A family of four cranes were just beginning to break up old family ties so that the parents could start a new brood. There was much hopping and flapping and "WaahaaAA AAA aaaa" evident and then the four of them would continue their progress westward down the street. We now have a lone female who visits for lunch when no one else is on property. I feel a little sorry for her, but not as sorry as I used to feel for the lone teenage boy crane who used to follow me about the yard as if he didn't quite know what to do with himself.
I still can't get the squirrels to trust me enough for me to feed them--but there are plenty who regularly shake down passing couples for treats as they walk by them at the lake. Absolutely enchanting. Small fuzzy, photographable creatures whom I neither need to groom, take to the vet, and/or in any way clean up after.
Love the way that the birds can reach so far being themselves to make sure that everything is in order.
A close-up of the sand crane's face. In it I see determined, clear eye below his scarlet, burpletted crown all the way down through his 6 foot wing span, and two leathery legs each ending in 3 knobby toes. This imperious face becomes very intimidating when the animal decides to fly at you--letting you know that he is in charge. The only answer for such a display is to hop up and down while "AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"-ing and flapping your arms. Especially if you are recognized as one of those whose presence signals the appearance of food, the bird quickly backs off. When we first arrived here in Florida, Brent was counseled by someone at work against feeding the cranes. His wife had gotten in the habit. All went well until she and her husband went on a short vacation and had the grandmother in to babysit. The poor woman was vociferously greeted one morning when she tried to exit the house. The cranes were used to food from the occupant of the house and they followed her ("chased" was the word originally used) and attacked. The cranes were even so bold as to peck at the screened porch door--the grandmother was overwhelmed, helpless against such a sudden and unfamiliar "attack."
Brent warned me and I complied for the first year or two that we were here. After seeing the cranes peacefully waundering about the neighborhood for that time, I decided that I could put some seed out at the end of the driveway. I did have a challenge to my authority once--about 6 months after a pair had made our house one of the regular stops on their daily rounds. That day, the seed was in an area between me and one of the cars parked in the drive way. I walked toward the car--intending to get in and drive away. I suppose that it might have been right before these two birds had mated and begun to hatch their egg/s that season, but--whatever the reason--as I approached the car, the larger of the two birds cried an alarm and hopped into the air, spreading and beating his wings to afford him the largest possible aspect. Nonplussed, I jumped up and screamed an answering bellow, flapping my arms as the bird was doing. He immediately stopped. He settled back down and watched me as I passed by him--just a foot or so away from him as I walked. He took a few steps backward and then, as soon as I was in my car, returned again to eating.
I also had a hard time with another crane. I was planting some flowers in my front yard, across the driveway from where three birds were eating. By this time we were all accustomed to each others' presence and my activities elicited no response from the birds as I began to dig holes and plant my flowers. These were tiny vinca--not much bigger than the palm of my hand. As I worked, the smallest of the three cautiously approached me. The baby (I'm assuming.) watched as I dug and puttered with the flowers. Then, coming to stand just opposite me, it reached down and pulled up the flower that I'd just planted--tossing it into the air and then digging into the newly re-created hole (I suspect following the example of the parents who also poke about in the grass, digging for grubs and worms.). I was not amused. I went and got the plant and returned it to the hole, tamping it down firmly with my hands. The crane approached me again and, again, plucked the flower from its place and tossing it out of the way.
At this point, I had had enough. I walked toward the bird, shooing it away from my plants and towards it parents--still calmly eating on the other side of the driveway. It tried to walk around me, but having had many years of herding children into the car on Sunday mornings, I easily intercepted it and it backed slowly away from me. Thinking that I had made my point, I turned back to finish planting. Not more than a moment later, the crane was back and trying to pull out that same vinca. At this point, I enacted the screaming-hopping-flapping I had learned earlier. The chick got the message and retreated back towards its parents.
It did not come near me again, but the next day I found that one of the flowers I had planted in a different part of the front had been yard snatched from its hole--and the original hole greatly enlarged. I found the poor thing, wildering beside a bush about a yard away from its original place and replanted it. No harm--no foul.
It is weird that if all the photographs that I have taken during our five years in this Florida home, in the last year, about half have been of the cranes that visit--as they come, go, court, follow, and lead each other within the confines of our acre of yard. The other half are of Florida flowers, plants, insects, animals and reptiles. Meg and La are far away doing their own things in their own families. Nathan is grown about as much as he's going to grow and, since I know his habits and routines, not really all that enthralling a subject to follow about with my camera.
It had to happen, though. I have finally have begun to find things other than my children to fill my "nest". Though I talk to Megan (hearing Jon in the background "KA! KA!") and Lauren (hearing her lovebird Mango screeching for attention in the background) at least three or four times a week, those few minutes are far from enough to keep my day full. So, I fill a bit of it with photographing the place where I live and the plants that I grow and the creatures that I am able to watch. Not so much an empty nest--just one filled with other eggs.
This is one of my favorite pictures of Lauren and Adam when they were just engaged. It was in February, in Utah, in the backyard of the home that Adam shared with some other young men (and a cat named Skeet). The light was weird enough that none of the shots came out that day. Now, however, with the magic of Photoshop, I have been able to compensate for my ignorance as a photographer and the unsteady light of the late afternoon . . . voila! In 2010, I finally have a good image of them back in 2006.
This is a picture of Roo in her "baggy" position. It reminds me of the illustrations in Peter Rabbit when he is looking for a way out of Mr. McGregor's garden.
This is the stack of Eyewitness Books that squashed the flowers that I will take to my Plant Identification class to put in my collection to get a good grade. 
