nature photography – Page 17 – Roadkill Crossing

A Photo Essay: Following the Path of Apostle Paul – Day 2

This was a day I had long anticipated. Neither my wife nor I had ever been to Greece, and I especially looked forward to visiting the Acropolis. Our tour group of two dozen people saw some of the locations the Apostle Paul did on his multiple trips around the Mediterranean Sea. Linford Stutzman, a retired professor from Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg, Virginia, and his wife, Janet, led the trip.

The Acropolis was an easy walk from our hotel in Athens. Before we gathered on the narrow street in front of the hotel, I noticed a large crane extending from our side of the street to the top floor of the apartment building across the way. It was set up to deliver some heavy marble countertops for the kitchen that was being remodeled.

Walking down to street level, I noticed a young woman photographing every step. I asked her if that was her apartment, and she said she was a civil engineer in charge of the project. She was documenting how the crane would get the heavy pieces up to the apartment for another client in London, England, who would do the same thing.

About that time, city workers came down the alley, pressure washing the sidewalks and the street. No construction crew would stop them. They merely worked around them and kept going.

The rest of the group arrived, and we were off for the Acropolis. However, before entering the historic grounds, Linford wanted to give us some background on Paul and the sermon he delivered on Aropagus Hill, sometimes referred to as Mars Hill, as outlined in Acts 17:22–31.

From the hill, we could see the reconstructed Stoa of Attalos next to the Ancient Agora of Athens, where Paul spent time observing and conversing. Beyond was the sprawling city of modern Athens.

After Linford’s talk, we were free to explore the Acropolis independently. The lines for tickets were long, but since we had tickets for mid-morning, we walked right in. Climbing the steps through and around those ancient columns was thrilling. When we reached the top, the Parthenon dominated the view.

Like many old structures, the Parthenon is being repaired and stabilized for future generations. We had to watch our steps as we went. Old and worn rocks protruded from the walkways or were sunken into them. On the far side of the Parthenon, one elderly lady had fallen because of the uneven footing. Trained emergency personnel were working with her.

I was amazed at all the broken columns and cornices lying around. Most were roped off so visitors wouldn’t bother them. Many were piled up and cataloged in other areas atop the Acropolis.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the temperature heated up. We decided to head back down the way we came. I was shocked at the number of people working their way up, making our exit difficult.

We headed for the Museum of the Acropolis just down the hill. Our first stop was the cafe for a light lunch and to cool off. The museum was huge and had thousands of artifacts from the Acropolis and explanations of their meaning and importance.

Another interesting feature was that the museum was built over an active archeological dig. I found that fascinating and enjoyed seeing the various rooms of the homes being excavated. The water and sewer systems were equally interesting.

After resting a while, the group hiked to the site of the original modern-day Olympics, which began in 1896. The stadium is now reconstructed but does contain a few pieces of masonry from the original Olympic stadium. Of course, we visited the museum and gift shop. Our group ended the day with a nice meal together.

Tomorrow: On to Corinth.

September’s Super Harvest Moon

September’s Super Full Moon watched while the band played on.

My wife and I had a triple treat last evening. We went to a football game to watch our grandson and granddaughter march in the marching band at their homecoming football game.

Besides playing the mellophone, Davis is also the assistant drum major for the band. Maren is an eighth grader and was invited along with 59 other eighth graders to play with the high school band.

Those were the evening’s first two treasures.

The third put the icing on the cake. We watched September’s Super Harvest Moon slink over the Massennutten Mountain and into a broken cloud deck. The moon played peek-a-boo with us for several minutes until it finally broke through to the higher, clear skies.

It was an enjoyable evening all around.

Summer’s Last Sunset

Silhouetted trees at sunset. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

The Autumnal Equinox was a week ago for those living in the Northern Hemisphere. I was fortunate to catch the summer’s last sunset as I stepped out the front door of our daughter’s house in Harrisonburg, Virginia.

It had been cloudy all day, so the illuminated western sky was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t have my camera along, so all these photos were captured by my iPhone 14 mini.

When my wife and I reached an open spot on a hill behind Eastern Mennonite University, the sunset was reaching its peak. I snapped my way to the space that provided an unobstructed view of the Allegheny Mountains 30 miles away.

I was amazed at the various colors that summer’s final sunset produced. The blues and pinks hung high in the evening sky. Closer to the horizon, the warmer colors dominated.

It was a pretty punctuation mark on a summer that brought tornadoes, flooding, drought, wildfires, and days on end of gray skies here in the usually picturesque Shenandoah Valley.

Mole Hill is in the foreground left and the Allegheny Mountains are beyond.

American Flamingos in Pennsylvania

One of two American Flamingos near Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

This is how birding works. Just before my wife and I left to visit our 16-month-old grandson and his parents in Rochester, NY, a friend in Florida posted on social media about American Flamingos being spotted in a farm pond in south-central Pennsylvania.

I knew we couldn’t stop on the way up, but I hoped beyond hope that the birds would still be there when we left for our home in the Shenandoah Valley on Monday. I checked the American Birding Association’s rare bird alert daily as we enjoyed visiting with our son and his young family.

On Monday morning, the birds were still there and reportedly very easy to see. In all my years of birding, I’ve heard that before, only to arrive five minutes after the birds flew off into the sunset. In the birding world, that’s called “dipping.”

It was a six-hour drive from Rochester to St. Thomas Township, Franklin County, Pennsylvania. When we left Rochester, the day was partly sunny. By the time we reached the state line of the Keystone State, it started to rain. I kept my mind on my driving. I wanted to see those birds, but we had to get there first. So, I drove carefully.

The ABA rare bird alert included the GPS coordinates, so I figured we would drive right to the farm pond, which we almost did. We had Waze plugged into the car’s GPS system while I used my Google Maps for backup. I wasn’t taking any chances.

I am so glad I did because Waze said we had arrived when all we had were fields on the right and a line of houses on the left. My Google Maps saved the day, and we circled around and found Pond Lane.

The countryside was gorgeous. Puffy white clouds floated by in a bright blue sky. The large, rolling fields of soybeans served as a two-tone yellow and green carpet below. Fieldstone farmhouses and red barns dotted the landscape.

Soybeans beneath a late summer sky.
Sweeping fertile fields.
The old homestead.
Fields, forests, and mountains.
The old stone house and Black Angus in the shade.
A mountain in the backyard.

As we approached from the west, I smiled because I could see a string of cars parked along the road and birders on the opposite side looking through spotting scopes and binoculars. As I slowly approached the scene, my wife shouted, “I see one!” I parked the car in the first space on the north side of the road and raced to the spot where my wife saw the flamingo.

Sure enough, there it was. The beautiful pink bird was standing on one leg in the middle of the shallow pond. It had its head tucked under its left wing, sleeping. I got a quick photo between two trees and then walked up to where most birders stood with an unobstructed view. It was a little farther away, but we could see it clearly through the binoculars and my camera’s viewfinder.

My wife helped steady me in the warm wind rushing over and down the nearby Appalachian Mountains to the west. Once the bird awoke, it waded, fed, and preened in the afternoon sun. I asked another birder where the second flamingo was. I didn’t like the answer.

Please click on the photos to enlarge them.

In the early morning hours after sunrise, a snapping turtle bit the other flamingo in the leg, injuring it. A wildlife rehab center was notified, and personnel arrived and captured the injured bird. Surgery was performed to fix the broken leg. It still remains in their care.

The other flamingo continued to thrill birders who arrived from near and far. How did birds that should be in the Bahama Islands and the Florida Keys get to Pennsylvania? The most plausible answer is that Hurricane Idalia blew them north.

That is the accepted answer because American Flamingos were located in 10 states, some well inland like these birds. Birders from other states were chiming in on the social media conversations, wishing for the flamingos to be found in their states, too.

Why such fuss over the flamingos? Well, in every state except Florida, the sighting of the flamingos was a record first for each of those states. Birders take their hobby seriously. Consequently, they keep many lists and records by recording the bird species, where it was seen, the date(s), and times. The Cornell Laboratory in Ithaca, New York, is the official state and national records compiler.

I had seen flamingos in Florida and Texas before, but seeing this beautiful bird so far inland was extra special. And it was all thanks to a hurricane.

The farm pond in Pennsylvania where the American Flamingo was observed. The bird is just right of the willow tree in the foreground. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

Exploring the Newest National Park

The view from Grandview Point. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

Located east of Beckley, West Virginia, New River Gorge National Park and Preserve is a gem of a place. My wife and I recently visited there for two days. Our goal was to see the New River Gorge Bridge. We experienced much more than that. Also, I finally learned an important life lesson.

Because we usually avoid driving on I-81, we took Virginia 42 southwest through the Allegheny Highlands’ beautiful hills, valleys, small towns, and mountain gaps. We stopped at Augusta Springs Wetlands to bird along the boardwalk. We saw a number of lovely wildflowers and 21 species of birds. The next stop was the Humpback Covered Bridge west of Covington, Virginia.

But it was the national park we wanted to see most. The park has four visitor centers because of its mountainous terrain and steep gorge. Sandstone Visitor Center was our first stop just off I-64. The helpful ranger gave us excellent advice on the roads to travel and what to expect.

Our first stop was the observation area of Sandstone Falls. They were as beautiful as advertised, but the falls weren’t running at full force with so little rain this summer. We drove along the railroad tracks to the quaint town of Hinton, where we crossed to the west side of the New River. We drove north a few miles to reach the boardwalk that took us near the river’s main flow.

Eastern section of Sandstone Falls.
Rapids and Sandstone Falls.
Eastern side of Sandstone Falls.
Spicebush Swallowtail on Cardinal Flower.
The western section of Sandstone Falls.
Western section of Sandstone Falls.
The fastest flow.

I wanted to get a closer shot, so I headed across an island of ancient debris of huge boulders smoothed by years of flowing water. Scattered among the rocks were large trunks of trees, their bark long scoured away. It finally hit me that I shouldn’t have attempted this trek. I eased my way over rocks and rivulets to the shore of the river’s main course. I got the shots I wanted and returned to the boardwalk via an easier route.

Our next stop was Grandview, and what a view it was. We looked down 1,000 feet to see one of the horseshoe bends of the New River. The sun bathed the hillside forests and illuminated the riverside train tracks.

On the second day, we headed to the nearly abandoned town of Thurmond, a boomtown in the coal mining heydays. Today, only five folks live there. They all serve on the town council. One is the mayor, one is the secretary and the other three serve as council members. It was fascinating to walk the town of the once thriving businesses. Fortunately, the daily Amtrak train stopped to pick up a lone passenger while we were there. As the train pulled away, I realized a freight train had stopped on the mainline, allowing the Amtrak train to pass. It was a double treat for this train enthusiast.

On the way out of Thurmond, the road snaked along Dunlop Creek and a train track. Because of the steep descent of the topography, the creek had many rapids and small waterfalls. The sun broke through the thick tree canopy to highlight one of the falls.

Finally, we took in the magnificence of the historic New River Gorge Bridge. The bridge carries U.S. 19. Consequently, the visitor center and the observation boardwalks were much more crowded than the other locales.

I wanted to get a photo of the bridge from the river view. The only way to do that was to wind our way down narrow roadways with several sharp switchbacks. There were a few places to stop along the way, including one right under the famous bridge.

We continued down the twisting road, the river’s rapids on the right, bearing their white teeth. Soon we made a sharp, right-hand turn and drove across the old bridge to the designated parking lot. I told my wife I was heading to the bridge we had just crossed to photograph the New River Gorge Bridge, which spans 3,030 feet across the New River Gorge and is 876 feet above the river. The bridge is the longest single-span arch bridge in the world.

Rafters about to hit the rapids.
The New River Gorge Bridge.
The New River Gorge with the old bridge in the lower right.
Under the bridge.
Rafters and the old bridge.
The size of the boulders and the old bridge.
Running the rapids.
The New River Gorge Bridge taken from the old bridge.

However, I got distracted. I first heard and then saw whitewater rafters running the rapids with others waiting their turn. So, I hustled toward the water’s edge only to discover even bigger boulders than I had at Sandstone Falls. Wanting close-up shots, I scrambled across the rocks as carefully as I could. But the rafters were faster than this 75-year-old grandfather with a bad back and weak knees. Though only 50 feet from the water, I knew I should stop for safety’s sake. I got a few photos, including one lone kayaker who got turned around and bounced through the whitewater backward, just missing a giant rock. As soon as he hit calm water, he headed to the eastern shoreline to compose himself. I was doing the same in preparation for meeting my wife since I had been gone long enough to take the bridge photos and be back already.

After 52 years of marriage, I knew that look when I told her what I had done. I confessed that I should not have gone down there alone on those large slippery rocks. I hustled to get the coveted New River bridge photos. We drove back under the bridge on the switchback narrow roadway until we reached US 19.

The thrills I got from these two days easily could not block out my aches and pains. We learned a lot about the newest national park. And finally, after seven and a half decades, I realized I wasn’t 25 anymore.

Amish Farm Reflection

Rippled by a light breeze, this large pond proved the perfect foreground for this Amish farm near Walnut Creek in Holmes County, Ohio.

To the Clouds

Please click on the photo to enlarge it.

The windrows of the fresh-cut alfalfa and the dark green rows of cornstalks seem to reach to the sky, thanks to the rolling field’s topography. In actuality, the fluffy cumulous clouds rolled over the Blue Ridge Mountains 40 miles east of Harrisonburg, Virginia.

Those are the raw details. The scene’s stark beauty speaks for itself.

Expect the Unexpected

A male Indigo Bunting preening along the Appalachian Trail.

Whenever I go exploring, I can always expect the unexpected. It’s what drives me to get out of doors.

I headed to Shenandoah National Park to mainly photograph butterflies. I had seen photos from the park with Turks Cap Lilies blooming. Those lovely flowers are magnets for butterflies.

I knew a place in the park where I had previously seen butterflies flock to the beautiful lilies. It happened to be where the Appalachian Trail crosses Skyline Drive. The location also had a parking lot designed primarily for day hikers.

I pulled in and was immediately disappointed. No Turks Cap Lilies were to be found. Across the road, other wildflowers were blooming, so I started heading there.

When I go to the park, it should be no surprise that I multitask. My camera is strapped across my left shoulder for easy access, and my binoculars dangle around my neck for wildlife spotting, especially birds.

Just as I reached the crosswalk, a bird flushed out of the undergrowth to a dead tree limb at the forest’s edge. It was a male Indigo Bunting, always a beautiful bird to see.

I stopped, swung my camera around, aimed, focused, and clicked away. As I did so, this beautiful bird began to preen in the morning sunshine. The lighting was perfect, and the bird entertained me for several minutes before a passing car caused it to dive for cover.

Butterflies were few and far between as I checked in at different locations in the park. Nevertheless, watching this enchanting bird for those precious minutes made the trip worthwhile.

A 360-degree Sunset

The zoomed view west. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

Since our home faces north, I always have to keep a sharp lookout for a lovely sunset. When I noticed the southern sky turned golden last evening, I grabbed my cameras and headed to a nearby farm pasture to get a good view to the west.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I exited my car. The sky lit up in every direction with varying and rapidly changing intensities. I did my best to capture the unfolding beauty surrounding me.

The glow to the west was filled with a variety of warm colors. A large cloud curved and swirled overhead, reflecting the setting sun in many hues north and east. To the south, the sky was more pink than orange. Added altogether, I felt privileged to inhale the enveloping wonder.

The slideshow provides views from every direction.

The full view to the west.
The view to the south.
The view to the north.
The view to the east.

July’s Exit

On the last day of July, puffy white clouds floated lazily over Silver Lake in the tiny town of Dayton, Virginia. It was a fitting end to a crazy hot month with little rainfall here in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.

A gentle breeze ruffled the placid, shallow lake enough to seemingly digitalize the sky’s reflection. Its effect highlighted the heavenly scene above the old barn and farmhouse.

Today begins the dog days of August. It was pleasing to experience July’s cool exit, knowing the eighth month can often bring brutal temperatures and little precipitation in North America.