Saturdays mean sleeping in, making coffee, and then taking pictures of the sunrise. Today’s sunrise happened at 9:46.
I need a panoramic mount for my camera. Getting this one to match-up was real pain, and it still isn’t perfect. That’s what I get for rotating my body and not the camera and lens.
I’ve added some new pictures to the photography site, including a few from our recent visit to Indiana. Enjoy!
I always enjoy my visits to the local veterinary clinic. Especially if I’m there doing tech work, and not because our dog shook hands with a porcupine using her face. One week it’s puppies, the next an eagle that was found flopping around on the beach with a broken wing. This week, it was an owl.
A Northern Hawk Owl, to be exact.
It had apparently fared the worse in a contest with a large window. The day before, it was wobbly and couldn’t do much at all, but when I saw it, it had recovered sufficiently enough to sulk in its cage and soundly ignore the pieces of chicken breast and baby hamsters (don’t ask) that were occasionally pushed towards it.
It still couldn’t fly, and seemed to want to protect its left side. It flopped around the room for a minute, then settled in to stare at us staring at it.
It wasn’t very big, especially since everything in Alaska seems to default to Supersized.
Owlbert (no, I didn’t name it that, the vet tech and the doctor did) made its first flight since the accident, though not with its wings, when it took an airplane up to Anchorage to finish out its rehabilitation with wild bird experts on Saturday.
Update 11/11/09: I’ve been informed that the owl is recovering nicely, and is gladly eating whatever tiny and squirming food is placed in its cage.
Every year in Homer (as of 6 years ago, anyway), a group of artists gets together and creates a basket on the Homer Spit. A really big basket. After decorating it with art, photos, ribbons, lists of thoughts/wishes/memories/slogans/etc. and having a meal, they burn it to the ground and have a party.
Welcome to Homer’s Burning Basket celebration. BYOD (bring your own drum), BYOFDE (bring your own fire dancing equipment), no dogs or alcohol allowed.
One of my pictures even made it on the front of the Tribune this past week: Fire Dance
From our friends at Commuknitty Stash, during this past Saturday’s Farmer’s Market:
