With the sun behind this bird, it may be hard to discern the species. But birders use other clues to identify birds when conditions prevent seeing the bird directly.
When I cleared a hill on a gravel road, I didn’t spot this Eastern Kingbird right away. I stopped my vehicle as smoothly as I could without skidding on the loose gravel.
First, I noted the bird’s size. Secondly, its posture was distinctive for an Eastern Kingbird. In addition, the habitat was right for this species. Eastern Kingbirds love open, weedy fields, which were behind the bird, with trees nearby, which were on the east side of the road.
The white feathers at the tip of its tail were another field mark. When you are birding, you have to take the shots you are given and be happy with that.
As a photographer, I was happy with the composition of this shot, despite the strong backlighting.
I snapped this photo of a Red-tailed Hawk soaring on a thermal over a fallow farm field. I never saw the Turkey Vulture that photobombed the image until I checked the photo on the camera’s back screen.
Both bird species are common in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, one of the leading agricultural counties in the Commonwealth. Most farms supplement their grain and hay crops with milk cows, beef steers, and especially poultry barns.
Consequently, there are plenty of food supplies for both the hawks and the vultures, with dead carcasses sometimes hauled to the back 40 acres for disposal. Deer/vehicle collisions are also common, providing more opportunities for nature’s natural scavengers to feast to the full.
Two birds with one shot. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
The angle of the seemingly interconnected wings of the two birds also intrigued me. Of course, with the Red-tailed Hawk higher than the sailing vulture, the large black bird was no threat to the Buteo jamaicensis.
It’s hard to believe, but today is the first day of August.
August is notorious for hot, hazy, humid days, better known as the Dog Days of Summer. But as this photo from August 2024 shows, when a cold front pushed through, it used the energy from the heat and humidity, along with the dew point, to create some pop-up thunderstorms.
The cooling after the storms is a welcome relief, but given August’s reputation, the pleasant weather seldom lasts.
Of course, August offers more than uncertain weather. County and state fairs are held. Back-to-school sales entice parents and their offspring to purchase new clothing for their students, who will soon begin a new school year.
Farmers are literally making hay and hoping for rain to quench their grain crops. Golden, hazy sunsets will close out productive August days.
And for the record, August officially begins the fall bird migration, with some birds already molting into their non-breeding plumage.
So, welcome to August, and embrace all that she has to offer.
An August thunderstorm formed over Shenandoah National Park. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
The resurrected Rising Sun Redbud tree. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
A year ago, my wife and I came home to find our lovely Rising Sun Redbud had been badly damaged in a severe thunderstorm. It had been perfectly shaped with a beautiful canopy of multicolored leaves.
After the storm’s strong winds had their way with the poor tree, it looked disheveled. It had to be significantly trimmed back, leaving only the back half of the canopy.
How the tree looked late last summer after the trimming. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh 2025
I wasn’t sure what would happen this year, especially after the unusually harsh winter we had, followed by a 22-degree freeze in late May. That hard freeze withered all of the sprouted leaves. I wasn’t very hopeful.
Nature, in her impulsively resilient renewal, proved me wrong. Today, the tree has produced a new crop of leaves that are as pretty and robust as the ones before the killing frost.
Life’s storms come and go. Nature rebounds despite our fears and doubts. Our resurrected Rising Sun Redbud is proof.
The new canopy of the Rising Sun Redbud tree. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
About this time every summer, a marvel of nature appears in our neighbor’s backyard. A fairy circle or ring appears almost overnight.
The appearance of a lone mushroom is the first sign of the false parasol fungi. By evening, several others have formed an arch. The white caps contrast nicely with the vibrant grass.
Though the fungi seem to be separate ones popping up, they are actually all connected underground. The arch or ring grows as the fungus seeks food underneath the exposed mushrooms, which are not edible.
The fairy rings are naturally occurring and, according to folklore and myth, can bring either good or bad luck. They are also called elf circles or pixie rings. By the time the neighbors mowed their yard, the fungi were the size of dinner plates.
Fairy rings mostly appear in grassy areas, but are also seen in forests. Wherever they show up and in what formation, the fungus is a sight to see.
One of the beaches at Reid State Park, Georgetown, Maine. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Reid State Park lies a mile across the bay from the cottage where we stayed. To get there by car, we drove seven miles.
The park serves as an access to the ocean for the general public. It also stands as a stark reminder of Mainers’ desire to preserve and protect their precious and lovely coastline from too much commercial development.
Diana, our host, wanted us to experience the park the way other visitors do. It was also an opportunity for a wider perspective of the Atlantic Ocean than what we could see from her cottage in the woods across the way.
Young girls braved the waves. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
With the tide high, the waves rolled in to the joy of the water lovers of all ages. Young girls braved the strong waves, trying to stay erect against the crashing force. Their mother stood on alert where the waves turned to foam.
Wanting to try to ride the larger waves ashore, teenagers snagged a driftwood log and walked it bravely into the breakers. I was afraid to watch further.
Ducks also rode the waves close to shore and out of the wind. Gulls perched on rocks or pestered picnickers for any discarded scraps. Song Sparrows darted from scrubs to sea oats in search of proper food. I stood on the giant metamorphic rocks for an elevated view of all the action.
People searched the tide pools in the rocks for any trapped fish and starfish. The park featured no water slides or swimming pools. The purpose was to enjoy all that nature offered, from water-worn boulders, sandy beaches, and birds and butterflies.
When we returned to the cottage, low tide revealed the tidal flats of sweep sand for all to enjoy in the park and beyond.
Low tide expands the park’s “beach” exponentially. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
A cornfield with a view in rural Maine. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Somehow, we left New Hampshire for next-door Maine and ended up in Norway.
We left North Conway, New Hampshire, and the GPS took us on an unexpected route. We drove all country roads on the way to Maine’s capital, Augusta. We passed through one small town after another. Winding roads lined by deciduous and evergreen trees and occasional farm fields connected all the towns to one another.
We drove through Fryeburg, Lovell, Sweden, and Waterford. But we had to stop in Norway. Unlike the other burgs, welcoming storefronts lined Norway’s Main Street. It was lunchtime, so we decided to stop.
The quirky creativity of Norway, Maine.
When we exited our vehicle, music drew us eastward along Main Street. We looked for a restaurant as we went. We found the source of the music in no time. A lone musician played at the town’s weekly farmer’s market across the street.
We checked it out and kept walking. The entrance to the local food coop stopped me in my tracks. Its eclectic entrance earned a photo. A few paces later, I stopped again to take a photo of the Weary Club of Norway Maine.
I had no idea what that was, and they weren’t meeting, so I looked it up. The “wearies” formed their social club 100 years ago. They were “the Shakers and Dealers in cedar shavings, social gossip, political wisdom, and Yankee philosophy.”
The Kennebec Cabin Company. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Not finding a place to eat, we kept moving over the rolling, tree-studded landscape and stopped in Manchester, Maine, at the Maine Cabin Masters gift shop and restaurant. Its official name is the Kennebec Cabin Company.
We ate outdoors in the shade to avoid the extreme heat. The house is the gift shop with the typical tourist offerings and prices.
After lunch, we checked out the striking state capital building and drove to an adjacent town set on the bank of the Kennebec River for some ice cream. It was a refreshing way to end an intriguing day.
The Maine State Capitol Building. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
This is how the famous mountain looked after we completed our round-trip excursion. From the left, the Mt. Washington Hotel, the cog railway, and the peak itself. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
We left our friends’ home in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom for an hour’s drive to the Cog Railway in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire. We arrived in plenty of time and discovered that we could take the 11 o’clock train instead of the noon one.
The other options for getting to the revered mountaintop are to drive up the private road, pay to ride up in a van, or walk up and back via the Appalachian Trail. My wife ruled out the first two, and our age and physical shape ruled out the other.
After receiving the rules for riding the railway, we boarded our car with the biodiesel engine at the rear to push us up the mountain. We followed two other such “trains” up the tracks.
The seats were slanting forward rather than at a 45-degree angle, which was uncomfortable at first. That soon changed as we chugged forward, and our seats felt comfortable as they adjusted to the mountain’s steep incline.
The fastest we clackety-clacked up the cog rails was five miles per hour. So, it took nearly an hour to get to the top.
When we left the station, we could see the mountain’s top with passing clouds. When we arrived atop Mt. Washington, we were in the clouds with only occasional views and a few hints of sunshine.
We had 50 minutes to eat lunch, which we took along, and to explore the historic mountaintop. Sudden bursts of sunshine interrupted my snack lunch. I rushed outside to capture whatever I could see. The view west was a wall of gray.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
I could see east and north, however. I saw the Appalachian Trail, which winds up and down the mountain. Cairns marked its path instead of white blazes on trees. A few hikers trekked amid the cloudy mist.
Having been to that area seven years ago, I could identify the Wildcat Ski area and the scenic New Hampshire Route 16 that runs from Gorham south through Pinkham Notch and down the valley to Conway.
So, the $100-a-piece ride wasn’t a complete bust. However, in the hour it took to return to the base station, the sky had cleared. Mt. Washington stood as handsome as ever above all the other presidential peaks.
Proof we made it to the top. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
The iconic view of Stowe, VT, without the fall colors. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Before visiting friends in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom, my wife and I enjoyed the eye-pleasing scenery of the Green Mountain State.
After a stop at Cabot’s Cheese, we visited Stowe, Vermont’s tourist magnet. Despite the excessive heat, we weren’t disappointed. The young lady at the visitor center helped us make the most of our limited time there.
The Little River flows behind the Stowe Community Church. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
We walked through part of the town to photograph the iconic church with its towering steeple and to find the recommended restaurant for a refreshing salad and hydration. We found both.
After lunch, we took the Stowe Hollow self-guiding tour and found some incredible scenes even in summer. I can only imagine these vistas decked out in fall’s brilliant, warm colors.
Even with fifty shades of green all around, we found the countryside surrounding Stowe stunning. From unique barns and homes with views to covered bridges and the Green Mountains as the backdrop, we left Stowe amazed but ready to fellowship with our friends.
This American Robin knows how to beat the heat. It sat in this birdbath cooling off for the longest time. It didn’t splash or move around like the birds usually do while in the birdbath.
The robin just sat and enjoyed the pleasure of being still and cool. It’s a lesson for all of us to stay cool during this prolonged heatwave.
American Robin keeping cool. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
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