Category: Landscape

Tuxedos on Tour: Three Majestic Mergansers

Join the escapade as you witness three majestic Mergansers, donning nature’s finest tuxedos, in a graceful ballet on the springtime stage of Cayuga Lake.

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As you gaze upon these three fine feathered fellows, all members of the exclusive Common Merganser men’s club, they seem to glide upon the watery stage of Cayuga Lake with all the confidence of Broadway stars on opening night. They are the aquatic equivalent of a sharply dressed barbershop quartet, minus one, in their matching tuxedos, ready to sing the springtime serenade of their species.

The chap at the forefront is Captain Black-Crest, sporting a glossy noggin that shimmers with an inner light, undoubtedly the envy of every duck on the pond. He’s streamlined and debonair, with a white body that’s as crisp as the first snowfall and a dark back that’s as sleek as a shadow in moonlight. If ducks had monocles and top hats, he’d be first in line.

In the middle, there’s Sir Dapper-Diver, a mirror image of his companion, with a neck as white as the driven snow and a dignified black back that gleams like polished onyx in the dappled sunlight. He’s the quiet achiever of the group, poised and ready to make the plunge into the depths below, proving that style need not be sacrificed for substance.

And to the right, meet Admiral Feather-Finesse. His poise on the water suggests a mastery of the waves, a commander of the current. He carries his elegant attire with an air of grace that only comes with a natural pedigree. In synchronized perfection, he and his brethren form a regatta of refinement, a display of nature’s own black-tie affair.

These are male Common Merganser (Mergus merganser) in breeding plumage, characterized the body white with a variable salmon-pink tinge, the head black with an iridescent green gloss, the rump and tail grey, and the wings largely white on the inner half, black on the outer half. Like the other mergansers, these piscivorous ducks have serrated edges to their bills to help them grip their prey, so they are often known as “sawbills”. In addition to fish, they take a wide range of other aquatic prey, such as molluscs, crustaceans, worms, insect larvae, and amphibians; more rarely, small mammals and birds may be taken. As in other birds with the character, the salmon-pink tinge shown variably by males is probably diet-related, obtained from the carotenoid pigments present in some crustaceans and fish. When not diving for food, they are usually seen swimming on the water surface, or resting on rocks in midstream or hidden among riverbank vegetation, or (in winter) on the edge of floating ice.

Together, these three Common Mergansers (Mergus merganser) in their prime are a trifecta of elegance, a testament to the timeless beauty found in nature’s simplicity. They paddle forth with purpose, their matching plumage a striking contrast to the rippling blues and grays of the water, a parade of poise and plumage that delights the observant eye.

So, dear reader, as you observe this photo, take a moment to appreciate the charming uniformity and the subtle quirks that make each bird, despite their shared wardrobe, uniquely magnificent. It’s a snapshot of life at its most graceful, a picture worth far more than a mere thousand words.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Spring Renewal and the Buoys of Change

As you glimpse the strewn buoys at Cayuga’s shore, consider the tales they hold—witnesses to history, guiding vessels through New York’s storied waters. Delve into their journey from the Erie Canal’s birth to today’s spring awakening.

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As the crisp air of spring begins to soften and the last remnants of winter recede, you might find yourself drawn to the outdoors, eager to participate in the age-old tradition of spring cleaning. It is a time of renewal, of clearing away the old to make way for the new. In Ithaca, this period of rejuvenation extends beyond the confines of cluttered homes and into the expansive natural landscape, as shown in the photograph before you.

Spring cleaning and repair at the Alan H. Treman Marine Boat Park. Ithaca, New York, Tompkins County

Tidying the Shores


There, on the shores of Cayuga Lake, the scene is a stark contrast to the neat rows of daffodils you admired yesterday. Instead, navigation buoys, those steadfast guides of the waterways, lie upended and scattered – casualties of the winter’s harshness or perhaps the diligent work of park employees preparing for the upcoming boating season. These buoys, usually afloat, marking safe passage for vessels, are now being tended to, maintained, and readied. It is an essential process, akin to the annual spring clean, ensuring the safety and smooth sailing in the months to come.

Guardians of the Waterways


Let’s delve into the history these buoys are part of. You, as a curious observer, are witnessing a fragment of a narrative that stretches back over a century. These navigational buoys are descendants of the earliest markers that adorned the inland waters of New York State and the Erie Canal, of which Cayuga Lake is an integral part.

The Erie Canal and Cayuga’s Connection


The Erie Canal, an engineering marvel of the 19th century, opened in 1825, transforming New York and the entire Great Lakes region. It was the superhighway of its time, connecting the Atlantic Ocean to the Great Lakes, and thereby shaping the course of economic and social history in the United States. Cayuga Lake, connected to this system via the Cayuga-Seneca Canal, was part of this vast network of navigable waters.

Navigation Buoys: Beacons of Progress


As commerce flourished, so too did the need for reliable navigation. The buoys, then as now, served as critical signposts, ensuring that vessels could traverse these waterways safely. Imagine the countless boats that relied on these markers – from the large freighters carrying goods to the smaller craft bearing passengers – each buoy a sentinel ensuring their safe passage.

Modern Sentinels


Today, the navigation buoys on Cayuga Lake and other inland waters continue this legacy. They are the modern sentinels of the deep, equipped with the latest technology to guide the way. Just as the Erie Canal once heralded a new era of travel and trade, these buoys now symbolize the enduring importance of safe and efficient water transportation.

The Future of Inland Navigation


As you reflect upon the photograph, consider the ongoing narrative of these buoys and the waterways they mark. In a world increasingly concerned with sustainable modes of transportation, the historical importance of these channels resurfaces. The waterways that once fueled the expansion of a nation may once again play a pivotal role, this time in the quest for greener alternatives to overland routes.

Conclusion: A Cycle of Renewal


The upturned buoys in Cass Park, ready for their spring cleaning, are a microcosm of the cyclical nature of life and progress. They remind you that renewal is not just about beauty; it is also about preserving the functionality and safety that allow society to move forward. Just as the spring cleaning in your home ushers in a new season of clarity and freshness, the maintenance of these navigational aids renews the commitment to a legacy of safe passage – a promise made by the generations that have sailed these waters since the days of the Erie Canal.

A Path Lined with Promise: Spring’s Embrace in Ithaca

Happy April 1, 2024

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You find yourself on the cusp of spring, the earth slowly awakens from its wintery slumber, and life begins to stir in the subtlest of forms. Imagine strolling through a park in Ithaca, the evidence of spring’s tender handiwork unfolding before your eyes. As you traverse this liminal space where the grey of winter meets the vibrant hues of spring, you are greeted by a cheerful brigade of daffodils, a sure harbinger of warmer days.

These daffodils are blooming along the Cayuga Waterfront Trail within Cass Park, Ithaca, Tompkins County, New York

Through the above image, it’s as though you are leaning in, your gaze just inches above the blooms. These daffodils are not merely flowers; they are the golden trumpets of spring, each one a burst of joy amidst the still-dormant earth. You can almost feel the softness of the petals, the coolness of the air, and the promise of renewal that each bud encapsulates. With their faces eager to bask in the strengthening sun, they seem to resonate with your own readiness for change, for the fresh possibilities that each new season brings.

As you stand up and take a few steps back, the following image grants you a wider perspective. Here lies a path, winding gently alongside a burgeoning line of daffodils. They stand in unity, a vivid yellow line drawn against the canvas of awakening green. The bench in the distance is vacant, an invitation to sit and appreciate the tranquility of Cass Park, the expanse of water beyond serving as a mirror to the open sky. It’s a scene that calls for contemplation, urging you to appreciate the simplicity of the moment, the serenity of nature’s process.

These daffodils are blooming along the Cayuga Waterfront Trail within Cass Park. Here the trail has passed over Linderman Creek and we are looking toward the Cayuga Lake inlet. Ithaca, Tompkins County, New York

These photographs are more than visual delights; they’re sensory experiences. Can you hear the subtle sounds of the park? The distant call of birds returning home, the soft rustle of grass stirred by a gentle breeze, the hushed murmur of water lapping at the shore? Each sound is a note in the symphony of spring, played just for you.

The images you see are not frozen in time; they carry within them a narrative of life’s perseverance. The daffodils, with their bright faces and sturdy stems, have weathered the cold, the snow, and the frost. They emerge, not just as survivors of winter, but as its conquerors. Each flower is a testament to resilience, a living metaphor for the human spirit that you, too, possess.

This is the season of rejuvenation, where the old is shed, and the new embraced. With each day, the sun lingers a bit longer, casting its golden glow upon the earth. It’s the time to set aside the grayness of yesterday and look forward to the spectrum of tomorrow. The photographs are not just to be viewed; they are to be felt, to remind you that no winter lasts forever, no spring skips its turn.

As you walk away from this scene, you carry with you the warmth of the sun and the cheer of the daffodils. Let the images serve as a reminder of the perennial cycle of life, the undying hope, and the enduring beauty that awaits just outside your door. Feel encouraged to seek these moments, these fragments of beauty, in your everyday wanderings, and hold onto the message of the daffodils: after every winter, no matter how harsh, comes the gentle kiss of spring.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Long Ride

An expert surfer takes a wave

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An expert surfer takes a wave near Jetty Pier Park, Cape Canaveral, Florida. Taken with an Apple IPhone 8.

Click video to start. To do this from WordPress Reader, you need to first click the title of this post to open a new page.

Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills

Nature’s First Green….

…is gold, / her hardest hue to hold, / her early leaf’s a flower; / but only so an hour… Robert Frost

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You walk alone by the waters of Cayuga Lake in Stewart Park, nestled in the heart of Ithaca’s Finger Lakes, where Salix alba, the white willow, stands proudly along the shoreline. You’re immediately drawn to the flurry of yellow flowers, a stark contrast to the still chilly early March air.

The white willow (Salix alba), with its rough, gray bark, is beginning to dress in its spring finery, its branches teeming with tiny, starburst-like flowers. Each one is a miniature sun, casting a glow against the intricate lattice of branches. These aren’t the soft catkins of the pussy willow but the yellow inflorescences that are characteristic of the white willow’s early bloom, a signpost that winter’s grip is loosening.

These trees, you learn, are dioecious, with separate male and female trees. The blossoms you see are likely the male flowers, their stamens dusting your fingers with pollen as you brush against them. It’s this pollen that will soon beckon the bees, urging them to emerge from their hives and begin the work that sustains the ecosystem. You can almost hear the faint buzz, a prelude to the symphony of life that summer will bring. Return in midsummer to find the female catkins comprise numerous small (4 mm) capsules, each containing numerous minute seeds embedded in silky white hairs, which aids wind dispersal.

As you wander further, you note the presence of the white willow’s kin, other deciduous companions some still bare and stretching into the sky and others leafing out. You stand there, at the cusp of seasonal change, where the slumbering trees are on the verge of awakening, and you feel a kinship with them. Like these trees, you have weathered the cold, dark months, and now you stand poised to greet the renewal that comes with spring.

The stark, knotted forms of the white willow branches against the clear sky speak to you of endurance and resilience. These trees have weathered storms and droughts; they have been companions to the lake, mirrors to its moods, and now they are beginning to celebrate the cycle of rebirth and growth.

You take a seat on a bench, the cool wood through your clothes a reminder of the lingering winter. You gaze out across the lake, the water reflecting the brilliance of the sun like a vast, rippling mirror, framed by the elegant silhouettes of the white willows. You feel the peace of the park seep into you, the slow, rhythmic lapping of the water syncing with your breath.

This is a moment of transition, from the sleeping to the awakening world. You think about the Salix alba, how its presence here is a testament to nature’s adaptability, thriving in the moist soil by the lake, offering shade in summer and shelter in winter, its branches a playground for the winds.

As you leave Stewart Park, you take with you the memory of the white willows in early March, the quiet guardians of Cayuga Lake. They remind you of the enduring beauty of nature, the seamless flow from one season to the next, and the quiet joy of standing witness to the first whispers of spring on the shores of the Finger Lakes.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Rough Surf

beyond belief

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Waves built from onshore wind, fast, steady overnight, through the day from early morning until sunset. Pam and I adapted with a revisit to the Sands Space History Museum, Cape Canaveral just outside the Air Force Station. Click this link for a previous posting, “Cape Canaveral Lighthouse,” first of a series. This post header is a vintage gumball machine from the lobby.

By sunset the waves were roaring. Viewing from the safe distance of our condo porch we spied two surfers incredibly among the waves, taking rides. Waiting and attempting a ride. You can see for yourselves the two tiny dots of humanity, appearing and hidden among the waves. I spot them first and Pam does not believe me, I do not blame her. It is beyond my comprehension people are out there. I cannot recommend the quality of the video from my IPhone, our comments are humorous.

It is difficult, Pam is astounded when they come into view.

He rises briefly only to wipe out in this brief video.

One surfer emerges as his partner persists.

Click this link to visit “Cocoa Beach Kite Skating” on my blog.

Copyright 2024 All Right Reserved Michael Stephen Wills Photography

Saint Patrick’s Return to the Hill of Tara

The year 2000 AD return of Saint Patrick to the Hill of Tara. Happy Saint Patrick’s Day

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To continue my posting “Climb Hill of Tara” my first submission of three Hill of Tara photographs to Getty Istock had two of the photographs returned for revision.

A statue of Saint Patrick fittingly welcomes visitors to the Hill of Tara, County Meath, Ireland. This statue of cast concrete was an existing statue donated by the Sisters of Charity, moved from an existing installation to the Hill of Tara in the year 2000 AD. The creator is anonymous, the is no plaque or other attribution on or around the statue.

The original statue was erected on the summit of the Hill of Tara shortly after Catholic emancipation in 1829, commemorated the events of 433AD when St. Patrick lit a bonfire on the nearby hill of Slane on the eve of Easter Sunday.

Lighting such a fire was contrary to the pagan laws of the time which dictated that the first fire lit that night be in Tara. Observing St. Patrick’s bonfire from afar, the chief druid of the ancient Gaelic capital predicted that if the flame were not extinguished that night, Christianity would never be extinguished in Ireland.
The saint’s bonfire continued burning and the next morning, Easter Sunday, St. Patrick entered Tara to convert the king and his followers to Christianity.

For the fenced statue of Saint Patrick the revieweR wrote:

Please provide a full description for the work of art featured in this image. Include the artist, date of creation, location, etc. Works of art created by someone other than yourself must be free of copyright protection to be considered. If this work of art is indeed under copyright protection, a property release signed by the copyright holder will need to be provided.

Hmmmm….What I do while capturing a photograph of a statue is take photos of any plaque, sign, whatever to acquire the name of the creator, how it came to be there, community connections. There was nothing around the statue nor the very informative Office of Public Works placards at the entrance.  I was proud to submit the statue photograph, as it turned out so well, and hoped for the best.

Last week, I put in a query to Ireland’s Office of Public Works (OPW), the agency responsible for the Hill of Tara, and did not receive a response when, for other queries, they were helpful.  This Saturday and Monday mornings, several hours of internet research revealed this history.

The original statue was placed on Tara sometime after the 1829 Catholic emancipation.  It was molded concrete, created by Thomas Curry of Navan at his own expense to honor the connection of Saint Patrick to Tara.

The OPW removed Curry’s statue 1992 for repair of a century of wear.  During the removal the statue was damaged beyond repair and, afterwards, was further damaged by vandals who decapitated and used it for target practice.

Initially, the OWP decided not to replace Saint Patrick citing the “pagan” nature of the place. After an angry meeting of local people at the Skryne Parish Hall.  In this meeting the local Rathfeigh Historical Society formed the “Committee to Restore St. Patrick to Tara.”  In turn, pressure was put on Michael D. Higgins, Minister for Arts, Culture and the Gaeltacht (and the OPW). It was decided a new statue was to be created, based on a competition, and instead of it former place at the hill summit (called Rath na Rí), it was to be near the entrance, outside the Interpretative Center, to offer a Céad Míle Fáilte to visitors and be seen on departure.

The outcome was the competition winner was rejected by locals.  The winning entry, by sculptor Annette Hennessy, did not follow competition rules that specified the statue incorporate traditional features to include shamrocks, harp, miter, a crozier and, perhaps, fleeing snakes. Hennessy’s design was of a shaven headed teenage boy in a short (“mini-skirt”) kilt, a handbag-shaped bell in hand.  She agreed hers was “not a traditional style statue” saying it “acknowledges our Pagan Celtic history.”

The rejection included a statement from Dr. Leo Curran, chairman of the Rathfeigh Historical Society, “We agreed that most of the monuments in Tara are from the pre-Christian era, but St. Patrick should be at the uppermost layer, representing Christian tradition extinguishing paganism.”

By this time, a new government and minister were in place.  The decision was made to search Ireland to find a suitable, existing, replacement statue.  By 2000 the present statue, donated by the Sisters of Charity, was in place at the Hill of Tara entrance.

At the end of this post I provide the two references from my internet research and from which many facts and all the quotes were used here.  I concluded the statue author was anonymous without copyright protection and submitted a revised image description, attaching a copy of my research.

What happened to my IStock photograph of Saint Patrick on the Hill of Tara? Getty accepted my application, published the photo and it is one of my top downloads, and earners.

Please browse my reasonably priced stock photography.  License a photograph, download and use it for your website or blog.  Click this link to browse all my Getty IStock Photography offerings.

Or click this link or any photograph or this link to select a print with custom framing from my “Ireland” Fine Art Gallery.

References :
“Should St Patrick stand again on Tara?” Independent, Dublin, Ireland March 17, 1999.
“Statue of Saint Patrick”, Meath Roots web site. The page includes photograph of the Thomas Curry statue.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Tidal Wetlands

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The exposed mudflats on tidal wetlands attract a variety of shorebirds. Shorebirds are seasonal residents that make long migratory journeys between their breeding grounds in the Arctic and their wintering areas in South America. Merritt Island NWR provides an important resting and feeding area for this group of birds. Some stay for the winter, and others use the refuge as a fuel stop before continuing on their journey.

In tidal areas, shorebird feeding schedules are influenced by the cycle of the tides. Changes in tidal cycles expose foraging areas in mudflats for a period during the day. At other points during the cycle, the water in these same areas becomes too deep or the ground too dry for shorebirds to feed effectively.

Shorebirds of different species can and do forage together. Because bill length and shape varies from species to species, birds can pursue different prey in the same area at the same time without competing with each other. Because of varying bill lengths, the different bird species find their food at different depths in the substrate. Mixed species of shorebirds are a common sight.

Reference: the text of this blog was transcribed from signage along the Blackpoint Wildlife Drive of Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, Brevard County, Florida

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved.

Avian Exploration

Join us in the tranquility of Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge as we observed avian life, reflecting on nature’s beauty and resilience.

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As my wife, Pam, and I entered the breezy expanse of the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, the world seemed to slow down, allowing us to savor every moment of my journey along Blackpoint Drive. The sky, a sprawling canvas of muted greys, reflected in the wind ruffled waters, enhancing the tranquility of this haven.

Our first encounter was with the elegant Roseate Spoonbills (Platalea ajaja), their vibrant pink feathers a stark contrast against the earthy tones of the marsh. They waded with purpose, their spoon-shaped bills sifting through the water, a dance of survival that was both methodical and beautiful.

In the company of the spoonbills were the stoic Great Egrets (Ardea alba), statuesque in their white plumage. They stood motionless, like sentinels guarding the water’s edge, only to strike with lightning speed when prey ventured too close.

We watched as the Glossy Ibises (Plegadis falcinellus) dipped their curved bills into the water, each movement a study of precision, their dark feathers glistening with an iridescent sheen when caught by the light.

Amongst these avian aristocrats, the unassuming American White Ibises (Eudocimus albus) went about their business. Their red beaks probed the shallows, unperturbed by the presence of their more colorful neighbors or by my watchful eyes.

As we ventured further, the landscape shifted, the water opening up to reveal a gathering of Spoonbills and White Ibises, a community united by the need to feed and the safety of numbers. The occasional flap of wings and contented calls created a symphony that celebrated life in these wetlands.

Isolation took on a new meaning when I spotted a solitary Roseate Spoonbill, its reflection a perfect mirror image on the water’s surface. It was a moment of quiet introspection, the bird and I alone in our thoughts.

Another scene captured my attention as a single spoonbill foraged alongside a Glossy Ibis. The two species, different in appearance and yet similar in their quest for sustenance, shared the space in harmonious coexistence.

Further along, the vista opened up, and we were greeted by a panoramic view of spoonbills dotted along the distant shoreline, the greenery forming a lush backdrop to their pink hues. The expanse of the refuge unfolded before me, a reminder of the vastness and the wild beauty that had drawn us here.

On another stretch, the spoonbills perched in the green embrace of the mangroves, their pink feathers a burst of color among the leaves. It was a scene of natural artistry, the birds blending yet standing out against their verdant stage.

In the final leg of our journey, I found spoonbills perched high in the shrubbery, a testament to the refuge’s diversity. Even in the dense foliage, life thrived, and these birds, usually seen wading, now adorned the treetops like living ornaments.

This drive along Blackpoint was more than a mere observation; it was a passage through a world where time held little sway, and nature was the sole architect. Each bird, each ripple on the water, and each whisper of the grass told a story of existence, resilience, and the intricate web of life. Here, in this secluded corner of the world, we found a connection to the earth and its inhabitants that would stay with us long after.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Otherworldly Assembly?

On the winding Blackpoint Wildlife Drive, Pam and I were spellbound by a ballet of Roseate Spoonbills and Wood Storks, a wild canvas coming alive, revealing the magic bestowed by our cherished Senior Passport

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As Pam and I embarked on our journey along the Blackpoint Wildlife Drive we found ourselves privy to an otherworldly marshland assembly. Our eyes were drawn to the stately Wood Storks, or Mycteria americana, standing with a poise that belied their somewhat awkward appearance. Their towering figures were hunched in contemplation, their bald heads surveying the waters for a potential feast.

Beside them Roseate Spoonbills (Platalea ajaja) painted the landscape with strokes of vivid pink. Their spoon-shaped bills, an evolutionary masterpiece, skimmed the shallow waters. It was a delightful contrast, the elegant pink plumage among the grasses, like a splash of paint on a raw canvas.

Companion to these gentle giants, the diminutive Tricolored Heron, Egretta tricolor, stalked the shallows. Its slender form was a study in grace, and the blue-gray feathers shimmered with a hint of lavender as it moved with stealthy precision, a silent hunter amidst the reeds.

The discovery felt like stumbling upon a secret meeting, a council of the feathered kind, where each bird played its role in the delicate balance of the ecosystem. Pam and I shared a look of awe, our whispered words lost in the gentle rustling of the wind. There was a sense of unity, of different species coexisting in harmony, and we were the transient witnesses to their world.

Our journey within Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge was not just a passage through land but through time. Each turn of the drive revealed another chapter of this living story, and our hearts raced with the excitement of what we might find next. The National Park Service Senior Passport, which we clutched like a treasure map, granted us the privilege to explore this bounty of nature. It was more than a pass; it was a key to worlds unseen and adventures untold.

As senior citizens, this passport to nature’s sanctuaries was a reminder that wonderment has no age. It afforded us the freedom to explore, to learn, and to lose ourselves in the beauty of our nation’s natural heritage. Each stamp in our passport was not just a mark of where we had been, but a memory etched into our lives, a story waiting to be told.

This drive, with Pam by my side, was more than birdwatching. We communicated with nature, laying testament to the beauty that lay in the simple things, the everyday miracles of life that often go unnoticed. We left the Blackpoint Wildlife Drive with a renewed sense of purpose and a reminder of our place in this vast, interconnected web of life.

We returned home with our spirits lifted and our minds filled with the colors of the birds—the Wood Storks, the Roseate Spoonbills, the Tricolored Heron—and the many unnamed creatures that had crossed our paths. It was a mosaic of life, each creature a piece that completed this intricate puzzle of existence. Our encounter with this unusual congregation was a gift, a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, a chapter in our ongoing adventure, one we would recount with smiles and a sparkle in our eyes for years to come.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved