back into the tree and did his best parrot impression.

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The two guys were joined by this girl who sports her best Angry Birds poses.

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The girl settled in on the arm of a sassafras bench right next to the doorway were I was sitting inside. I saw her reflection in the open glass door and slowly pointed my camera around the corner until I saw her on the LCD. She was less that 3 feet from me.

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She hears my camera click and starts to look around…

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And she spots me.

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She hopped up and turned around and threw me a pose.That girl has a little Cap’n in her.

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In addition to being shy, the cards are just too large for a lot of feeders, I didn’t know this until I had already set up a feeder system. I’ve been looking for a tray feeder, in the meantime they cards have discovered the patio below the feeders – it’s the world’s largest tray feeder and needs no stand.

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I’m glad these guys finally gave me a shot at snapping them.