It’s been years since I’ve spotted a scaled quail, and I’ve never seen one perched on cholla before. As usual, I heard him before I saw him. And then, amazingly, I was able to sneak around to his light side and get a few shots before he was on high alert. The critters in the Sandia foothills seem to be loving the COVID-19 lockdown.
There are still a few mallards, coots, and Canada geese left in this Rio Grande Bosque pond. This is a very classic central New Mexican winter scene — i.e., with muted colors despite the golden light — which makes me long for spring.
A very large recycled roadrunner (with wings made of crutches!) overlooks the Organ Mountains at sunset. You can read more about it here (I think it’s brilliant!).
Snow geese on their way north, the first time I’ve seen them in a couple of years.
Up close and personal — a couple of the cranes who were featured in the sunset photo/video post a couple of weeks ago.
I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned that sandhill cranes played a significant part in me becoming a photographer. 18 years ago I bought an “ultra-zoom” camera. It was the Olympus C2100UZ, with a whopping 10x zoom and two — count ’em — TWO whole megapixels. Turned out that camera had a bit of a cult following for a while, of which I was unknowingly a part.
In any case, I took it out for a spin in Albuquerque’s bosque right after I got it, and shot a couple of crane photos. At the time, cranes were just about the only kind of bird I could identify because I actually don’t see very well at all. They were the only birds that were big enough for me to identify.
I took the camera home and uploaded the photos to my computer. I was absolutely shocked when I realized that “those birds have red heads!” I’d honestly had no idea until I saw those photos. And that is the continuing allure of photography for me: it allows me to “see” all sorts of stuff I couldn’t otherwise.