Showing posts with label horse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label horse. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 10, 2022

Pin-headed, I Mean Brown-headed Cowbird


Day 209: It is uncharitable of me, I know, but I cannot look at cowbirds without remarking on how pin-headed they are compared to other birds. Contrasted with a parrot, for example, who is possessed of a brain able to manage tasks of higher learning (vocal, mechanical, etc.), a cowbird is easy to dismiss as a creature capable of survival skills and not much more. Yet the cowbirds' ability to mimic sounds is astonishing. I have personally heard them ringing telephones and honking horns, but one other vocal feat sticks the strongest in my mind. I was living in rural Thurston County at the time, surrounded by neighbours who had livestock of various sorts. I had gone out in the yard early one morning and was assailed by a whinny close by. My first assumption was that the cattle rancher whose pasture abutted ours had got himself a horse, but then I realized that the sound had come from above me, about sixty feet up one of the Doug-firs towering over our garage. It came again, that whinny, and again, somewhat higher pitched than a horse voice ("horse," not "hoarse"). After watching the tree for a while, I saw a Brown-headed Cowbird (Molothrus ater) fly out from among the branches. The whinnying stopped until the bird had returned to its nesting site, where it again took up the imitation. Over the years I lived there, there were many other occasions when I heard a horse up a tree. Apparently the sound was easy to reproduce, even for a pin-head.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Sculptor's Studio


Day 22: Dan Klennert's studio is easy to spot if you're driving up to Mount Rainier National Park's Nisqually entrance. Two miles out of Elbe, you'll see a lifesize metal giraffe standing by the side of the road. It's not the kind of thing you could drive past without noticing, and that's just your introduction to "Recycled Spirits of Iron." Dan is a man of considerable talent. He has the ability to visualize the shapes of things out of their normal context, and to assemble them into very recognizable forms. He works primarily in recycled metal and "found" driftwood (of which there is no shortage in Alder Lake).

Dan and I have known each other for something like twenty-five years. I stopped by his studio today, stuck my head in the door and yelled, "You home?" A faint voice answered me from somewhere deep among shelves of nails, bolts, rake heads, gears, pipes, chain, wrenches, fittings and whatnots (strangely including a tiered crystal candelabrum). I ventured further in, peering into nooks and crannies in the hopes of catching the sculptor in a creative pose. When I finally found him, I was somewhat disappointed. He was working on an ATV, engaged in the purely mundane mechanics of repair. When I asked if he'd mind if I took a few shots inside the studio, he apologized for the chaos. He'd been bringing the more delicate pieces indoors for the winter.

He went back to his work and left me to prowl around at my leisure. I had taken quite a few photos and was getting ready to leave when I noticed the light on this driftwood horse where it stood in a darkened corner. For once, I had my tripod with me, so I was able to capture the moment in HDR.