It may be cold and snowy across much of the country, but there’s also beauty in the harsh elements.
This apple tree was the only horizontal plant in this wide-ranging, hillside pasture. The tree and its shadow created a lovely landscape photo.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Finding rare birders is always a memorable experience, no matter one’s level of avian expertise. Since I consider myself an average birder, I always appreciate the opportunity to bird with those who are more knowledgeable than me.
That was the case recently when someone discovered a Say’s Phoebe five miles west of my home near Harrisonburg, Virginia. Having a Say’s Phoebe in the Shenandoah Valley was a rare treat, but seeing it in person became my goal since it would be a life bird.
I first learned about the Say’s Phoebe via an email listserv that reports rare bird sightings. I bundled up and headed to the property where the bird was seen. Several birders were already there scouting the bird. Ironically, the phoebe, which should have been in the southwest U.S. or Mexico, was across the road from where I photographed a Snowy Owl a few weeks earlier.
I walked as quietly as possible on the crunching snow and heard words that diminished my enthusiasm. “There it goes,” one of the birders said. It was late afternoon, and the guess was the phoebe was headed for a warmer roast than the steel pole buildings with three open sides.
I got eyewitness reports of the bird and details of its favorite haunts around the produce auction buildings it frequented during the day. The recommendation was to try in the morning when the bird foraged for dead insects.
That is precisely what I did. Only two other birders were present when I arrived. They had not found it yet. Discouraged, one birder headed to her car but soon turned around, waving her arms furiously.
She had spotted the bird sitting on the handle of a hand pump, a favorite spot for the bird. Say’s Phoebes perch lower to the ground to feed than their cousins, Eastern Phoebes. But both species pump their tales and fly to intercept the insects, often returning to the same or near the same perch. Say’s Phoebes have a long, dark tail and a distinctive orange-to-pink buff belly.
The bird flew into one of the open-sided buildings and continued to snatch dead insects stuck in spiderwebs around the ceiling and security lights. The lovely bird posed enough for us to capture several decent photos.
Satisfied, the woman who spotted the bird departed for other birding hot spots. That left two of us to follow the bird around, which we did for an hour. Given the bird’s feeding behavior, we soon learned to stand in a central location and let the bird fly to us. That strategy paid dividends. My birding companion even recorded the phoebe calling.
The Say’s Phoebe searched high and low for food. Winter in Virginia isn’t insect season, and several inches of snow covered the ground, too. No one knew what brought the bird to the valley, but we were grateful for the opportunity to view it.
I had the photos I wanted in an hour, so I headed home to share the good news with other birders by posting it on several Facebook birding pages. I was happy to add another bird to my life list. This exhilarating encounter was another birding experience I won’t forget.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Today is Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in the United States.
Dr. King was a leader in the civil rights movement in the U.S. from 1955 until he was assassinated on April 4, 1968, in Memphis, Tennessee. He was born on January 15, 1929. Consequently, the federal holiday was designated on the third Monday in January.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Look at this handsome guy! Isn’t he resplendent with his marvelous feather coloration?
This male Northern Flicker regularly visits the peanut butter suet feeder that hangs from the Red Maple tree in our front yard. I can easily see the feeder and the tree from my home office.
This bird has visited the feeder for several months. Unfortunately, the European Starlings have discovered the tasty suet, too. Outnumbered by the gang of noisy birds, the Northern Flicker sat patiently in the morning sunshine until the starlings thinned out. Then, he made his move for breakfast.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Our last full day in Maui became the best of the trip. They saved the best for last.
I signed up for a tour along the Road to Hana, which our daughter had recommended. Knowing it would be an all-day deal and the road would have many hairpin turns, my wife decided to stay at the hotel and rest. That form of travel isn’t her cup of tea.
The day became a win-win for both of us.
I rose early for our day-long adventure. Before boarding the bus, I ate some of the hotel’s boxed breakfast since we would leave before the breakfast buffet opened. Little did I know that the first stop would be 45 minutes away at a grocery store for another boxed breakfast provided by the bus company. We wouldn’t go hungry today.
Our bus driver, Sale (pronounced Sally), was our masterful guide. A native Hawaiian, he started sternly, giving us strict instructions about the dos and don’ts of riding on his bus. But by day’s end, his good-hearted nature tumbled out, embracing us all. He later confessed that he initially and intentionally controls things so everyone has an enjoyable, safe trip. It worked.
Our first actual stop was at the famous Ho’okipa Beach Park. Though I didn’t know it by name, I had seen photos of Hawaiian surfers riding rolling, blue-green waves to its white sandy shore.
It was too early for the surfers, but not the ubiquitous roosters and chickens that roam the islands. They greeted us with their usual clucking. That didn’t spoil our view of the ocean’s relentless pounding of Maui’s gorgeous coastline.
After that scenic stop, it was all twists and turns on the windy, narrow roadway. Sale pulled into a small pullout and introduced us to the Rainbow Eucalyptus tree. The peeling bark revealed the surprise of the trunk’s pastel colors.
As we continued along the coastline, an incredible scene appeared at nearly every curve. The undulating road hugged the lush mountainsides of the rainforest we had entered.
Even through the tinted bus windows, we saw calendar-worthy shots of the rugged coast that appeared to knife into the ocean. Like all the other 131 Hawaiian Islands, Maui is just the tip of a vast volcanic mountain. If these mountains were on land, they would be higher than Mount Everest.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
But instead of driving through mountaintop snow, the bus skirted through lush vegetation and onto picturesque peninsulas dotted with houses, churches, and a few touristy businesses. We couldn’t stay long enough at each stop for me. We had to truck on.
At the Ko’olau Forest Reserve, we observed the lush surroundings of the rushing, falling waters. Other visitors had different ideas. Despite the signs that climbing was prohibited, one man climbed through the dense foliage to the top of the waterfall to show off for his friends. He feigned jumping but instead sat down for a photo.
At the century-old one-lane bridge below, young men took turns hurdling themselves off the bridge over a cliff and plunged into a deep pool created by the falls’ constant crashing. Friends were stationed at strategic locations to view the daredevil leaps. One guy even stood at the edge of the ledge, filming each diver.
At overlooks, local farmers hocked their produce from the beds of pick-ups. They offered free samples of sweet, sticky oranges, two kinds of coconuts, and piles of fruit I couldn’t identify.
Sale kept us moving. Soon, we arrived at Hana, where we lunched at an outdoor pavilion. The proprietor even brought me a gluten-free pizza, which I gladly shared with others.
Hana was our turnaround spot, but it was certainly not the end of our discoveries. We also visited Wainapanapa State Park, which had its own version of a black-sand beach. It was gorgeous and popular.
The beach’s setting was stunning. Lush greenery thriving on mounds of solidified black lava surrounded the beach that gradually slanted into the ocean. Lava cliffs protected the small inlet that led to the beach.
The royal blue waters rolled and miraculously transformed into a frothy white carpet that gently recoiled until another wave struck. Not surprisingly, the beach was busy with folks looking for shells and shark teeth, waders, and people lounging in beach chairs.
As I explored the area, tropical birds I had never seen caught my attention. Some seabirds with white heads and gray bodies hugged the lumpy side of an unusual volcanic rock formation not far from shore. A few flew around the rocks and landed back in a recess. Later, I found out they were Brown Hoodies. Behind me, a small flock of songbirds foraged in grassy spots nearby.
With daylight waning, we needed to keep moving. Still, Sale stopped for photo ops of waterfalls and pristine ocean views.
Sale, our gregarious bus driver
Along the way, Sale pointed out several burned-out vehicles that had crashed and been left on pullouts along the narrow Road to Hana. During the night, vandals had stripped and torched them. He didn’t understand that mentality any more than we did.
What Sale did understand was the Hawaiian way of life. His Hawaiian family roots were deep, and he poignantly shared personal stories of love, loss, and hardship.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
As beautiful and alluring as the islands are, living in a paradise like Hawaii is not easy. The cost of living is the primary driver of difficulty. Gasoline always hovers around $5 a gallon, eggs are $12 a dozen, and milk prices average $10 a gallon. Rent and taxes are high, and if you live away from any urban area, it can take hours to go grocery shopping.
According to Sale, three generations of families cohabitate to make ends meet. It makes for crowded living, but sharing the expenses is the only way most Hawaiians can remain in the lands they have loved for many generations.
Another Hawaiian novelty is a remnant of World War II. Spam, the canned meat, was fed to the troops during the war. The locals liked it so well that it has become a Hawaiian culture staple. Spam musubi is a favorite snack. It’s a sandwich with a rice filling and two pieces of fried Spam wrapped with dried seaweed. Even McDonald’s has capitalized on the fad becoming a tradition. Yes, Spam is on their menu.
The lyrical Hawaiian language also fascinated me. With only 12 letters, five vowels, and seven consonants, it creates lengthy words and names. But the words roll off residents’ tongues like rhythmical waves coming ashore.
Hawaiians are proud, friendly, and willing to share their Polynesian history and love for their beautiful island home. This approach to life defines their culture of inclusion.
Our last stop was where we began. The late afternoon sun shone brightly on Ho’okipa Beach Park’s breakers. A half-dozen surfers bobbed in the water, waiting on the perfect wave.
But Sale wanted us to see something else. We walked 20 yards down the steep access road to the beach and looked down. Giant Green Sea Turtles were coming ashore to bask in the warm sunshine. It was another unscheduled stop that only a local like Sale could gift us.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
As darkness set in, I thought about all we had experienced over these few days. The culture, the bubbly language, the incredible vistas, beaches, Hawaiian history, the importance of family, the inclusion of visitors, balmy breezes, sunny, warm days, and wildlife combined to make this a fantastic trip.
Then, a text from my wife reported that she had tested negative for COVID-19. She celebrated by relaxing in the warmth and fellowship of Maui.
As we prepared to leave the following day, we had our picture taken with yet another rainbow in the background.
If we heard one word consistently from the time we stepped onto Hawaiian soil until we boarded the plane to leave, it was Aloha. Aloha means “hello” and “goodbye.” It’s a verbal representation of Hawaii’s inclusive society.
After saying our goodbyes, we spent most of the day flying home. It was an anti-climatic finale to our marvelous trip.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Today, the nation says farewell to its 39th president. The state funeral will be held in the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C.. In contrast, a private service will be held tomorrow at Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains, Georgia, where Jimmy and Rosalynn attended and Jimmy taught Sunday school.
That’s where the above photo was taken on March 1, 2015. While vacationing in northeast Florida, Neva and I decided to visit Plains and attend the Sunday school class taught by the former president. At age 90, he was reducing how often he led the class.
Jimmy was scheduled to teach the day after we needed to leave Florida, so we drove the four-and-a-half-hour drive from Fernandina Beach to Plains. When we arrived, we drove around Plains, which didn’t take long given the town’s small size. We also visited the Jimmy Carter National Park, where the visitor’s center is the old Plains High School.
We enjoyed our brief tour there and saw the Nobel Peace Prize that Jimmy was awarded in 2002. The old schoolhouse is much like it was when Jimmy attended there.
We also wanted to stay overnight in Plains, but the bed and breakfast had no vacancies. The perk to staying there gave patrons a front-row seat at the church, where the owner, Miss Jan, also attended. Plus, she was Amy Carter’s third-grade teacher.
We met Miss Jan the next day after standing in line for a while. She took charge and barked out the procedures for entering the church, starting with passing through the Secret Service agents’ inspection. Much like filing through TSA at an airport, we emptied our pockets, and agents ran a wand up, down, and around everyone. So, the long line was slow going.
We had arrived early, but many others had arrived earlier. Perhaps they had the same idea. Like us, they had heard the praises of Jimmy’s teaching, and given that he was 90, they wanted an opportunity to listen to this humble former president’s wisdom.
Once in the church, we sat near the back since so many were ahead of us. The modest brick church surrounded by pecan trees wasn’t that large, so we could still see and hear well. Suddenly, Miss Jan appeared again and, like a drill sergeant, metered out the rules of the morning. Once Jimmy began teaching, no photos were permitted.
Since the church was packed, latecomers had to sit in the fellowship hall and watch a live stream of Jimmy Carter’s lesson. That’s how popular his teaching was.
If you wanted a picture with Jimmy and Rosalynn, you had to also stay for the church service. His class was the hour before the worship service. Then, Miss Jan asked us to bow our heads, and she said a lovely prayer. When the “Amen” was announced, we looked up, and Jimmy stood there smiling and waving to the congregation.
A collective “awe” echoed through the sanctuary, and Jimmy began his lesson. I don’t remember the scripture he used, but I can never forget the meaning of his message. Be humble and serve others.
That perfectly summed up Jimmy and Rosalynn’s life after leaving the White House. They established the Carter Center in Atlanta, whose purpose mirrored that of the Carters: peacebuilding, working for democracy in global countries, and improving human rights. Other goals include improving health and economies in third-world countries, ensuring fair elections, and educating people about the effects of climate change.
Jimmy and Rosalynn spent years supporting and assisting on sight Habitat for Humanity projects. They were great humanitarians. From my perspective, Jimmy was the most effective former president the United States ever had.
We stayed for the church service, and afterward, nearly everyone wanted a photo with Jimmy and Rosalynn. Miss Jan had the method down pat, and we got our photo. It was one of the proudest moments of my life to stand next to such loving human beings, an ex-president and a first lady.
Farewell, Godspeed, and thank you, Jimmy!
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
After a hardy breakfast of veggie omelets and fresh fruit, we left for the Maui Ocean Center. We drove through the burned-out section of Lahaina, and I didn’t realize it at first with all the rebuilding that had been done.
However, the many empty lots and scorched concrete block walls bore witness to the devastation. A respectful hush came over the bus. Everyone sensed the apparent dichotomy. As tourists, we embraced the beauty of the islands, its rhythmic language, the friendliness of its handsome people, and pride in their cultures. Yet, they had no homes, and still, they welcomed us. They needed the tourism jobs.
Sections of Lahaina still waiting to be rebuilt. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
Though we left the hotel early, we arrived at the ocean center late. An accident caused a long traffic jam on the two-lane highway to the bay where the aquarium is located. The bus driver said accidents along this stretch of road are frequent.
A guided tour of the Maui Ocean Center gave us a good understanding of the sealife around Hawaii. We watched various fish, sharks, and stingrays swim past the aquarium’s large underwater windows. Humpback Whales breed and give birth in the waters off Maui, but we were a little early to see any whales.
Back at the hotel, we strolled down Black Rock Beach to a seaside restaurant. The locals were getting a headstart on celebrating the holidays. A large Christmas tree stood fully decorated at the end of a walkway to the beach.
The setting, the views, the flowers—everything was gorgeous. Parasails caught the trade winds offshore and glided high above the intoxicating indigo ocean.
After a bit of shopping, we continued to take it all in. We rested on the balcony of our third-floor room, which gave us great views of the catamarans sailing by, teenage boys taking turns jumping off the black lava rocks, and the soothing tropical breeze. We had to pinch ourselves to ensure we weren’t dreaming.
As evening approached, I wanted to get some sunset shots from the beach. I went down early, surprised to see how few people were out and about. Clouds began filling the sky, and I feared the sunset would be a bust. I need not have worried.
Over Pineapple Island, opposite the channel, warm, amber crepuscular rays began to filter through the clouds. They appeared like spotlights against the higher clouds, creating a surreal scene. I wondered what the natives long ago would have thought had they experienced this. Was this a sign from the gods? If so, what did it mean?
I snapped away at my good fortune. Could this vacation get any better? Yes, it did.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
I knew I would like Maui. From the air, Hawaii’s commitment to green energy was evident. Giant white windmills stood out on the black lava mountainsides, and acres of solar panels and agricultural fields stood side by side.
The bright morning sunshine highlighted two cruise ships docked at the small harbor. I was glad there weren’t more.
Lunchtime called when we left the busy little airport that looked more like a Hollywood movie set. We boarded the bus and headed to Paia on Maui’s north coast. Paia’s fame hails back to 1870 when the first sugar cane crop was planted there.
The old town wasn’t built for tourist buses, so we had to exit expediently to avoid blocking traffic. With only 14 passengers, the bus emptied in record time, mainly because we were hungry.
Most of us walked to the Paia Fish Market for fresh seafood. Lunch was on our own, and our tab demonstrated the high cost of living in Paradise. However, given the quality of our seafood, we didn’t quibble.
Soon, we headed to Iao Valley State Monument, which features a phallic rock nicknamed “the Needle,” which the ancients worshiped. I didn’t ask any questions. Once there, I enjoyed an easy hike to the viewing area, which provides a lovely view back down the valley we climbed to reach the monument.
Visitors and their pet dogs lounged in the refreshing, cool waters of a stream that carved the valley millennia ago. I enjoyed the pleasant views and the invigorating air. The adorned natural monument stands between two steep mountainsides.
From there, we drove to the Maui Tropical Plantation, a campus with a restaurant, a large gift shop, and an impressive pond that allowed me to see the Hawai’i state bird, the Hawaiian Goose, or Nene. I also spotted a Black-crowned Night Heron attempting to swallow a big, fat fish. It was still wrestling with the fish when it was time to head to our hotel to check-in.
I secured a seat on the bus’s ocean side and enjoyed the views of the turquoise Pacific Ocean and the many parks and beaches along the way. The island of Lanai, or Pineapple Island, was just across the way.
The bus took the bypass around Lahaina, where the devastating fires broke out and burned much of the historic town. Still, we saw vacant lot after vacant lot. Only a small percentage of buildings and a few homes have been rebuilt. A few hardy people live in campers where their houses once stood.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
When we arrived at our hotel, we found our room had an ocean view in the middle of the resort. We walked around the charming property to orient ourselves and couldn’t believe our good fortune. With these arrangements and the balmy breezes, it was an absolute Paradise. But we were only beginning our incredible stay in Maui.
That evening, we experienced our first sunset and then watched the nightly reenactment of young men diving from the black rocks that jut into the ocean. A single young man with a lighted torch climbed the rocks, reached his arms high to the gods in appreciation of another day, and jumped into the sea. The tradition started from much higher cliffs, but the demonstration was still impressive.
The experience was a marvelous way to finish our first day in Maui, especially with my wife feeling better. We happily wondered what was ahead.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Our fifth day in Hawaii was filled with many wonders and one big downer. My wife woke up not feeling well. She encouraged me to go on the scheduled excursion to explore much of the Big Island. I did so, but reluctantly.
Our day trip had multiple stops, and the local bus driver added some of his favorites, making the exploration day a success. Our first stop wasn’t far from the hotel.
It was a tourist stop, but our guide wanted us to experience a geologic phenomenon. We explored a lava tube formed by molten lava flowing from a volcanic vent through existing lava rock that had solidified years before. Once the lava flowed out, only the outer shell of the flowing lava remained, leaving the tube-like feature. It was the first of several intriguing stops.
We drove south high above the ocean to our west. Lucious vegetation captured our attention as the bus maneuvered the two-lane highway on it wound its way up, down, and around the parameters of the island.
The island’s official name is Hawaii, and it is located in the county of Hawaii in the state of Hawaii. Consequently, the locals prefer Kona to avoid confusion, and I concur.
Near the island’s southern tip, an overlook affords splendid views of previous lava flows and the blue Pacific. Miles away, we could see the southernmost point of the US. Sorry, Key West. No haze, cell towers, or skyscrapers spoiled the view. Giant windmills turned in the tropical wind. From our vantage point, they looked like children’s pinwheels.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
I wished my wife could have seen this. I kept wondering how she was doing and hoped for a signal to check in with her. I would have to wait a while longer than I wanted.
The landscapes and foliage changed drastically as the bus driver adeptly navigated the undulating and winding curves. The land was either barren and chunked up black lava or many shades of green with pastures, shrubs, and trees of all shapes and sizes.
Every now and then, we saw another Hawaiian human-caused phenomenon. Because of the rural nature of the islands and the tricky terrain for motorized vehicles to maneuver, crashes are frequent. Instead of towing the wrecked cars, they are pushed off the roadway and over the hillside where they stay. This only applies to vehicles deemed not worth towing.
Many demolished cars, trucks, and vans were either stripped of their valuables, burned out, or both. They had been there long enough for young trees to grow through the tipped-over junkers. This practice seems to run counter to the nearly litter-free islands. Recycling is the norm in Hawaii, with old, crashed vehicles apparently exempted.
When we reached the tiny village of Naalehu, we stopped at the southernmost bakery in the US. The Portuguese donuts were scrumptious. I only ate one but took one back for my wife.
Too soon, we were back on the road, heading north. The ocean was on the right, and slush pastures dotted with windswept and stunted trees on the steep slope of a volcano on the left. This was the windward east side of Kona, where the prevailing winds bring ample rains compared to the western part of the island.
We arrived at Punalu’u Black Sand Beach Park and were pleasantly surprised. As we approached the beautiful beach, I noticed popup canopies, and many people stood around observing.
Our visit was well-timed. Scientists, professors, and marine biology students from the University of Hawaii were capturing, evaluating, and tagging Green Sea Turtles. In fact, a few large ones lay on the beach, absorbing the warmth of the noontime sun.
Since we had lunch reservations at our primary destination, our time on the beach was limited. The black sand is the product of lava being eroded and pulverized many times to form the beach.
The bus steadily climbed the gradual slope to the Hawaii Volcanos National Park’s visitors center, where a tasty lunch awaited us. After lunch, we joined our guide outside.
I was expecting a tall volcanic cone where we peered over the edge to look down into the crater. I underestimated the size and power of these massive domes. It was at least a half mile away. I think Manhattan could fit inside Kilauea’s gigantic crater.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
I also expected strong odors to emit from the caldera. Instead, it mainly was steam from vents along the volcano’s sides, although the fumes from Kilauea’s center would have been noxious.
To get a closer look, some of the group walked with our guide along an abandoned highway about half a mile. We could more closely see the steam rising from the crater’s center.
Several birds popped out before us on our way back to the bus. We headed back down the mountain, through the aptly named little burg of Volcano, and on to Hilo, the island’s largest town.
We stopped at Rainbow Falls in Wailuku River State Park, and I finally had a signal to contact my wife. She had Covid. Our guide jumped into action and tried to find an urgent care facility where Neva could be seen. However, all three were either closed or about to close, so my dear wife had to take a cab to the local hospital emergency room, where she spent four hours before being seen. All she wanted was a prescription for Paxlovid, which the ER doctor faxed to the local pharmacy.
Our guide assured us Neva and I could continue on the tour. She said the tour company treats COVID-19 like the flu. We would isolate on the bus and wear masks when around others. With only 14 people on the tour and riding a bus for 46 passengers, we could easily comply. I informed the other group members, and they were most understanding and concerned.
Darkness began to fall as we headed west up over a pass that took us past several volcano domes. The twilight gave them an eerie appearance. My poor wife didn’t arrive back at the hotel until 11 p.m.
We spent the next day relaxing around the hotel after I retrieved Neva’s prescription. I did some birding and enjoyed exploring the nooks and crannies on the hotel property while my wife rested. We finished the day watching mantarays feed in the shallow waters along the lava rocks in front of the hotel.
The next day, it was off to Maui!
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Wildlife photos from the Chesapeake Bay region
Culture and Communities at the Heart Of India
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