eBird- whew, that's a lot of work!

12-30-12 Sacramento Wildlife Refuge. This was my second birding trip. Matt and I went on a wild duck chase, looking for a Falcated Duck that had strayed from its native home in China. There were thousands of snow geese filling the sky. 

I have been working hard for the past two months to try to make my Life List of birds official and figure out where I first saw each bird. (To those non-birders reading, yes it is a slightly crazy project.)
My method that I was using for the past 5 years wasn't as accurate as I arrogantly believed.
And I birded for a whole year without writing a single thing down. Jeez.

12-22-12 Christmas Bird Count in Fort Bragg, CA.
This was my first birding trip, and I was unaware it
was an event where you bird from sunrise to sunset.
But I did it, and became hooked! 

So I got to play detective, and hunt others down who birded with me and were more diligent than I. Through the wonderful help of many people who patiently looked up their eBird lists and shared them with me, I now have records of 90 percent of my birding trips!! I still have most of 2013 and all of 2014 to upload to eBird, but I am thrilled to have all of that early missing information compiled. Opening each new list was like a present that launched me into a pool of memories. In addition, I am going through and editing every photo I took, labeling them and uploading them to eBird for science. (If you would like to check out my photos and lists, click here.)
I love sharing the data I collect, but it is not entirely selfless.
The photos bring back the memories and excitement of seeing these birds for the first time, or some fascinating behavior. It reminds me of traipsing all around the country side with some amazing people. We shared jokes, scopes, the beauty of nature, and a great passion for wildlife.
Being a birder is belonging to a wonderful club of people of so many different walks of life. If I see anyone with binoculars wandering around somewhere, I make sure to go talk to them. I rarely do that otherwise. But birders don't just love the birds, we love sharing with each other, seeing new places and meeting new comrades with whom we can share our extreme nerdiness with.

I highly recommend it. Membership is always open and it is a great medicine to remedy loneliness or feeling depressed. The sunlight and fresh air is great for your health, too. Come to think of it, doctors should really be prescribing birding. ;)

11-09-13 The Audubon Raptor Field Trip fell on my birthday. About 20 of us explored the entire Mendocino Coast from sun up to sun down. Growing up I explored the outdoors with my dad, sister, and rarely more than one or two others. To explore in groups like this makes me excited. It's like an outdoor party where you are not forced to make small talk. 

First Kiss

A story about a kiss...

I didn't know I was much of a romantic most of my life. As it turns out, I didn't know a lot about myself until I met Matt. It's funny how it sometimes takes the right person, or right situation to really help you learn about life.

When I was younger I had a plan. Graduate high school by 18, live on my own by 20, finish college and have my first kid by 25, and by the time I was 30 I would be set in my career. Never in my plans did it ever include find a boy, fall in love, and get married. Not that I did't like boys, I have been boy-crazy all my life. I just never expected to devote much time to them.

During the summer of 2005 Matt was hired at my work, at a children's portrait studio, and when he walked in, looking like a cross between Shaggy from Scooby Doo and Wolverine, I waged bets that he wouldn't last a week. I knew he would terrify the kids. Instead, he quickly became my best friend and confidant. And the kids loved him.

He met me at the beginning of a new relationship, and I met him as he was nearing the end of a big relationship. For 5 years he was the closest friend I had. We were even each others go-to-example in arguments against people who claimed men and women cannot be friends.

I loved him like a brother, a best friend, and as anyone would who had such a close friendship.

Then as 2009 came to a close, I had a dream.

The effect my dreams have had on my life are a novel unto themselves. My dreams throw an annoyingly serendipitous wrench into my affairs at random.

I cannot recall much of the anymore, but the nature of it changed how I thought of Matt forever.

I woke up and it was as if I had been completely rewired to think of him in a different way and all of those platonic feelings were shattered to dust. I couldn't hope to reassemble them if I had the eternity of time on my side.

Crap. I don't do well with a new environment in my head, so I went straight to the source of my disjointed state.

At the time, he worked as a waiter at a sandwich shop on my favorite strip of road in town, Broadway.

Broadway has this bohemian feel to it, very eclectic, and mixed with it is generations of my family making memories in its midst. Remnants of Playland sit in an abandoned lot where my parents would go on dates when they were young. Rickety old Kiddie Park still operates. Even when I was a kid the roller coaster looked questionable, but that was part of the fun. My grandmother had a friend in the later 30's whose estranged father sent her money to go to college, instead she bought a convertible car and my grandmother and her girlfriends would cruise the drag strip.

This road has been loved for many years and when you walk on its strip, you feel it emanating from the asphalt.

In I walk to the deli shop, hoping to catch my best friend for a lunch break, instead I hit the rush. So I order a sandwich and sit down to wait. All the time I cannot take my eyes off of him. He feels the switch too and comments later that he felt almost hunted by my eyes. I don't do subtle well.

Well, the lunch rush was never ending and he suggested we could catch up over dinner at our favorite restaurant across the street. This restaurant is, in my opinion, the best Chinese food on the planet, and no matter where I live, anytime I visit home, I beeline to them. And even if a year has passed since they have last seen me, I am always greeted with smiles of recognition.

I have had first dates here and post break-up consolation parties here, and numerous trips with good friends. Along with all of that history, this restaurant keeps a piece of my heart.

My best friend finally gets off work and we sit down, barely taking a second to look at the menus —we already know what we are going to order. Actually, we can practically order for each other and a handful of other friends who regularly come with.

Their wonton soup is the best. Think wonton soup meets the coziness of chicken noodle soup. Plus, they don't stuff their wontons, which I vehemently appreciate. (In stuffed wontons I always wind up with gristle or something with an odd texture in my mouth. Yuck.) Many times when I was sick, their wonton soup was the only thing that sustained me.

As we get our food I begin to stammer, hem, and haw around the subject because now after feeling weird all day, I just feel like a fool.

And he leans on the table, with his arms folded in front of him and chin on his wrist. He looks up at me with that sideways smile and says he knows something is up and I should just spit it out.

Finally, with enough prodding I tell him the whole darn thing and how my dream has tried to wreck my life and our friendship. With immediate confidence he tells me not to worry, he won't let anything happen and nothing will ruin our friendship.

The problem with his logic — I have a stronger will than he does.

So dinner passes with us laughing about it, me being awkward and twitching and him bemused by my peculiar antics.

Now as fast as I talk, I think even faster, and up bubbles a memory of a story my mom told me about when she was in college.

When she was single, she had a friend she enjoyed hanging out with. They decided to go on a date and when it came to the first kiss, they giggled as no sparks flew and they realized they were just destined to be friends only.

Light bulb. I had a plan. But, I had to percolate on it to make sure it was foolproof. Turns out I am bad at making fool-proof plans.

By the time we had paid for dinner and were sitting in my car talking about the makings of the universe, I had decided this was my only option, we had to kiss so I could go back to normal.

I shared this idea with him and we discussed it at length, with neither of us willing to make the next move.

My frustration grew with my lack of taking action and I expressed it. Then he reached over and kissed me.

What happened next obliterated all of my stubborn thoughts that we would go back to being friends.

My body went from confused and frustrated to being set on fire and all of my senses reacted to that kiss.

I felt as if someone had hit me with an epi-pen of pure amorous instinct and his mere breath as alluring as the smell of a lit match to a would-be recovering smoker.

An eighteen-wheeler could have exploded behind us and we wouldn't have noticed.

I never understood the phrase 'being swept off your feet' until this moment.

The kiss lasted only a brief moment. He and I exploded off of each other in absolute confusion, previously convinced of the outcome, as sure as any mathematician is that two plus two equals four.

And then, as if we were cast in some odd Woody Allen film, we spent the next five minutes trying to analyze what just happened.

This was too big to understand and we wanted to put it back in a nice, neat box. As we discussed what could have possibly just happened, a gravitational pull had created itself toward one another and before we could stop it, we were locked in an embrace yet again.

This pattern of emotional pull, shock, then over examining happened repetitively for at least an hour. Finally the time arose that we had to leave in order to wake up for work the next day.

As he left the car, he jumped back in and stole one more kiss. His last words to me were, "Just in case I don't get to do that again."

I'm not an easily moved person, but that sentence brought me to the verge of crying, and the memory of it makes me tear up anytime I re-live it.

My world was shattered, the sky wasn't blue, down was now up, and I was utterly confused. I spent the next year forcing myself to wake up to the reality that something that good couldn't happen, the gods of fate or luck wouldn't allow it, he spent the next year proving me, and my opinion of fate, wrong.

Two years later, we drove into the parking lot to go eat at our favorite chinese food restaurant and when we walked back to the car, in the exact parking spot we had first kissed, we took pictures of the "Just Married" graffiti painted all over the back windshield.

Sometimes things that shouldn't exist, do. And sometimes you have to have the guts to believe in it, even when it doesn't make sense, or you will miss out on a lifetime of happiness.

September 22, 2012 Happy Anniversary, my love. 

Killdeer babies

Mama killdeer telling me to get lost as I snap a photo from the car. Teresa Shumaker photo.

Baby killdeer. Teresa Shumaker photo.

 I was having one of those mornings where I was contemplating shipping off my crazy pets (only a daydream of the frazzled), when Matt came home and asked if I saw the babies in the driveway of our condos.
He barely finished his sentence when I had my hand on the back door with my camera around my neck.
These cuties were just standing in the middle of the driveway/alley where about 20 condos garages open up.
Later on that day, as we were leaving for the store, an impatient woman whipped around our car and almost hit the two babies, scaring them to run into and bounce off a garage door.
So I asked Matt to stop the car, I jumped out and attempted to corral the birds down a grassy corridor that leads to the golf course.
One of the little guys freaked out and ran the wrong direction then tried to hide in an AC unit.
Thankfully, he stopped moving and I was able to corral him and his sibling into the grass.
Of course, when we returned  from the store they were back in the middle of the driveway. But by evening they had moved on.
Here is hoping they stay away from traffic and other hazards. Mom and dad killdeer are great parents and almost took my eyes out when I was helping the babies. If they are brave enough to try to take me on, those babies should be safe from other predators.

Count the legs, there are a few extra feet sticking out. Teresa Shumaker photo.

A very vigilant parent. Teresa Shumaker photo.

Little baby killdeer. Teresa Shumaker photo.

Killdeer family, the other parent was busy circling around. Teresa Shumaker photo.

Roadrunner

Greater Roadrunner. Teresa Shumaker photo.

Greater Roadrunner. Teresa Shumaker photo.

 While on the way to visit a nearby wildlife refuge, we spent an hour driving the three-mile road leading to the park. The side of the road was teeming with activity and we saw more birds there then our entire time in the refuge. (Live Oak trees are incredibly hard to see birds in.) 

One of the highlights of the roadside shows was the greater roadrunner. 

I have always thought of this bird to be a very "Texas" bird. Turns out this bird ranges from California to Louisiana. Not so Texan after all. 

Nevertheless, seeing these birds running alongside country roads is a real treat. They are full of sass and wait until the last minute to run off the road when a car approaches, then they stand on the side of the road puffed up waiting for the metal box to pass. 

This particular bird kindly posed in different ways so I could get his (or her) best angle. Clearly it is destined to be a runway model.

"Move along, I have important things to do." Teresa Shumaker photo.

Wildflower Season

Bluebonnets in San Antonio, Tx. Teresa Shumaker photo.

Texas in spring is a gorgeous time, but this year has been breaking rainfall records, which means that the spring wildflowers are blooming in force. 

Bluebonnets. Teresa Shumaker photo.

Bluebonnets bug. Teresa Shumaker photo.

"Thanks for the leg up!" Teresa Shumaker photo.

Laughter

If there was one word to sum up my mornings as a parent, it would be laughter.

Our mornings currently begin between 5 to 6 a.m., my daughter, River, wakes up to eat, then falls back asleep for a short time. I use this nap as an opportunity to quickly brush my teeth and shower. I am usually able to jump back in bed right as she is waking up - which is often an ordeal.
Sometimes she kicks, flails and grunts for minutes, sometimes she wakes up crying, and every so often she just opens her eyes.

Whatever her wake up method is, once she is completely awake she is nothing but smiles and giggles. We typically spend an hour laying around talking, laughing, tickling, reading, and enjoying each other. The cats join us in bed for skritches and to inform me that I am late — again — on delivering their breakfast. Sam, my dog, plays with our feet and wriggles around the bed, enjoying our morning routine, too.

By 9 a.m. breakfast is complete, and River and Sam know what is coming next - our morning walk. The tell-tale clue is me singing the "Adventure Time" theme song, with the names of Jake the dog and Fin the human changed to Sam and River. At first, pushing a stroller with one hand and hanging on to my chaotic 50 lb. dog with the other was a little daunting. But after a few months we have the routine down and I can even push River up hills and over curbs one handed.

Our walks are not simple strolls in the neighborhood. Sam wants to sniff everything and so we follow. Over the curb, around trees, behind bushes, next to the pond — our stroller has seen it all. River's first few weeks of walks were used for napping, but now she takes everything in.

I point out birds and sounds, describe our surroundings and give a commentary on Sam's behaviors. These mornings are my treasure.

Buttercups

Wild buttercups. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Now that winter is completely here, I am (naturally) looking forward to spring. The wild flowers, the birds, the warmer weather and sunny days! And I am looking forward to being able to enjoy those sunny days without melting like I did while I was cooking a human inside me. 

Oh the possibilities! 

Bahia Grande: Texas coastal prairie and wetland. Teresa Shumaker photo.

 When we first moved down to the Rio Grande Valley, I spent as much time as I could exploring the new parks and places. One special place was the Laguna Atascosa National Wildlife Refuge and its Bahia Grande Unit.

The Bahia Grande Unit is only open to the public by bus tour. It consists of a restored wetland and coastal prairie. Flatlands are dotted with tall yucca plants and paddle cactus. Having everything so low to the ground makes the sky huge and humbling. Sadly, on this trip it was grey and foggy.

The endangered Aplomado Falcon sits on a nest box provided for these birds to help recover their numbers. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Meadowlark on a Yucca. Teresa Shumaker photo.

Great blue heron. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

More prairie land and the Laguna Madre in the distance. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

 One of the exciting parts about this wildscape is the potentially dangerous animals you could run into. Rattle snakes, scorpions, hogs and peccaries will make you cautious, but then there are these interesting animals called Nilgai. Although they are not dangerous, per se, they are humbling in their size.
Nilgai are the world's largest antelope and these photos don't adequately portray how big they are. They could easily look a seven-foot tall man in the eye.
Naturally, this species is found in India, but the King Ranch (a big game ranch in south Texas) brought them to the state for sport hunting years ago. A few escaped and this habitat — sans their natural predators, the tiger — was perfect for them to flourish. Although they are feral, they do not cause as much destruction as feral hogs. The biggest threat they offer to humans is being hit by a car. Their size and height can cause a lot of damage to a vehicle and the passengers inside.

Nilgai (pronounced neil guy down here). Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Nilgai. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Female Nilgai with her young. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Male Nilgais are a blueish/grey coloring. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Don't play with your food!

Great Kiskadee eating a dragonfly. Teresa shumaker photo. 

Unless it is the only way you can eat it.

I caught this photo after a hike around Estero Llano State Park. I was taking a break with my birding friends on the wetlands deck when this kiskadee kindly landed right in front of me off the deck to eat his lunch. I agreed with him that it was a good time for a snack and ate my lunch, too.
I look forward to no longer being pregnant so I can hike more. This year my ability to go out and explore the outdoors has been critically hampered by my inability to be in the heat and quick exhaustion. Plus, once the baby is born, I will have a tiny little birder I will need to take out and show everything! Soon! She is due Jan. 24 and I cannot wait to meet her.

Estero Llano State Park boardwalks and wetlands deck. Teresa Shumaker photo.

A little-loved bird

Great-tailed grackle. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Great-tailed grackle. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

When I was first moving away from Texas, I knew I would miss the mockingbird's song. (Yes I now know mockingbirds are elsewhere, but they are very common where I grew up.)
But when I returned to Texas last year, it was the great-tailed grackles that I realized I had missed too. These birds are everywhere in South Texas and most people dismiss them as one would any overly abundant animal.
But I get quite a bit of amusement watching these fussy birds work out their tiffs and sing their litany of songs.
These birds are rarely quiet, but boy do they have a range of sounds they can make. From typical bird chatter, squawks and squeaks to strange metallic and electronic buzzes and screeches. I cannot count the amount of times I have heard a strange sound, stopped to look for the source and realized it was a grackle.

The Cornell Lab has some recording of grackle sounds, but it doesn't have much in the way of their mechanical noises. Go here to check it out: http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Great-tailed_Grackle/sounds

Up-Close with Raptors

A close-up of Harris's Hawk, held by raptor expert Bill Clark. Teresa Shumaker Photo. 

I had the wonderful privilege of going on a raptor trapping trip with the local Audubon Society last month. Bill Clark, an expert at trapping and banding raptors, gave us an up-close look at his job. Although the weather was cold, overcast, and windy (not the best weather for catching raptors) he was able to trap a juvenile Harris's Hawk and a male American Kestrel. Here is a photo essay of that trip. 

Bill Clark with the Harris's Hawk. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

When Clark catches a bird to band, he measures the bird and takes photos of field markers for future identification. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

One field marker - the inside of the wing. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Look at that sharp line on the top of this birds head. Gorgeous. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Another important area of filed markers is the coloring on the tail. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Here is Clark with the American Kestrel, a very small falcon. Teresa Shumaker photo

Such a gorgeous bird. Look at those tell-tale black streaks on its face. All falcons have a variation of this black marking. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Banding the leg. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

Afterwards, we went out to eat. And it is important to know, true birders have manners, we all "puddle-stomped" to wash the mud off of our shoes from our day's adventures. Teresa Shumaker photo. 

When Murphy's Law attacks

So I have not mentioned this on my blog before because, well, I haven't had much time to think about my blog this year.

But back in May, I discovered I was pregnant. A big surprise. Especially since Matt and I had just discussed waiting to have children until I was finished with school.

And to top it off, I found out while I was on the cruise in the Caribbean, which is why I still haven't shared many of those photos — they still make me nauseous to look at.

Being trapped on a boat full of buffets when you can't stand the sight of food is not fun. 

Things happening when it is least convenient has been the theme for this year, which in retrospect has been comical in a ironic sort of way.

I spent the end of May and all of June incredibly nauseous, and wrestling with our healthcare system to see a doctor.

July saw an end to nausea and a rise of the most evil heartburn. I had never had heartburn before, so I just assumed I was dying.
Thankfully, Matt did not abandon all reason — as I apparently had — and was able to diagnose it and bought me Tums. (Which only mildly helped. Eventually a complete diet change was the only thing that did ease the caustic beast in my belly.)

Or the smell. Thankfully, my friend had a travel febreeze.

Also in July, my summer classes started. Yep, I was finally heading back to college to finish my degree. I decided to end my six-year sabbatical with pre-cal in the summer, while trying to work part-time, and being pregnant. Honestly, I don't plan to task overload myself, it just always seems to happen.

Surprisingly, I maintained a wobbly A/B through the whole class, despite my panic attacks.
Matt, again, rescued me.

There was one horrid night with difficult homework, I was dealing with exhaustion and heartburn, all I could do was cry over my textbook. I had relegated myself to the ranks of failures and was ready to withdraw from school and society in one fell swoop.

Matt, with all his sage wisdom, soothed me and said, "Well you don't have to quit everything tonight. Why don't we just take one problem at a time."

I did, and at a snails pace I conquered my 15+ weekly homework assignments and managed to not drop out of school.

But, I feel like Murphy has his attention pinned to my life lately and just as finals approached, the killer bees returned, this time inside my house. In August, I woke up from a nap one afternoon, and as I opened my eyes, I watched in shock as two bees made themselves comfy on the other side of my pillow. Several were tucking themselves in the blankets and I swear, four of them were doing a victory dance on the blinds.
The next day I was finding bees all over the house, some alive and some dead. And looking out the back window, hundreds were bouncing off the house seeking a way in. That was the final nail in the coffin; it was time to move.

Now we spent seven months battling nature and a neglected home in what could appear to an outsider as a homage to Sisyphus. Other times we were reliving the 1986 movie "Money Pit," starring Tom Hanks and Shelly Long, thankfully without owning the place.

We stuck it out so long because if this place had the right landlord, it would be gorgeous. We clung to the hope like little orphaned monkeys on stuffed animals, surely if we got over THIS problem everything would be better. The views, the location, the house itself was wonderful. However, that day never came.
The 2-inch gaps under the doors let everything saunter in, without having to duck. We lived without AC in the 90 degree Spring and lived with a marsh under the AC (from the condensation and poor drainage) once it was finally fixed. A frog actually moved in. He would sing the song of his people during the night, and unlike other frogs, this one had no musical talent. We lived without a reliable internet connection, without a kitchen, then without a stove for a time, all of it because we loved the place. We endured construction workers in the house, and there were even days I spent all the daylight hours with two cats, a dog, and myself sitting on the front porch as the kitchen was gutted.

But the time had come; we had to plan for the baby. And we thought perhaps a place where scorpions are as common as dust bunnies isn't the best place for a newborn. Within a week, Matt had come to the rescue again. I was stretched to my limits of stress and ability to cope. I have been in challenging situations before, but it is amazing how little one can handle emotionally when also pregnant.

I remember one drive home from seeing a place Matt liked and I did not, I cried half the way there, and a third of the way back. During that trip, we finally made a decision, then I threw up for the remainder of the way home.

By the time September rolled in, I finally got to see what it was like to just be pregnant. We had moved, school ended, our home life became more simple — although it was still rife with craziness and catastrophes. Our first week in the new place the garage flooded. By week two, the fridge died, then the garbage disposal sprang a leak! Next was the dishwasher. But, that was OK because life had given me a great wealth of experience to compare it too, and at least I wasn't nauseous, fighting killer bees at my head and scorpions at my feet.

Which has become our new motto. Any time we are faced with a challenge or I don't feel well, the conversation always ends with, "at least I'm not nauseous."

Now at six months of pregnancy, I have acid reflux, days of insurmountable exhaustion and sometimes I get stuck on furniture making me look like an upside down turtle. But, hey, at least I'm not nauseous!!! :)

Pied-billed grebe

Pied-billed grebe. ©Teresa Shumaker. 

I am playing a little bit of catch up now. Here is a pied-billed grebe in breeding plumage taken in late March. It was my first time seeing one all decked out. I love the stripe on the beak. The grebe on the other hand did not appreciate my passing by, apparently wanting the wetland all to itself that day. But it gave me some great take off shots.

Pied-billed grebe. ©Teresa Shumaker. 

Pied-billed grebe. ©Teresa Shumaker. 

Hindsight is where laughter can blossum

Some years a theme arises, and the really good and bad years are the ones that stick out in memory for years to come.

It is only August and I already know this year will stick in my mind forever, as the year of chaos — of both good and bad.

I began this summer with a cruise to the Caribbean, during which I discovered I am pregnant. I do not recommend finding out this way, being trapped on a boat full of buffets at every turn for a week. Blech. My friend helped me out so much in the mornings. We would go to the buffet, I would hold my breath, and fill my plate as fast as I could with anything that didn't make me want to wretch (which was mainly fruit) then dash out to the upper decks for fresh ocean air. More on those days later.
(I hope to post photos soon, but every time I look at them my memories of severe nausea come over me. Oh, the joys of morning sickness!)

In July, I found myself in one of the most action-packed college summer sessions of my life — 15 to 20 homework assignments a week! During which I still worked part-time. And, our situation at our crazy farm house went from problems that were an inconvenience to holy crap we need to move now.
Killer bees moved into the house. And when I saw "into" I mean in the rooms, in the walls, everywhere. I woke up from a nap to find three chilling on the pillow next to my head.

Having to deal with all of this, while also low on energy and sick half the time from pregnancy was a new level of stress I had not experienced before.

On the week leading up to finals, we found a new place to live and moved in five days. Matt, who I am certain should be considered for sainthood, drug me through the process as I had one emotional break down after another.

After we signed the lease on our new place, I celebrated by vomiting in the truck on the way home.

Looking back on those days now, only a few short weeks in my past, I can't help but laugh.

We made it. I passed my classes, we moved, nothing was lost, no one was injured. Success.

And, as an added bonus, I now have real internet! Hooray!

Life is full of... chaos

What do tornados, giardia, car alternators, the Caribbean, sea turtles, galas, veterinarians, family visits, and sunny days all have in common?

They are all things that have distracted me from writing in my blog the past month.

I have noticed that over the past six to seven months, my life has kicked into super high gear... and there is no sign of slowing. School begins for me in 3 weeks, and we are finally to the point of considering breaking our lease and moving. (We just discovered there is no official cover to our septic tank was the tipping point. I now know I have a sewage "pit" in my back yard where a tank should be. More on that later.)

Good grief.

I'm exhausted from all the changes and challenges — but I haven't felt so alive!

So, I apologize for my absence. Life has been busy making me busy.

Until I have time to write a proper post, please enjoy this picture of some gorgeous fish taken in the Bahamas a couple weeks ago.

Half Moon Cay, Bahamas. ©Teresa Shumaker

My brain doesn't always work in my favor

I cannot count the amount of times I have stared at a yellow-rumped warbler, thinking it was a new-to-me bird... to then discover it is a bird I have seen before, on which I have spent many elated heartbeats being duped into excitement.

I watched the color blue change instantly into white, when I realized it was a white bird in part sunlight, part shade. (The temperature color of shade is a bluer light than sunlight.)

Each time, my brain adjusts to what I am perceiving. And after training it to notice differences, a group of gulls can suddenly become a group of several species.

But, where my brain has learned to recognize differences, almost as if in karmic payment, it has also learned to spoil my excitement in extraordinary moments, by telling me I am seeing something ordinary.

Which is precisely what happened to me yesterday, when two bobcats crossed the road about 50 yards in front of our truck.

Subconsciously, I knew something exciting was happening. But, the bobcat was just beyond the limits of my near-sightedness, and add the distortion of looking through a windshield, my brain kept telling me I was only seeing a dog.

In contrast, the kinder part of my brain allowed me to start squeaking and fidgeting in a way that alerted Matt I had spotted something fantastic. Unfortunately, the sadistic part of my brain that was convinced I was seeing a dog held me hostage, not allowing my motor controls to respond to my screeching desire to pick up the damn camera!

Thankfully, Matt didn't interpret my internal battle as a stroke, or something, and turn around, AND, I was able to regain control of movement in enough time to get these three pics.

They aren't the best, but for me they are magical!

Bobcat silhouette. ©Teresa Shumaker

Bobcat silhouette. ©Teresa Shumaker

Look closely,  there is a bobcat in this picture. ©Teresa Shumaker