The Oak Tree at the Entrance to Blackwater Pond Every day on my way to the pond I pass the lightning-felled, chesty, hundred-fingered, black oak which, summers ago, swam forward when the storm laid one lean yellow wand against it, smoking it open to its rosy heart. It dropped down in a veil of rain, in a cloud of sap and fire, and became what it has been ever since-- a black boat floating in the tossing leaves of summer, like the coffin of Osiris descending upon the cloudy Nile. But, listen, I’m tired of that brazen promise: death and resurrection. I’m tired of hearing how the nitrogen will return to the earth again, through the hinterland of patience-- how the mushrooms and the yeasts will arrive in the wind-- how they’ll anchor the pearls of their bodies and begin to gnaw through the darkness, like wolves at bones-- what I loved, I mean, was that tree-- tree of the moment--tree of my own sad, mortal heart-- and I don’t want to sing anymore of the way Osiris came home at last, on a clean and powerful ship, over the dangerous sea, as a tall and beautiful stranger. -Mary Oliver

Grateful for all of you kind people here. 💚

I really wish the wildlife photography world would get rid of the idea that a "good" photo has to be a super closeup portrait type shot.

I could watch and listen to them all day.

I love Mary Oliver and hate what the self help inspo grifters have done to her words. "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" Is the line that everyone knows, too often framed as a call to do more, to hustle more, to Be Your Best Self. Yet the whole poem, with this quote in context, is something very different. Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean— the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down— who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

Speaking of I'm heading out to look for snowy owls!! Which is making me feel a little nervous because there are going to be plenty of other people out looking for owls. But we'll do our usual, if we see an owl, look from the car for a couple of minutes, then leave to avoid disturbing them.

You can just go outside and look for cool critters if you want to!! 🐦🐍🐜🐿️🦇

New favourite shirt

Help cheer me up by sharing your photos of GULLS?? Bonus if you know what species of gull they are, or want to share any fun facts about them or interesting behaviour you've seen. I always like learning more about gulls. Here's a throwback to this past summer, when I saw a ring-billed gull repeatedly trying and failing to eat what appeared to be an exceptionally stale piece of pizza (we were right across the street from a pizzeria). #birds #birding

A request for reading recommendations! I still need more nature writing in my life, and you all came through when I asked months ago (I'm currently in the middle of one of those recommendations), so I'm asking again. Looking for nature writing with a focus on the writing itself, think more creative nonfiction less popular science, though there are plenty of gradations between the two that I'd still be happy to read. Looking for both specific essays and good places to read those kinds of essays (websites, newsletters, magazines), and books, with a preference for ones on the shorter side. Thanks very much! 💚🌲🦉 #naturewriting