Inspired by others doing their NaBloPoMo posts, I realized that it has been a very long time since I got out our digital SLR camera and took some photos. Well over a year, probably.
For awhile there, I was determined to learn what I could about the camera, about different aspects of taking pictures, and to try to make myself a better photographer. And I really enjoyed it, and thought I was improving.
But, life being as it is, I couldn’t keep at it. So I thought to myself that maybe it was time to start again.
Yesterday I grabbed the camera and decided to just start firing off some pics and get a feel for things again. Which is why I decided to get some pictures of Squirrelpalooza. Despite having to take a lot of shots through the screen and the glass, it gave me a lot of variety of things to capture. So I shut off the flash, put it on auto, and started clicking.
Most mornings, I feed the local yokels, putting out bird seed and peanuts. Normally, this means we’re inundated with squirrels.
Some days, a jay or two will come and hoot and whistle and call and let the others know that dinner’s on.
But mostly, it’s the squirrels.
I’m getting to know them all pretty well now, on sight or by personality. There are two or three very chubby little gray fellows who come and eat like frat boys at a buffet.
There are a couple of little, very saucy black fellows, who I think may be this year’s models, who are bold enough to raid the bird feeder the second my back is turned, even if they’ve been chased off moments before.
And then, there’s Little Mama.
Little Mama has been coming to feed for a couple of years now, tired and fat and pregnant in the spring, big boobies in the summertime — and I always make sure she gets something special.
I know it is her by the freckle on her nose, and one between her shoulderblades. And, because she comes and knocks on the window and peers in at eye level until someone notices her.
And now the entire world can see just how dirty our patio window is. Ahem.
Mama knows me on sight, and by the sound of my voice. She will be 100 feet away in the conservation area, but if she sees me at a window, she will come running.
All the others (except our chipmunk friend Pip, who is hibernating now) eat out in the yard. Mama’s the only one who gets her own little pile of peanuts on the top step.
I try to make sure all our little friends have food for the winter, but Little Mama especially. (And the little guy with the tufty ear hair, who looks enough like her that he may even be one of her babies.) I enjoy doing it, my daughter enjoys it, and all this excitement out in the yard is like endless Cat TV for the resident felines.
And I haven’t even mentioned some of our bigger friends, who stay beyond the fence.
They’re for another day. Preferably one where I have the zoom lens.