tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5220289332594298792024-03-12T20:36:09.556-04:00Accidental ShutterbugStumbling through life with my trusty camera by my sideRobinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-23946284730009392222010-04-13T17:57:00.000-04:002010-04-13T17:57:25.255-04:00A Walk in the WoodsFor this Florida girl, born and raised on the Gulf Coast where white powder means the sugar sand that gets caught between my toes at the beach, snow is something of an enigma. Yes, it has snowed in Florida. But Florida snow is more like a Sno-cone that has been sitting out in the hot sun for a few hours. It is wet and thin, and melts into the sidewalk within minutes, even on the chilliest day. I had yet to see real snow, deep snow, the kind you can make a ball out of and nail someone in the back with.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kDueF2OGrufeVcQtqE47-qdNa9bnUIXuq_FH78bsTgs035vbwmAus4ha-J4KqHL7ZcEpXqbqq0-bAXC2AtxkzEbelj0NKCvPEuGtO1JGPtzr4l1zKkwUMIdVyVtHc50lE5d-3-ruOVs/s1600/049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kDueF2OGrufeVcQtqE47-qdNa9bnUIXuq_FH78bsTgs035vbwmAus4ha-J4KqHL7ZcEpXqbqq0-bAXC2AtxkzEbelj0NKCvPEuGtO1JGPtzr4l1zKkwUMIdVyVtHc50lE5d-3-ruOVs/s400/049.JPG" width="267" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Creek as trail along the Sweat Heifer Creek portion of the hike up to Charlie's Bunion</span></div><br />
We hiked up to Charlie's Bunion in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park recently (a hike not to be missed should you ever go there), traversing a bit of the Appalachian Trail, and making it up to a little over 6,000 feet. <br />
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That morning, we prepared for a typical early April hike in that area: we dressed in layers, brought our winter hats and gloves, and packed plenty of water. However when we got there, it was very warm, even in the higher elevations. And everything was covered in a thick blanket of beautiful white snow.<br />
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I've mentioned the <a href="http://accidental-shutterbug.blogspot.com/2009/10/flash-of-color.html">duality</a> of the Smokies in early spring before; it seems that winter has been reluctant to let go of her tight grip on the mountains this year, and while the temperatures were screaming that spring had most definitely sprung, the landscape was painting a quite different picture.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjOw9-xri8NwJoQDrcImA8cuaaYLvTVglQV9WhuZ3LCxRdKTgkiHxSaIsOqwuNjT3wA_Bj4MBCt8KES1y7l9t9RYZwjnMXrQHlJepOdaK1KM4t7vwYCthterLr-rAMK0uAjRBC8McRyw4/s1600/046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjOw9-xri8NwJoQDrcImA8cuaaYLvTVglQV9WhuZ3LCxRdKTgkiHxSaIsOqwuNjT3wA_Bj4MBCt8KES1y7l9t9RYZwjnMXrQHlJepOdaK1KM4t7vwYCthterLr-rAMK0uAjRBC8McRyw4/s400/046.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Winter wonderland in Spring in the Smoky Mountains</span></div>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-21095997929024075202010-02-17T10:58:00.000-05:002010-02-17T10:58:32.235-05:00Where the Buffalo RoamNo matter how many times I tried to convince them, my kids never believed that there are bison on Paynes Prairie. Bison, you say? In Florida? You don't believe me either? Why yes, we do have a rather large herd of bison roaming freely in North Central Florida. As a matter of fact, hundreds of thousands of bison roamed in Florida until the <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1266420698885">European settlers and Seminole</a><a href="http://florida-travel.suite101.com/article.cfm/paynes_prairie_state_preserve">s</a> hunted them into extinction. In the 1970's, in an effort to restore a population of bison, a few were brought to Paynes Prairie, and they have pretty much thrived there since.<br />
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We have been taking the kids hiking since they could walk. We have been conditioning them to walk farther and farther, and now they can do up to a respectable 8 miles at a time. We have known that the farther into the Prairie they could go, the bigger and better the payoff would be. Still, up until now, they didn't really believe that bison were out there.<br />
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It's a special thing to see the bison on Paynes Prairie, even if you see them from afar or from one of the many observations decks built there. But it is a very unique and extraordinary experience when you not only see one - or a few - on the hiking trail, but you also get to hike with one!<br />
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That is exactly the experience my family had. It was thrilling, exciting, and utterly frightening. I challenge anyone not to be in awe of a huge, 500+ pound beast staring you in the eye from a mere 15 feet away. He came out of the brush as we were resting on the trail, and we were forced to follow him out. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind too much.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjico8GdM0RA5FX-Ikr-q3NZrzdbEJAGpq6XeNoj12YIJeZ_2ZIsB6oE0jLOJnplqupYLCw_w-UnMq4EOjGS4IqtMJ_06tfWoVDNJntQsQXkXJ6mToS3thSu_V_tOtg5-OmQ0Gxf5LG80M/s1600-h/089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjico8GdM0RA5FX-Ikr-q3NZrzdbEJAGpq6XeNoj12YIJeZ_2ZIsB6oE0jLOJnplqupYLCw_w-UnMq4EOjGS4IqtMJ_06tfWoVDNJntQsQXkXJ6mToS3thSu_V_tOtg5-OmQ0Gxf5LG80M/s320/089.JPG" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvNmUwSAHehpCYVGUVnSkAhmLGgFmR8EZTf2jWGQvUUYUqkMu1jsicjmkZVZWY4kqQ9vOZQfKcNCXAHlh76zmWcAlHow_zFcz6mx25Jr0xNXDwrfoQwUR42c6w_MogS-KiL_fpSEX8Xg/s1600-h/081+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvNmUwSAHehpCYVGUVnSkAhmLGgFmR8EZTf2jWGQvUUYUqkMu1jsicjmkZVZWY4kqQ9vOZQfKcNCXAHlh76zmWcAlHow_zFcz6mx25Jr0xNXDwrfoQwUR42c6w_MogS-KiL_fpSEX8Xg/s320/081+-+Copy.JPG" /></a></div>We saw 5 bison on this day on the trail. This guy was by far the biggest and the most humbling. Notice that one of his horns is missing. There was much speculation as to what happened to it. Fighting for territory? Fighting for a mate? Or is he simply just a klutz?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRrDOsAleC86G0JvnH1GpI6EAvEzbesydG2GX2Z_xH9v3EqLERP7uXR1g1Up6wt6vaVVmY_8YrTSgYIwJDz7VgGbhe20ZiSDAqyq-oBj63UMYulByXNLptSLihecRTpOu8-4hTy3ba7gg/s1600-h/070+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRrDOsAleC86G0JvnH1GpI6EAvEzbesydG2GX2Z_xH9v3EqLERP7uXR1g1Up6wt6vaVVmY_8YrTSgYIwJDz7VgGbhe20ZiSDAqyq-oBj63UMYulByXNLptSLihecRTpOu8-4hTy3ba7gg/s320/070+-+Copy.JPG" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These guys were the cutest. They were about half the size of Chewy up above. They were docile enough for me to get about 20 feet from them to take their pictures. We were told by some fellow hikers that a herd of about 12 had been with them only a few minuted before we got there, and these two guys stayed behind for lunch.</div><br />
Our experience with the bison taught us that no matter where you are hiking, you aren't alone on the trail. Whether you seen them or not, there are animals that call home the places that people only casually use. The forests, the prairies, and the mountains are not ours to use or abuse, and we must respect the trails - and the creatures that we borrow them from.Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-34870464836460000972010-02-08T07:39:00.000-05:002010-02-08T07:39:09.848-05:00Wild Horses Couldn't Drag Me AwayEven though I have hiked just about every inch of the sanctioned trails of Paynes Prairie, I am always pleasantly surprised and reminded by how special the place is. On the right day, you forget you are in Florida, and feel transported to another place. <br />
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Our recent hike was no less surprising than others before it, and it had one of the great payoffs for people patient and ambitious enough to rise early and hike farther than the 1/2 mile hike to the observation post:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp_Ap_kD0yghobrXkawPDEK0kGQFqiQxynWXic7rxj4PWoypi8uzkE_wtt1z9quxIjiS2is4wPuyaJOOZ90oD3VwWf7RHipD1WyieomWbHwx6jrlSLZf3nzHUyQ5KetZ8V79h5zjKrSk8/s1600-h/080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp_Ap_kD0yghobrXkawPDEK0kGQFqiQxynWXic7rxj4PWoypi8uzkE_wtt1z9quxIjiS2is4wPuyaJOOZ90oD3VwWf7RHipD1WyieomWbHwx6jrlSLZf3nzHUyQ5KetZ8V79h5zjKrSk8/s320/080.JPG" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0LR55xX6LxRFMuSAngeNeN4T0t6pmJOzdY_COT_FftjsdKA_1SdUZxQCNY46HYRWAT-WNP0zYXBDYq-ZCu4GYFwvmgxRGgYd_cig70L9mxOeREqksojhhZjIsca17ZZOukRCfkIoagc/s1600-h/081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW0LR55xX6LxRFMuSAngeNeN4T0t6pmJOzdY_COT_FftjsdKA_1SdUZxQCNY46HYRWAT-WNP0zYXBDYq-ZCu4GYFwvmgxRGgYd_cig70L9mxOeREqksojhhZjIsca17ZZOukRCfkIoagc/s320/081.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These are wild horses, often talked about and not often seen, that live and thrive on Paynes Prairie. They are descendants of a herd of horses brought to the area by the Spanish in the 1500's. This is only the second time I have seen them in the 15+ years I have been hiking the prairie, and yesterday my kids finally got to see them after hearing us talk about them for years.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">About 4 miles into our hike, the kids were growing restless and frustrated, having not yet "seen anything". We knew that if they could hold out just a few footsteps more, that the odds of seeing something on four legs were pretty good. So we exercised our parental authority, and commanded them to march, just around the bend and we promised that if there was nothing down the trail that we would turn around and head back for lunch. As we rounded the bend, we all looked up, my kids hoping the coast was clear, my husband and I hoping for a big payoff. As I squinted my eyes, I noticed a dark spot moving about a mile down the open trail. We got out the binoculars, and confirmed my suspicion: HORSES! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We were able to get alarmingly close to them. They watched us suspiciously as we approached, but they were calm and quiet. I snapped a few photos of them, we stood and watched them for a few moments, and then turned around to leave them to their grazing, because they were in the middle of the trail, and I had no intentions of challenging them just to move ahead. My son periodically turned around to make sure they weren't sneaking up on us, of course. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My kids' frustration was curtailed, and as we hiked back to the trailhead to have our picnic, talk turned from "my feet hurt!" to "that was AWESOME!". And it most certainly was.</div>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-29805657137054596852010-02-01T07:00:00.001-05:002010-02-01T07:00:04.913-05:00Groundhog DayWhile obviously a myth, Groundhog Day is celebrated every February 2 out of the desperation to see green again, to feel the warmth of the sun on our faces, to pack our winter coats away for the next 6-8 months, and to touch doorknobs again without being zapped across the room. Now, I live in Florida, and know little to nothing of the frigid winters that most people north of me deal with year in and year out. This winter has been an exception, though, and I have realized that I, too, am desperate for the little guy to see his shadow!<br />
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We hear all about Punxsutawney Phil, up there in Pennsylvania on Groundhog Day. He gets all the press, all the applause. Imagine the pressure that little guy feels! He doesn't ask to get yanked from his warm and cozy hibernation in his burrow, but he does it with a smile, a wiggle of his nose, and takes the brunt if winter wields her wicked ways for another 6 weeks. There are groundhogs the world over that know nothing of the expectations placed upon poor little Phil. <br />
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If you've never seen a real groundhog, in his element, it's easy to stumble upon a fat and furry little guy or two if you visit Chimney Rock State Park, just outside of Asheville, NC. Case in point:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwLn52v1n-hN-9WDNbFLmNQKghU3k2iRelStlQHGzW8xffua-it8c27Nk6YF7viNrvVNOXu3mKXBsWbrn436it4X4hBkZYo6ajanQB59LNDNCFOX9N28RGGPyUkC6PeFg8MffRzWFIVw/s1600-h/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwLn52v1n-hN-9WDNbFLmNQKghU3k2iRelStlQHGzW8xffua-it8c27Nk6YF7viNrvVNOXu3mKXBsWbrn436it4X4hBkZYo6ajanQB59LNDNCFOX9N28RGGPyUkC6PeFg8MffRzWFIVw/s320/006.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>I walked right up to him, and he just kept munching on his clover in the most careless way. At Chimney Rock, the groundhog is a mascot of sorts, waddling through the park unnoticed. All over the region, you can see them in the forest, along the rivers, and unfortunately, on the roadsides. They're fat, they're furry, and even though they're rodents, they're cute. You can't deny that.<br />
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</div>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-36177857602936267112010-01-26T12:14:00.000-05:002010-01-26T12:14:22.226-05:00All Puffed Up<div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9JiB4e1g-iLw7DB0eAS8ylG6CBTAUIULAMHNDvdXUpou7Qq-B3GNswsXevabkbKb9_hVujb2uGutO-VuRky0E6arv577a5mB4TisTNLrrOr_19IXHsyjxQDnO9t8NGtJw1kD5E74WU8/s1600-h/131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9JiB4e1g-iLw7DB0eAS8ylG6CBTAUIULAMHNDvdXUpou7Qq-B3GNswsXevabkbKb9_hVujb2uGutO-VuRky0E6arv577a5mB4TisTNLrrOr_19IXHsyjxQDnO9t8NGtJw1kD5E74WU8/s400/131.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">I came across this immature Green Heron as I was hiking with my family on Paynes Prairie. He was licking his chops, having seconds before I took this photo just finished off a large insect that he had plucked from the murky water. It didn't take him long to realize that he was being watched, though. Giving it his finest effort, he tried to show me that he wasn't too keen on having someone watch him eat...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOxbE13QOfXfFQjw4DBMNntj_1FKVP5G1e6rwQmlLZKvRi9cT8NSPGjiQzOj6JD-u5kDHfbvLX_EXecbKqpMqRTrIs4qiO7HCTVGVF8zKJqrKSxLpcN7zqzihEfvLHEk44ev5au3kmC0/s1600-h/133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOxbE13QOfXfFQjw4DBMNntj_1FKVP5G1e6rwQmlLZKvRi9cT8NSPGjiQzOj6JD-u5kDHfbvLX_EXecbKqpMqRTrIs4qiO7HCTVGVF8zKJqrKSxLpcN7zqzihEfvLHEk44ev5au3kmC0/s320/133.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-38448869997848333802009-12-21T12:00:00.001-05:002009-12-21T12:00:01.065-05:00Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn. ~Elizabeth Lawrence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJzsUHxu_CbkFetnjfQoD5tM8PQHfGr8_sgnYX87gSU8Zj1TKT_z_mLpWSK4ZMB6XwWxHfhbIb8lD5ulrVaG7yk-pkZzJCTy2xXQMvveF1-OAZIq2WqWlzKTPVmD7GISA5zDzuuW2oqI/s1600-h/043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJzsUHxu_CbkFetnjfQoD5tM8PQHfGr8_sgnYX87gSU8Zj1TKT_z_mLpWSK4ZMB6XwWxHfhbIb8lD5ulrVaG7yk-pkZzJCTy2xXQMvveF1-OAZIq2WqWlzKTPVmD7GISA5zDzuuW2oqI/s640/043.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Who says there is no change of seasons in Florida? Though it might come a little late, and with less fanfare than those showoffs in New England, we do indeed have fall here in the Sunshine State. Yes, it is December. Yes, there is copious amounts of snow blanketing much of the country. I say, better late than never!Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-38066142969705732952009-12-20T16:43:00.000-05:002009-12-20T16:43:09.106-05:00Autumnal Arrival<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3ZdGThEGdTva-UES_obrM20g5ObcizI5L1MmWJX4Q8zG1_2Y-q12rbc4xpmFtVoAUu5i4EhriF49rAoykZ4N9D2mrudzFz7eGjPNQKV-AgCjOz4uN26xmQE1WvXya14yW9sF9JtF-k8/s1600-h/034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3ZdGThEGdTva-UES_obrM20g5ObcizI5L1MmWJX4Q8zG1_2Y-q12rbc4xpmFtVoAUu5i4EhriF49rAoykZ4N9D2mrudzFz7eGjPNQKV-AgCjOz4uN26xmQE1WvXya14yW9sF9JtF-k8/s320/034.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">I always know that Fall is in full swing here in North Florida, not by the changing of the leaves or the sudden crispness of the air, but by the arrival of the Sandhill Cranes. The Florida Sandhill Cranes live here year-round, populating North Central Florida from Gainesville south to Tampa. They live in residential areas with lakes and ponds, and in the many state parks and wildlife refuges in the region.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">While I love the permanent crane residents, it is the migratory Greater Sandhill Cranes that arrive every late November that provide me with the most joy - and picture-taking opportunities. Avoiding the frigid northern cold, these magnificent birds descend upon my temperate hometown by the thousands, making their presence known with a cacophonous thunder. They are huge birds, standing tall at four feet, and seeing a field or prairie filled with several hundred of these guys is, just, WOW.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Every morning during this time of year, a massive flock of cranes flies over my house, roaring so closely that the windows sometimes rattle. They travel from nearby Paynes Prairie to several marshes and fields in the area, including one about 1/2 mile from my house, for a buffet breakfast. Around 10 or 11, they make their way back to Paynes Prairie, with a few loner birds hanging out in various pockets of town. It is fun to watch these birds, a real observation of their social structure. You see the dominant birds, the submissive birds. You see fights over females, fights over territory, and even friendships among them.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Each year, many of the residents of my town look forward to the arrival of these incredible creatures. People flock to the Prairie to observe and photograph them, to appreciate their mere presence. If you ever get the chance to get an up-close look at one of the cranes, a bird who is more than 2/3 as tall as an adult man, it is quite humbling.<br />
</div>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-7245598865833855932009-10-13T10:48:00.000-04:002009-10-13T10:48:58.796-04:00Flutterby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNvv53wXgZuXgMYEx1jCozgQLz25jDsN99Vqm37o1wI0x_JNrPQw41_6BULsMj88RG9J5t3N267K61gcXHYZH6NPTefUIp91Tx7VFdqoEP5Qs6FXGy4YUCpHaNdY9Nwcx7_pkIcLBP-I/s1600-h/005+-+Copy+(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNvv53wXgZuXgMYEx1jCozgQLz25jDsN99Vqm37o1wI0x_JNrPQw41_6BULsMj88RG9J5t3N267K61gcXHYZH6NPTefUIp91Tx7VFdqoEP5Qs6FXGy4YUCpHaNdY9Nwcx7_pkIcLBP-I/s400/005+-+Copy+(3).JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As a general rule, I do not care for insects. Butterflies, however, are an exception for me. Butterflies are not your typical yucky bug. They are colorful, playful, graceful, and sometimes mysterious.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am fortunate to have a wide variety of butterflies (or "flutterbyes" as my daughter calls them) float in and out of my backyard, especially in the oppressively hot mid-summer months. Butterflies of every color, size, and shape come calling on my petunias and hibiscus flowers, and it is fun for us to watch. This Zebra Swallowtail decided one day to make himself comfy on my son, who had just finished taking a dip in our pool. Whatever it was about him, his fair skin, his wet hair, this butterfly didn't want to budge.<br />
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</div>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-64632173569504645832009-10-09T08:00:00.001-04:002009-10-09T08:00:07.873-04:00Flash of Color<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBKGuTXuGk0DdZde8eJ8TupdQq40vJxCwCAxBtaf1XGQ12xgBcx2uv1KSPM7mJbp53taQdP6lYO_y5fcLFboV6vhc_i2PzjWggdI4uFI65BeTqNOozVF-9ZGJ2kcQIHG1LqcOHkaY3kK0/s1600-h/059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBKGuTXuGk0DdZde8eJ8TupdQq40vJxCwCAxBtaf1XGQ12xgBcx2uv1KSPM7mJbp53taQdP6lYO_y5fcLFboV6vhc_i2PzjWggdI4uFI65BeTqNOozVF-9ZGJ2kcQIHG1LqcOHkaY3kK0/s400/059.JPG" /></a>Early springtime in the Smokies is a duality. While the hardwood and evergreen trees that pepper the mountainsides have not yet sprouted their first leaves, there are flowering trees everywhere. The trees display the most amazing palette of colors: pinks, reds, whites, and yellows. They stand out against the still-beige countryside, and provide a glimpse of the vibrance yet to come in the year, of copiously blooming rhododendrons and dogwoods, and a vivid spectrum of greens.<br />
</div>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-57243466068511720822009-10-08T09:44:00.000-04:002009-10-08T09:44:31.555-04:00The Little House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_RwIbfx11Nlc2lH-feuATYcoEuK1igDMmmqSD9OOokEiTPD6VmrM9_bHY_BTHOvz9cjTk3vuKwfuKuDyoUboyKkB_cIP6n0CxQ89ujuuxOdeY3iYMvYHHcO0_E7myCRZqmU897Z0pKw/s1600-h/034a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_RwIbfx11Nlc2lH-feuATYcoEuK1igDMmmqSD9OOokEiTPD6VmrM9_bHY_BTHOvz9cjTk3vuKwfuKuDyoUboyKkB_cIP6n0CxQ89ujuuxOdeY3iYMvYHHcO0_E7myCRZqmU897Z0pKw/s400/034a.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>One of my favorite children's books of all time is <strong>The Little House</strong> by Virginia Lee Burton. The story begins, "She was a pretty Little House and she was strong and well built." I think of this when I look at this picture, taken from the Great Smoky Mountain Railroad near Bryson City, North Carolina.<br />
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The house was built during the Civil War, and was occupied until only about 20 years ago! Running water and electricity were only added during the mid 20th century.<br />
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In a time when old things, perceived as useless or even ugly, are torn down to make way for anything shiny and new, it is gratifying to see this Little House, so strong and well built.Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-36568748449776846722009-10-06T12:17:00.001-04:002009-10-06T12:20:33.998-04:00Walking with Dinosaurs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AccfzHMuesM3CSuOgbiQVNTTkUByHdz62SY-cFkS7u5kaH7-Fws5QCGaQpGI_GSoZtjsgp-Dv3LZfp40IrNxUcewO-vRyKufpR9x3M_2fWQoorJUNgyuW36jZom3iN9AAZ3TS09l28c/s1600-h/057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AccfzHMuesM3CSuOgbiQVNTTkUByHdz62SY-cFkS7u5kaH7-Fws5QCGaQpGI_GSoZtjsgp-Dv3LZfp40IrNxUcewO-vRyKufpR9x3M_2fWQoorJUNgyuW36jZom3iN9AAZ3TS09l28c/s400/057.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It might be obvious by now that I like alligators. I have so many pictures of them, and I always take more when I am out and see them. Where I live, they really are a dime a dozen, but I just never grow used to sharing space with them. When I say I like alligators - well, like is probably too strong a word. I appreciate them. Anything that provokes so much fear and awe is pretty cool to me. They are ancient creatures, a living link to eons past, when creatures 10 times this size roamed - and ruled - the earth.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This guy was just hanging out along the banks of the Alachua Sink one late morning. He was perfectly still for as long as I watched him, and probably for much longer after I moved on. It was a brutally hot July day in Florida, and the humidity was suffocating. It's as if this gator was opening his mouth just a little bit in hopes that a breeze would come along and pass through his jaws, to offer some relief to his sun-baked body. More than likely, I am thinking that he was stretching his jaws after a long nap so that he could go find some lunch!<br />
</div>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-50898577065544625432009-10-05T07:23:00.000-04:002009-10-05T07:23:00.572-04:00Banana Spider<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3PTKF4ghQmZ6YXDNsngs9llRCbgPyoZOSoiQv8_tbkkhBXSQRETibmr_-CGwquCYgGLTzDHcJKek6i2lvD38QgQOgNR8f6ShzbJBbyzdHk65B-d4U_4r4ENHFYL36syu6j2r-pMjKBog/s1600-h/005+-+Copy+(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3PTKF4ghQmZ6YXDNsngs9llRCbgPyoZOSoiQv8_tbkkhBXSQRETibmr_-CGwquCYgGLTzDHcJKek6i2lvD38QgQOgNR8f6ShzbJBbyzdHk65B-d4U_4r4ENHFYL36syu6j2r-pMjKBog/s320/005+-+Copy+(3).JPG" /></a><br />
</div>I shot this one early morning hiking through San Felasco Hammock. If you've ever gone biking or hiking in the Florida woods, then you have likely come upon one or more of these critters. The earlier you go out, the lower the banana spiders hang on the trail. They are harmless, but they can be huge, which for an arachnophobe like me causes mini panic attacks all along the trail.<br />
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We've been known to carry a stick along with which to bat down the elaborate webs that are hanging too low to duck under, and I have a friend that likes to employ the same trick on her lawn tractor while mowing the backyard of her secluded cottage home. But if we can, we simply pass underneath the resting spiders, marveling at the craftsmanship of their webs, some that often span several feet across the trail from tree to tree.Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-25371827068013936802009-10-04T07:30:00.009-04:002009-10-04T07:30:00.160-04:00Pollination<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHWpJNd7bMJ4qOAkazcKbFwpAa5V3pFf71iAEyOXqfV4tf1nuKOAvT9A1laNbjOPfHTDuGAaDUWIkJibNMfhN2C7Qiibj837lTGAfzPIvqoPSi5QBtureATQWVFR11YgCZJt6i762pqM/s1600-h/096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHWpJNd7bMJ4qOAkazcKbFwpAa5V3pFf71iAEyOXqfV4tf1nuKOAvT9A1laNbjOPfHTDuGAaDUWIkJibNMfhN2C7Qiibj837lTGAfzPIvqoPSi5QBtureATQWVFR11YgCZJt6i762pqM/s320/096.JPG" /></a><br />
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Sometimes the prettiest pictures are not of sweeping mountain vistas or verdant prairie views. For me, pretty pictures come from the small things, the mundane activities that we don't notice or take for granted. A bee buzzing about from wildflower to wildflower might not catch your eye, but it <em>always</em> catches mine. This little bee was so engrossed in his task that he didn't even notice me snapping away - and I appreciate him for it.<br />
</div>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-34281398157141830492009-10-03T13:21:00.000-04:002009-10-03T13:21:11.012-04:00Free to Roam<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqipT9NM-ph_i-uHJ7P7PP_ZRN9wp9z56AmriaBKC4_Aw0siXLzx89FJUcxpP80H9Vr219SblM7ZmfZ2WJpDRVPOfuEbgr0qU_vLjuEgvLrHPcIGOJp_GozyUjBEn7kJowC6lOCljS7Tc/s1600-h/067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqipT9NM-ph_i-uHJ7P7PP_ZRN9wp9z56AmriaBKC4_Aw0siXLzx89FJUcxpP80H9Vr219SblM7ZmfZ2WJpDRVPOfuEbgr0qU_vLjuEgvLrHPcIGOJp_GozyUjBEn7kJowC6lOCljS7Tc/s320/067.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWpeGelN6nxT7DmYLCdNvVBNgVRWT2_CXFlvr4N4M1ObDGEUqcCwHhYRqmoN7YOve05Zfpc-mNJmTygAPGCtCyafloObCKvjQ7VERM_s_HXCn1ivskm6dUciNjcjbl3h5p5T79CaVhNg/s1600-h/074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWpeGelN6nxT7DmYLCdNvVBNgVRWT2_CXFlvr4N4M1ObDGEUqcCwHhYRqmoN7YOve05Zfpc-mNJmTygAPGCtCyafloObCKvjQ7VERM_s_HXCn1ivskm6dUciNjcjbl3h5p5T79CaVhNg/s320/074.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Seeing the elk graze in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park was something of a dream of mine. I had heard they were there, but had never been lucky - or early - enough to catch them doing their thing. One morning, we got the kids up and made the hour drive to get to the park by 7 a.m., and were thrilled to spot a small herd having a quick breakfast on the roadside. They quickly drew a crowd, but were unfazed by me and the other shutterbugs furiously and curiously snapping away. I imagine they must wonder what all the fuss is about; it's only breakfast, after all. They had a quietness about them, a strength and a fascination about them that made me put my camera at my side for a bit and just watch them. Sometimes a shutterbug just needs to know when to stop looking through the lens and just observe.<br />
</div>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-62963200615009877312009-10-02T10:05:00.000-04:002009-10-02T10:05:29.081-04:00Lunch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0fG3ir6pLDGeOZEyBgcTxub9UcqUTqO2WlnwWLM-Hk3c8f-BC8KSXYROzwxPnPuukiT0qf_hTGEiUpH6LfOgPawYbHIiAqTmR761-k8tFsYl7EAk0MB-wcoG29nUTuWuHMvYyvrilxo/s1600-h/112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0fG3ir6pLDGeOZEyBgcTxub9UcqUTqO2WlnwWLM-Hk3c8f-BC8KSXYROzwxPnPuukiT0qf_hTGEiUpH6LfOgPawYbHIiAqTmR761-k8tFsYl7EAk0MB-wcoG29nUTuWuHMvYyvrilxo/s320/112.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Living in north Florida, I am fortunate to have access to some pretty remarkable scenery. Sure, you think of Florida and you undoubtedly think of THE BEACH! As for me, I think of Paynes Prairie, the Everglades, the Suwanee and Santa Fe rivers. These places are the real Florida - hot and sticky, green and wet, wild and untamed. Truly unusual and surprisingly beautiful.<br />
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I took this photo on Paynes Prairie, specifically the La Chua trail, a three mile hike that traverses the Alachua Sink, which is along the North Rim of the prairie. There is much to be seen: egrets, herons, gallinules, butterflies, snakes, and in the fall and winter, the enormous flock of Sandhill Cranes that winter there. But the real draw is the alligators. Big, fat gators that look as if they could swallow you whole if the urge so struck them. You can get scarily close to them on the trail; luckily, though, they are usually deep in a slumber in an attempt to warm up their cold-blooded selves. In this photo, it looked to me as if one hapless bird was about to be an appetizer for the rather wide reptilian sunning himself in the shallow water.Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-70522367499349690672009-10-02T09:36:00.001-04:002009-10-03T13:33:42.504-04:00Mossy Footlog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHowsK_-ZILlDfdMg1r1uBjpx4CvyyRUM0_Uw-VOvTaeynwXG7vRNM9tz7xMYbm5AfxicJ820iA5sOENplaBrL-34dv5BXXseDTbtGgNIf76TdIBj2dfZvTQEQSMHzixMURbEsh60XQFA/s1600-h/024+-+Copy+(4).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHowsK_-ZILlDfdMg1r1uBjpx4CvyyRUM0_Uw-VOvTaeynwXG7vRNM9tz7xMYbm5AfxicJ820iA5sOENplaBrL-34dv5BXXseDTbtGgNIf76TdIBj2dfZvTQEQSMHzixMURbEsh60XQFA/s320/024+-+Copy+(4).JPG" /></a><br />
</div>I took this shot in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in June, 2009. We were on the Kephart Prong trail, a short trail that takes you through an old railroading camp. This trail is the standard by which I will always measure hiking trails from here on out in terms of beauty, serenity, and interest. The grade was very gradual, so there was very little physical exertion involved, and the views were simply sublime. All you could hear were the sounds of rushing waters, and the occasional chirping birds. In short, it was paradise.Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522028933259429879.post-60047470593452009892009-10-02T09:28:00.002-04:002009-10-03T13:49:26.500-04:00Who is the Accidental Shutterbug?I love taking pictures. There is something about capturing a moment <em>perfectly </em>that is so appealing to me. I try not to spend too much time taking pictures, however, because I believe in living in a moment just as much as I love to capture it for posterity.<br />
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I love to go hiking with my family. Living in North Florida, there are few bearable days during the year which hiking can truly be enjoyed. However, if you are willing to confront the oppressive humidity and heat of the summer, there are things to be seen that are both awe-inspiring and frightening at the same time. <br />
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I love to take pictures in the woods. I like to snap photos of all living things, big and small. I take pictures of mammals, amphibians, insects, reptiles, birds, trees, fungi, flowers...well, you get the idea.<br />
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The best thing is to to take my camera to a brand new place. My goal is to travel to a new place each year, and take as many photos as I can to remember it by. And I like to remember things. I am a picture pack rat. <br />
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So, I am an accidental shutterbug by sheer virtue of nosiness and nostalgia. And I like beautiful images. I am BY NO MEANS a pro, and don't profess to be. But, sometimes, I think I have a good eye, and it once in a while translates into a memorable shot.Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06914677621042868727noreply@blogger.com0