"A Friend May Well Be Reckoned..."

                  

Anne Young at Work at Monkey Forest Park

My first question to Anne Young after I'd read this story and her biographic sketch was, "When ever do you sleep?" As a regional banking Executive in Asia, and an avid and extremely talented (and ubiquitous)  semi-professional photographer, there just aren't enough hours in a day.  "VERY late nights!" was her three-word answer. 

This brief tale, "A Friend May Well be Reckoned the Masterpiece of Nature," warmly illustrates, both in prose and photography, Anne's deep love and respect for wildlife, as well as her relentless efforts to support the preservation of wild animals worldwide.  I'm sure you'll enjoy it as much as I have.  Anne currently resides in Singapore and travels extensively in Asia.



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Thanks for stopping here to see the latest post. I'd love to know what you think of the "Relentless Pursuit" series. If you enjoyed this week's tale, I would greatly appreciate it if you left a comment (at the end of the post) for our author.  And please email me with your suggestions on what you'd like to see on this blog or anything else you'd like to share. Also, to increase the blog's readership, click the green SU icon at the bottom of this post to recommend the blog to Stumble Upon members. It will dramatically increase the "exposure" of our authors' work.  Sharing the link with your friends, family, and colleagues would also help a great deal.

If you have a story you would like to share on this theme, contact me. And be sure to take a look at my Photography site. I'd love to hear from you! Thanks again!

--

  Michelle Alton

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"A Friend May Well be Reckoned the Masterpiece of Nature"*
     

* Ralph Waldo Emerson

Story and photographs by Anne Young

Monkey Forest park in Ubud, Bali Indonesia is a nature reserve and temple complex. It houses approximately 350 crab eating macaques.

The forest comprises approximately a tenth of a square kilometer (approximately 27 acres) and contains at least 115 different species of trees. The Monkey Forest contains the Pura Dalem Agung Padangtegal temple as well as a "Holy Spring" bathing temple and another temple used for cremation ceremonies.

Temple at Monkey Forest

The Monkey Forest is owned by the village of Padangtegal. The local village members serve on the Monkey Forest's governing council. The park opens at 8.30 and closes around 5pm however it's not enclosed so entry is relatively unrestricted for photographers that love the early morning light. Just pay at one of the booths on the way out as the entry fees go towards the up-keep of the park.

I love this park.  The temples create a serenity seldom found in day to day life. As for the Macaques – if you don’t bring any food  (they can smell it a mile off)  and sit quietly by, they soon accept you as a part of their environment.

I have made over 6 trips to Ubud. The resorts are divine, the people beautiful, and being over an hour up in the hills it is well away from the poorly behaved Western tourists that frequent the beach bars of Kuta.

Back to the Macaques: I wake at sunrise and wander through the park, waiting for the macaques to come down from their evening nests in the trees further up in the hills. There are around four distinct groups led by a dominant male.

Dominant Male Relaxing

On the outside are the bachelor boys.  At first I ignored them, like most photographers do, as less interesting to photograph as the mothers and their captivating babies.

Babies at Play

Mother Macaque with Twins

However these guys have provided the most delightful experiences.

The bachelor boys are quite self-assured - they know they are strong and can protect themselves if needed – certainly from a lady with a camera. They do keep a look out for the dominant male however!

One morning there were no macaques in their favorite spot in the sun; instead two stray dogs from the village were asleep. I wandered off believing that as long as the dogs slept there the macaques would stay well away!  Imagine my surprise when I checked backed – a bachelor boy was sitting astride a sleeping dog, grooming!

Monkey with a Stray Dog, Enjoying the Midday Sun

On my shoulders is a great lookout post and often comes with free grooming as payment. I have only been attacked once in all the hours I have spent with the macaques, and that was by a mother that had just given birth.  I didn’t see her under some bushes in time.

Admiring the View

 Like all juvenile males, they have two things on their mind:  trouble and love!

Trouble comes in many forms.  In Bali two-wheel transport is the most popular way to travel and they just love to climb on a parked bike and play. Often times they are destructive and tear the seat, break mirrors and do other damage so a stone is often thrown from an owner on the look out.

Chewing Motorbik Seat

This guy was fascinated with his own image in the bike mirror.

That's a Beautiful Face in the Mirror

            
It was on one of my wanderings in Monkey forest park that I came across an amazing scene:  A male macaque had taken a stray kitten and was holding it like a baby. I spoke to a researcher who had been studying the macaques for three months, and she told me her group had distracted him and rescued the kitten.  However, the next day macaque and the kitten were back together. There are many stray cats and dogs in Bali and they struggle with rabies outbreaks, so this kitten was most probably dumped around the temple.

I photographed this pair for about an hour. At one stage the monkey decided to move and scooped the kitten up like a baby. How gentle is that hand under its little bottom?

A Quiet Snuggle

A Gentle Lift

Watching Together

A Picnic in the Forest

 In the end he started to get anxious so I left them to their time together.

- 30 -

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  All photographs by Anne Young

Anne's Biographical Sketch

Anne has worked for 30 years in the Banking industry in New Zealand, Australia and Asia. Currently living and working in Singapore and spends her weekends and holidays as a photographer. The weekdays are still dedicated to banking as a senior executive in a regional bank.

Anne loves animal photography; however babies and children are a very close second. She does portraits from which she donates100% of the fee to "Caring for Cambodia" a NGO (non-government organization) that does amazing work building schools across Cambodia.

Further photos can be seen at Anne's website.

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Please Note:  This Blog Needs YOUR Story!

f you have a story to post on this theme, or know anyone who might, contact me, please! We have zero stories on tap at the moment. Give your imagination a stretch--your story can be about any sort of Relentless Pursuit, fact, fiction, poignant, or humorous. I'd love to hear from you and work with you on your story! And we need to keep this theme going! And if you have a few moments, please stop by my web site and have a look around.
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It's All Downhill From Here

Art Rosch

Art Rosch is the second author to be suggested to me by Carolyn Fletcher, and all I can say is "She knows some fantastic writers and fascinating people!

I contacted Art and asked him if he would be interested in participating in "Relentless Pursuits" and he enthusiastically agreed to provide a story!

And WHAT A STORY!  It is truly a tale of  relentless striving for survival!  I am a hopeless acrophobic and have long suffered from a recurring nightmare that is astonishingly close to the true-life nightmare that is described in Art's story "It's all Downhill From Here."

His writing will absolutely rivet you and if you're anything like me, you may even be gasping for breath by the time you reach the end of the story. 

The side story about Art's wife, Fox, is a whole other experience, and one you will not want to miss,  It has stuck in my imagination since my first reading of the story!

By the way, "It's all Downhill From Here" also appears in Art's superb book, Avoiding the Potholes.

--

  Michelle Alton

________________________

Thanks for stopping here to see the latest post. I'd love to know what you think of the "Relentless Pursuit" series. Please leave me a comment below or email me with your suggestions on what you'd like to see on this blog. Also, PLEASE click the green SU icon at the bottom of this post to recommend the blog to Stumble Upon members. It will dramatically increase the "exposure" of our authors' work.

If you have a story you would like to share on this theme, contact me. And be sure to take a look at my Photography site. I'd love to hear from you! Also, consider forwarding the link to "Relentless" to your friends and family. Thanks again!
____________________________________

It's All Downhill From Here
     By Art Rosch - Copyright 2011

Sunset At Fremont Peak. It was just one of those moments.

Sometimes, I wonder why people consider travel to be fun.  There is so much work to be done, so much organization, so many details, so much hurry.  Then, after the hurry, comes boredom and discomfort.  Somewhere in between all this nerve-chewing stuff is the so-called "fun".

My wife Fox and I were attempting to refine the process of travel.  We thought going in an RV was the ideal method.  Regardless of the efforts, we needed to travel!  I’m a photographer, an astronomer.  My goal on this trip was to take long exposure shots of the Milky Way.  I needed dark and pristine skies to achieve my images.

Yosemite Star Trails. Taken at Glacier Point, Yosemite.

Lone Tree In Utah. This is a composite of two photos.
The United Nations Environmental Photography contest gave it
Honorable Mention and included it in its global exhibition.

Fox is an explorer of an entirely new ethnic and genetic landscape.  She found out she was half Apache when she was forty eight years old.  It was a mind-blowing, life altering revelation.

On October 12, 2005, we were ready to hit the road.  I have a prime rule of travel:  try to never take the same road twice.  This time, I wanted to drive down highway 395. 

This is a road of classic views that parallels the eastern slope of the Sierras.  It runs the length of California and beyond, to the Canadian border.  To get there, we had to make a few zigs and a few zags.  Once on 395, we planned to drive south to Bishop, and take Highway 6 across Nevada.

That was the plan.  It looked pretty straightforward.  Executing the plan was another matter.

The first day was one of practice, of getting used to driving our new RV, which we had named Yertle.  She rattled and roared.  At higher speeds she felt like all the  tires were flat.  She was thirty years old.  In car years, that’s about a hundred and five.  Yertle was spry and dignified.  She kept telling me, “Don’t worry, young feller, I’ll get you there and back.  You’ll be safe.”

The RV in this photo is almost identical to Yertle, except we didn't have a boat.

I wanted to believe her.

The day passed without trouble, and we stopped in a campground near Lake Tahoe.
On the second day, we turned onto State Route 89. It was Sunday.  Most traffic was going in the other direction. 

The road was steep and full of hairpin curves.  It was beautiful mountain country, but I was too nervous to enjoy the journey.  My concentration was fixed upon driving Yertle.  We climbed and we curved through dense pine forests and around mountain crags.

Fox Inside Yertle

I began to notice something strange about the steering column.  It felt loose in my hands.  I could pull it this way and that, just a few inches.  I had a bad feeling.  I kept my mouth shut.  I didn’t want to alarm Fox. I didn’t see much alternative but to keep driving, and hope we could get to Bishop.

Road signs indicated our altitude.  We were ascending the western slope of the Sierra, six thousand, seven thousand feet and still climbing. Yertle struggled but kept going. Twenty miles an hour seemed to be her best effort.  If a vehicle came behind me, I let it pass as soon as possible. 

Eight thousand feet.  I had pulled out to let someone pass, and when I tried to get into a lower gear as I pulled back onto the road, I discovered that the entire steering column was rotating as I shifted gears.  I had no idea what gear I was in!  This old Chevy had the gear indicator atop the steering column in a plastic window.  An arrow moved with the shift lever and it showed the usual letters: P, R, N, D, D 1, and D2.  When I pulled toward the right, the plastic window came along with the steering column. The only thing I knew was that we were going forward.  I was terrified to shift back to the left.  I might throw Yertle into Reverse and destroy the transmission in a grinding calamity.

What a mess!  We had spent so much money. It was the most significant investment in the span of our relationship.  If Yertle broke down, it would break our hearts.  We were living and traveling on the slimmest margin.  We didn't have the cash for a major overhaul.

There was of course a more immediate terror: steering! 

Eight thousand feet.  We were coming through a place called, of all things, “Dead Man’s Pass”.  Nine thousand one hundred feet. By this time, I could swirl the steering column a foot and a half in any direction.  Yertle continued to steer, praise the lord.  I steered with my right hand, and with my left, attempted to stabilize and reinforce the column. 

Our problem was no longer a secret from Fox. 

Yet she was calm.  “The Grandmothers say we will reach Arches.”

Let me explain.  Since her family revelation, Fox had done much diligent study of her traditions, and had met a number of teachers.  She attended healing circles, ceremonies, and her gifts of intuition and vision had been growing.  One of her mentors guided her towards the presence of a group of spirit guides, female ancestors and keepers of wisdom:  The Grandmothers.  Fox has developed a deep relationship with The Grandmothers.  They speak through her.  She goes into a trance and sings, plays the drum, shakes the rattles.  As far as Fox is concerned, the Grandmothers are very real. 

Don’t we all love our grandmothers?

I will admit that this sounds fruity to people without exposure to a variety of spiritual traditions.  Let it sound fruity, I don’t care.  When Fox has asked The Grandmothers for guidance, it has been provided.

Fox in Contact with the Grandmothers

 
When I first met Fox, I thought she was a little crazy.  She attracts unusual events like a lightning rod.  After a time, when I saw how truthful Fox is, how great is her integrity, I allowed myself to believe in her. 

What am I talking about!?  I’m about to cross the tops of the Sierras with a steering column that’s ready to fall through the floor of the truck!

“The Grandmothers say we will reach Arches.”  Okay, Fox, if the Grandmothers say so…..but I’m scared, I’m petrified that at any moment I will lose steering entirely and plunge off the side of a cliff.

Fox Drumming in Prayer

Why did I keep going?  I have to ask myself that question, because the sane response would have been to stop the RV and call Triple A.  Tow us back to Tahoe.  The trip is over. 

I have this unfounded faith in what is called “normal reality”.  I don’t believe that anything horrible can happen to me, no no, not me!    In spite of the fact that I was terrified, I felt I had some control over the situation.  I didn’t want a long delay, I didn’t want to wait four hours for a tow truck and then endure a hundred fifty mile tow to a garage, back in Tahoe.  I didn’t want to give up!  A costly repair would eat up our trip money.  We would slink back home in defeat.

I could steer, albeit with some labor.  If I stayed in the same gear and held onto the column, I could at least get us to the bottom of the mountains.  We could look for help once we reached Highway 395.

I am empirically aware that “normal reality” is a fragile construct, and that the slavering wolf-jaws of disaster haunt us at every moment of our lives.  It’s something we learn to live with, mostly through denial.  If we truly realized how close we are to catastrophe, we would be too terrified to function.

We began our descent.  Coming down, going round, and round, winding into the sun so that it blinded me, then changing directions so the sun was to my left, then my right.  I stayed focused and drove slowly.  Cars, trucks, campers piled up behind us, honking impatiently.  I waved my left hand out the window, and some of them found places to pass.  In the silent rushing air, we descended the mountains.  My foot was on the brake and I eased that old Chevy round the tightest curves, holding the wheel, supporting the column.  Fox was praying in a language I had never heard.  The Grandmothers must have been with us. We survived.  The junction to Highway 395 appeared.  I came to the stop sign, breathed a deep sigh, and turned south. 

Somewhere along this road there must be help.  It was Sunday.  Gas stations were closed.  Little towns like Coleville and Bridgeport were deserted.   Every shop was closed.  I saw farmhouses behind fences, and I noticed that every farm seemed to have a shed full of tools.  Surely there were people here who could fix a car. We stopped at a convenience store and asked if there was a local garage.  We searched the phone book.  Only the town of Bishop, one hundred twenty miles south, would have an open garage.  So I drove, and I kept my eyes open.  Something to my right caught my eye.  It wasn’t a gas station, there were no signs, no indications that it was a business.  It was a place with some cars and some tools.  I quickly braked and pulled over. 

We've Reached our Goal

It was a small garage, and there were people about.  I asked if a mechanic was available.  A comfortably plump woman of about forty said he’d be back soon.  I began to breathe for the first time in hours.

In five minutes, there appeared a balding, dignified man wearing grey mechanic’s coveralls. 

I showed him our difficulty.  He reached under the steering column with a socket wrench, gave two twists.

“There’s your problem, “ he said simply.  “Somebody didn’t tighten up the clamp.”

He had undone the already-loose collar that kept the steering column fixed in place.  “Look, here’s the other bolt.  Inside the clamp.”  The second of two bolts that held the steering column in place was swimming around inside the round black circlet of metal. 

Tweek tweeek tweek, he turned his ratchet a few times, and our steering column was solid as a rock.  I felt stupid.  Why couldn’t I have figured that out?  Feeling stupid was nothing compared to the fact that I was limp with relief.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Forget about it,” the mechanic said.  I told him about the work that had been done on Yertle.  He shook his head.  “Careless, sloppy work” he said, “no excuse for that.”

I insisted he take a twenty.

As we started Yertle to take to the road, he called out,  “Hope those bozos didn’t leave any more surprises for you.”

I was desperately hoping the same thing.

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  All photography by Art Rosch
A Sampling of Art's Photos

I happened upon this scene of a Vietnamese family fishing beneath The Richmond Bridge. They kindly allowed me to take many photos.

  The Thousand Year Breath. This is a sixty second exposure taken near The Marin County Civic Center.

  Waterfall. Slowing shutter speed to a quarter second or slower will blur water to create this effect.

  Through the Eye Of The Gate. I've always wanted to take a fresh look at the Golden Gate Bridge.

Healing Hands. This is my most popular image in terms of sales
and use by organizations.

 Art Rosch's Biographical Sketch

Art Rosch boomed with the other babies of his generation in St. Louis, Mo. He was drawn to music as a child and learned trumpet and drums. As he got older, he became enamored of modern jazz. At the age of sixteen he set out on a pilgrimage to New York City to study with his idol, avant garde musician Ornette Coleman. This adventure led Art to associations with many jazz musicians.

He spent two years as the house drummer at Detroit's Artist's Workshop. His interest in writing and photography also continued to grow. After winning Best Story Award from Playboy Magazine, Art signed with an agent and began working on novels. He is still working on novels, memoirs and essays.

His photography has been featured in Shutterbug Magazine, where he is a contributing writer. One image, Lone Tree In Utah, won an important award from the United Nations. Much of Art's photo work is done at night. He is a passionate amateur astronomer and likes to explore the potential of long exposure photography. He continues to work from Sonoma County, California.

Art's photography may be viewed on his website and many of his writings can be seen on his "Blogazine."

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Please Note:

*** This Blog Needs Your Story! *** { I'm Serious!} If you have a story to post on this theme, or know anyone who does, contact me, please! We have zero stories on tap at the moment. Give your imagination a stretch--your story can be about any sort of Relentless Pursuit, fact, fiction, poignant, or humorous. I'd love to hear from you and work with you on your story! And we need to keep this theme going! And if you have a few moments, please stop by my web site and have a look around.
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A Wild Egyptian Goose Tale

Sonia Appell

You are about to read a heart-warming tale featuring the relentless struggle for survival of a family of Egyptian geese that nested this past summer at the San Joaquin (California) Wildlife Sanctuary.  It was pure luck that Sonia, a volunteer at the Sanctuary, and Robert Bemus (author of two stories on this blog, "The Hoot Owl" and "Simply, The Wedge" and great photographer) met on the day that the goslings fledged, and Robert had his camera in tow and was thrilled to chronicle the event with his photographs.  His photos motivated Sonia to pen this story.  Sonia found Barbara Demory’s photo of the female goose in her nest on the WhatBird Forum website.

Sonia wrote:

"Robert, Barbara and I have one thing in common: we are, always, on the lookout for an experience that will enrich our lives; and we find ways to share these experiences with others so that their lives will, also, be enriched. I had great fun putting this story together. I’ve read this story many times, and the photographs, always, make me smile. I hope it does the same for you."

--

  Michelle Alton

________________________

Thanks for stopping here to see the latest post. I'd love to know what you think of the "Relentless Pursuit" series. Please leave me a comment below or email me with your suggestions on what you'd like to see on this blog. Also, PLEASE click the green SU icon at the bottom of this post to recommend the blog to Stumble Upon members. It will dramatically increase the "exposure" of our authors' work.

If you have a story you would like to share on this theme, contact me. And be sure to take a look at my Photography site. I'd love to hear from you! Also, consider forwarding the link to "Relentless" to your friends and family. Thanks again!

____________________________________ 

A Wild Egyptian Goose Tale: A short story about the Egyptian Geese and their Five Chicks, Born at the San Joaquin California Wildlife Sanctuary in July 2011 - By Sonia Appell

Egyptian Geese (Photo by Robert Bemus)

Eucalyptus Tree (Red arrow points to the nest)
Photo by Sonia Appell

Many years ago, someone installed a large plastic “nesting basket” in the eucalyptus tree by the parking lot. No one knows who was responsible for this installation, when it was done or why, but we can assume that his intention was to attract hawks or other large birds to set up housekeeping in it. It was never used until this year when a pair of resident Egyptian Geese thought it was just the right place to lay and incubate five eggs.

Egyptian Geese are terrestrial birds and are usually found inland in areas close to water. The female, who is responsible for the nest, may construct a nest on the ground, in a hole in an embankment, in a cave, on a cliff ledge, in a tree cavity, or in an old or abandoned nest of a large bird. The resident female Egyptian Goose of San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary obviously liked the modern architecture of the manmade “nesting basket.” It was exactly what she was looking for. It was round. It was sturdy. It was safe from predators. And best of all, it was 50 feet high above the ground and had a great view of the neighborhood.

Nest with a View  (Photo by Barbara Demory)

Here she is checking out the view on May 30. Apparently, she liked what she saw because she lined the nest with down, settled in, and laid five eggs. After all the eggs were laid, she incubated them for about 30 days, and they all hatched at the same time on July 10.

The following story and photographs* tell what happened after the chicks jumped from the nest and landed on the ground unharmed and ready for their next adventure.

* Most photos in the story were shot by Robert Bemus, a semi-professional photographer who specializes in action and nature photography.  His work can be viewed on his website.  Some photographs were by Sonia Appell, the author.
Barbara Demory, a retired anthropologist, shot the photograph of the goose in her nest. She visits SJWS frequently to enjoy and photograph the animals, plants, reptiles and insects.

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On Sunday, July 10, at 4 p.m. when I was closing Audubon House, I heard quite a commotion outside. There was a lot of very loud excited honking going on and, when I looked to see what was happening, I saw the male and female Egyptian Geese standing on the roof of Audubon House where the female was honking her heart out. At the time, I didn’t know why she was so excited, but I know now that she was ordering her chicks in the nest to jump out. Because I didn’t know about the jumping, I didn’t look to see them jump, and I missed seeing this amazing event. She kept honking, “JUMP! C’MON JUMP! I’M WAITING FOR YOU! JUMP!”

According to the information in the Birds of Africa, Volume I, the chicks jump to the ground in quick succession and, when I saw them, they had already landed below the bushes at the base of the eucalyptus tree.  Mother called them out into the open, and then stopped honking. The picture below shows the proud parents admiring their five adorable youngsters who have the honor of being the first Egyptian Geese ever to be born at the San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary.

Proud Parents (Photo by Robert Bemus)

Egyptian Geese select nesting sites that are not far from water because they have to lead their chicks to water soon after leaving the nest. After five minutes of calmness, they started parading across the parking lot with determination. The male was the leader and protector of the family, and the female encouraged her chicks to follow her by honking nonstop, “FOLLOW ME! FOLLOW ME!” The chicks walked as fast as they could, considering that they were no more than 24 hours old, and their legs were only about one inch long. Mama Goose made sure that no one got left behind or wandered off.

Follow the Leader (Photo by Robert Bemus)

The parents knew exactly where they were going. They turned left at the Fledgling Loop and headed for the nearest pond.

Turning Left At Fledgling Loop  (Photo by Robert Bemus)

The slope to the right of the Fledgling Loop is very steep and, in one place where there is an opening in the shrubbery, someone from the Irvine Ranch Water District had placed two orange cones to warn people to stay off the slope. As far as the geese were concerned, the cones were put there for their benefit because that’s exactly where they entered the slope and made their way to the pond.

Stay Away (Photo by Sonia Appell)

Last but Not Least (Photo by Robert Bemus)

The adults had no problem climbing down the slope. For the chicks, however, it was not easy. Mama Goose kept honking “FOLLOW ME!” and she kept looking back to see how they were doing.  All of them made it down the slope none the worse for wear and, once everyone was in the water, she stopped honking. Her mission was now over, and she no longer needed to honk out orders to her chicks. She had done her very best getting them to the pond where they could eat, swim, and learn how to be  Egyptian Geese.

The Slippery Slope (Photo by Sonia Appell)



End of the Line (Photo by Robert Bemus)

By this time, they must have been exhausted. They had been moving constantly for 30 minutes, and now they could float, swim, eat, doze off, and do whatever Egyptian Geese chicks do when they’re only one day old.  The photo below shows the chicks in the pond  with their protective parents standing close by and watching them take their first swim.

First Swim (Photo by Robert Bemus)

In the space of 30 minutes, the chicks had jumped 50 feet to the ground, had run across a large gravel parking lot, climbed down a steep dangerous slope, walked into the pond and started swimming.

The difficult trip from the nest to the pond was over. They will now spend the next 11 weeks growing up and learning how to fly.  During that time, they will be very vulnerable to predators of all kinds, and they will be lucky to get through this period unharmed. We wish them lots of luck and hope they stay close by so we can watch them develop into adult Egyptian Geese who enjoy living at the San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary.

July 10, 2011 was a special day not only for the Egyptian Goose family, but it was a memorable day for Sonia Appell and Robert Bemus who were the only witnesses to the entire event. We are indebted to Robert for taking pictures documenting everything that happened that day and for donating all of them to Sea and Sage Audubon for everyone to enjoy.
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EPILOGUE

To date, there have been no recent sightings of the goose family at the San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary; however, a family of geese similar to the ones in the story has been seen hanging out at a nearby park where there is a small population of Egyptian Geese that is attracted to its large lake and wide expanses of lush green lawns. It is highly probable that the adult geese in my story had flown over to the San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary from this park, and they, most likely, flew back to their old stomping grounds with the five youngsters as soon as they could fly.

If an Egyptian Goose lays eggs in the plastic basket next May, Robert, Barbara and I will be ready to take pictures of the one event we didn't see this time around -- goslings jumping 50 feet to the ground where their parents are waiting for them.
---
  Sonia Appell
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Sonia Appell's Bio Sketch

I’ve been birding since 1964 when I was a student at U.C.Berkeley working towards a Standard Teaching Credential. One day, I wandered into a small Nature shop across the street from the campus and found a brochure on the counter about the National Audubon Society’s Summer Camps. That summer I signed up for the camp on Hog Island, Maine, and that was the beginning of my interest in birding. Since then, I have been on birding trips to seven countries, eight states, and many locations in central and southern California.

After teaching elementary and learning disabled high school students for 28 years in the Santa Monica-Malibu Unified District, I moved to southern Orange County and began volunteering at the Audubon House in the San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary in Irvine. I have been volunteering for seven years, and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. On July 10, 2011, I had the most memorable experience witnessing the first 30 minutes in the life of the five Egyptian Geese chicks described in my story.

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Please Note:

*** This Blog Needs Your Story! *** { I'm Serious!} If you have a story to post on this theme, contact me, please! We have only one  story on tap at the moment. Give your imagination a stretch--your story can be about any sort of Relentless Pursuit, fact, fiction, poignant, or humorous. I'd love to hear from you and work with you on your story! And we need to keep this theme going! And if you have a few moments, please stop by my web site and have a look around.
_________________
[Click on the green SU icon below to recommend this blog to Stumble Upon Members]
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Dam EAGLES

My introduction to Bill Vanko was this excerpt from an email he sent to me a week or two ago:
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My name is Bill Vanko. I’m a reporter for WBAL Radio in Baltimore, but when I’m not on the air I generally have a camera in my hand and am out in the field slogging through swamps and forests. I’m also a friend of Bob Cammarata [author of several of our popular stories-Michelle], with whom I’ve spent many enjoyable days wandering the byways of Maryland chasing bugs and reptiles. 

Bob suggested that I submit a piece I had written about the [Relentless-ma]  pursuit of the perfect eagle picture. Each year in October and November scores of bald eagles converge on the Conowingo Dam in northeastern Maryland to enjoy the world’s largest sushi bar as fish congregate in the warm waters at the base of the dam. The aggregation of eagles brings out a horde of bird watchers and photographers, some of whom come armed with tens of thousands of dollars worth of high-end photo equipment. It’s a toss-up which is more interesting, watching the birds, or watching the people who are watching the birds. I’ve tried to convey the spirit of the experience in the article “Dam Eagles!” which I’ve taken the liberty to attach to this e-mail. I also have a series of photographs of the eagles and the eagle-watchers, which might be useful to include.
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My first reaction to reading Bill's story was, "Wow!  This writing is SO GOOD that I don't even need photos to see everything he describes.  But the photographs are stunning, so we'll take them!  You'll really enjoy "Dam Eagles!"  And let's hope Bill has more stories to share in the future!
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  Michelle Alton
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Dam Eagles!  by Bill Vanko

Eagle Eye

It’s the American Bald Eagle’s deep, dark secret. This proud icon of an entire nation was graced with a regal countenance, a classic flight profile, and awe-inspiring predatory abilities, but the eagle was also cursed with one of the wimpiest voices in the animal kingdom.  No fear-provoking avian scream, it is a sound that various observers have described as “ridiculously weak and insignificant,” “shrill and twittering,” and “more of a squeal than a scream.”  But right now the sound that’s echoing off the concrete face of an aging hydro-electric dam in the northeastern corner of Maryland is music to the ears of hundreds of people who have gathered to view one of the largest assemblages of America’s national bird anywhere in the eastern United States.

Each year in the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, eagles by the score congregate at the base of the Conowingo Dam which spans the Susquehanna River just south of the Pennsylvania state line.  Thanks to the constant flow of water through the dam’s huge electric generating turbines, the eagles are attracted by the plentiful bounty of large fish and the guarantee of open water even on the coldest of days.  And they, themselves, have become the attraction for a growing number of photographers, birders and families hoping to catch a glimpse of a bird that was on the verge of extinction just a few years ago.

Dam Eagles

It’s a patriotic thing,” says Mary Lynn Rathman, who lives near Reading, PA, and drove more than an hour south to watch the eagles.   “We heard about it on our local radio station.  It’s something that we almost lost, and now they’re coming back. It’s just exciting to see”

As she speaks a pair of adult eagles, instantly recognizable with their luminous white heads and tails, bright yellow beaks, and chocolate brown bodies are engaged in a dog fight of sorts over the river, twisting and turning with surprising agility for birds with a wingspan that may approach 8 feet. Juvenile birds are also in abundance, their dull brown heads still waiting for the white feathers that won’t begin to appear until they reach sexual maturity at about five years of age.

Wind Beneath The Wings

 It’s the very presence of those juveniles that speaks to the eagle’s amazing recovery from the brink of extinction. In the early 1960’s scientists estimated there were fewer than 500 pairs of nesting eagles left in the lower 48 states. Their population had been decimated by the well-publicized ravages of DDT and other industrial pollutants.  After DDT was banned in 1972, eagle populations began to rise quickly, and today there are believed to be more than 9,000 active nests across those same 48 states. Maryland alone has nearly as many breeding pairs today as the entire country did in the species’ darkest days.  In 2007, the eagle was removed from the federal Endangered Species List.

Dinner on the Fly

Mary Lynn and Dave Rathman came to Conowingo armed only with two pairs of binoculars, and their shared desire to see an eagle on the wing.  But for the small army of photographers gathered by the river, the trip to Conowingo is a visit to a photographic Valhalla.

For much of the past 50 years, photographers hoping to catch a shot of an eagle in flight would have to travel to distant, remote places where the birds had managed to establish a precarious foothold despite their declining numbers. Today, it’s just a matter of parking your car in the lot at the base of the dam, moving your tripod a few feet to the fence at the edge of the water, and waiting.

Eagle Watchers

“I’ve been here seven of the last nine days,” says one bearded tripod-toter.  And while some armchair photographers carry only small point and shoot cameras to document their eagle encounters, others come armed with pricey cameras equipped with long, ultra-expensive telephoto lenses that are pointed into the sky like a battery of anti-aircraft guns, protecting against squadrons of avian invaders.

Diving Eagle

Burke Seim, who owns Service Photo, one of the last remaining independent camera stores in Baltimore, simply shakes his head when asked about the photographers’ willingness to spend so much. “I ask them why they want this expensive lens, and they tell me…to shoot eagles.”  It’s a refrain he’s hearing more and more these days as word of Conowingo’s plethora of willing subjects filters through the photographic community.
 
“A little over seven thousand dollars,” says Charlie Lentz, a retired banker, when asked how much his 500mm lens cost.  Lentz jokes his wife warned him that the actual cost to the familily’s  bottom line would be much more expensive.

 “It’s really going to cost you 14 (thousand),” Lentz says she told him. “If you spend seven, then I’m spending seven!”   But Lentz is quick to add, “She was just kidding….I think.”

Lentz’s outlay may still be a bargain compared to some of the other dedicated photographers lining the river’s edge whose combination of high-end digital camera bodies and lenses can easily mean they have more than $20,000 perched atop their tripods.

Eagle in a Hurry

Having all of those photographers gathered together in one flock can also provoke some serious lens envy. “No question about it,” says Lentz.  “You got a 500(mm), you want a 600, and there’s a couple of 800s that float around here occasionally. You never have enough.  All it takes is money.”

For the photographic horde, most of the day is spent playing a waiting game, as the birds they’re after remain tantalizingly just out of lens-reach on rocky outcrops several hundred yards across the river.  But when an eagle on the wing finally approaches the photographic phalanx, there is an almost deafening cacophony of clicks and pops from the high-speed shutters clicking into action and taking as many as 6 or 10 shots per second.

Head On

The Grab

On the Prowl

“Sometimes I come up here and take a thousand photos a day,” says Lentz, who knows most of those will be out of focus, poorly composed, or improperly exposed.  “If you go home and you have one good shot you feel at least it’s been a successful trip.”

And then, as the light begins to fade, and the photographers begin to collapse their tripods and pack up for the trip home, Lentz repeats the photographic mantra that will have many of them standing in the same spot tomorrow. “What keeps you coming back is constantly trying to get that shot that you have difficulty getting…the shot of a lifetime.”
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  All photography by Bill Vanko / Vankovision.com

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Bill Vanko's Bio:

Bill Vanko is an award-winning reporter and broadcaster whose profession is news, but whose passion is photography.

Trained as a zoologist, he made a fortuitous wrong turn on the way to the unemployment line, and launched a career in broadcasting instead.. Since then his assignments as a network and local news anchor and reporter have carried him all around the world to places where news was being made. And always, he took his camera along.

Bill’s love for the natural world around us endures in his collection of more than 30 thousand photographs of bugs, birds, bats, snakes, sharks, squirrels, flowers, fish, friends and anything else that will sit still long enough for him to press the shutter button.

He is the co-anchor of Maryland’s Morning News on WBAL Radio (1090AM) in Baltimore, and can be heard each weekday morning beginning at 5am.

You can see more of his photographs at his web site: www.vankovision.com .

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