Everyone knows these golden moments that you think, how I would have loved to photograph this. Usually I keep my camera close at hand, but even then Nature every so often times me out. Like this Spring.
I had just stepped out of the van to stick the kettle on for my morning porridge, when I heard the boisterous croaking of crows. There were two of them and they attacked a heron. He did not seem overly impressed. With broad beats he winged his way and now and then made an elegant manoeuvre to rid himself of his irritating assailants. The tumultuous querulants got him off course on occasion, but then he resumed his flight in an unruffled way. An archetype of confidence and dignity in the face of reckless rascals. A photo fail plucked from the sky.
This image always comes to my mind whenever I would give my kingdom for a camera. Like this morning. I had just stuck the kettle on inside my kitchen when I heard a soft 'pew, pew'. It sounded like a wounded animal, but I rejected this idea immediately. No animal is so daft as to advertise its vulnerableness. I nonchalantly looked where it came from and natch saw nought. At that moment my stock box was blown from the outdoor table and bounced across the rocks. Instantly the familiar oystercatcher alarm sounded in my ears, 'look out look out look out'. A complete family, mom and dad and some five kids, magnificent miniatures, so itsy-bitsy and yet so articulately black and white with an orange beak. They would have stood out like tiny colour-cut thumbnails on the glassy green waves. In a pic.
I have just returned from a rock run to the North stone of my turf. This reaches across colossal slabs of up to 20 tons, that were thrown upon the coast in 1850. Then a sea-quake occurred off Portugal and the resulting tsunami, though slowed down by the Aran Islands, threw thousands of tons of rocks upon Cape Cowskull. See, that I would have liked to photograph.
The small pic on the home page looks like a missed opportunity to photograph her jumping. It is, however a bubble she blows under water as an expression of joy. She has been doing this regularly of late, but it is sheer luck if you catch it. Here's my only lucky shot.
On the return of my rock run the wind came sideways from behind and just blew into my storm glasses. Because of tears forming and therefore impaired spatial vision I descended to the ebbed outskirts that were just at their most extensive due to full moon. Cautiously I walked across the sea salads and climbed on a rock with footsafe barnacles, right on the edge of the water. Something round appeared from behind a sharp-edged wave. I froze and saw a grey seal. I've seen him here before, but never from this close. He came quite high and carefree out of the water and took a look around him. When he saw me, he quickly went under, but three seconds later he surfaced and looked at me again, as if he wanted to be sure I was real. He disappeared, but came up right after, staring at me. This he repeated some five times, apparently trying to figure out if I was for real, or just a figment of rock formation. All the time I stood stock-still, but maybe his doubt frightened him so much that he took off unnerved. I statued on for another ten minutes but did not see him anymore. In this case I had the feeling of being photographed, be it connected to a movement sensor.
When the tide is that far out, several rock pools appear. Not the kind closer to the shore, where water-stirred locked-in stones grind out round holes, but larger ponds with glass-clear water, in which the longer you look the more you see. So I came to one, roughly square, where water poured out on opposite sides, and quite fast. That does not figure. It either flows one way or the other, unless water flows in. This did not seem to happen. Then it had to come from underneath, from an underground channel, and then it might be fresh water. So I tasted from a hand cup at both exits and indeed, the water was fresh with a light saline aftertaste. Just to check if this wasn't wishful drinking I took a hand of direct sea water. And that indeed was salt.
For a moment I considered jumping into my wetsuit and look for a cave, but discarded this as useless hassle as this spot is flooded most of the time anyway. But now I do know there is an exit. Picture that!
They say a picture paints a thousand words, but if you cannot take it, a thousand words will have to do.