Happy Easter!

Happy Easter to all and to all a good Yuri's Night!

A Couple Of Cool Things South Of Walnut

Today was a day for a drive so the Wife and I went to Walnut, Iowa for some antiquing and picture taking.  On the way home we headed south to get a picture of the B-24 bomber memorial south of town.  The memorial, a model of a B-24 that turns with the wind,  is for a B-24 that crashed there in 1944 killing all seven of the flight crew.

After taking this picture, and as we left, I noticed something across the road in a nearby farm field.

We thought the tree might be behind the silo and the whole thing was an illusion but, after we turned around and went back for a closer look (yes, we turned around and went back to look at a silo and a tree), We saw that the tree was growing out of the silo.  Here's a view looking up through a hatch in the silo.

It was pretty cool.  Of course, your standard of coolness may be different from mine but you would have thought it was cool if you'd been there.  Trust me.

Photograph: I Madonnara 2007 - 017

"I Madonnara 2007 - 017"
by Bruce H.

Top Fifty For ManyHighways

Congrats to the GodSon (ManyHighways).  His Boston.com submission for March's contest is in the top 50.  Voting starts tomorrow so head over to the Boston.com RAW and start voting.  This link takes you to the main page.  Tomorrow I'll update this post with the actual voting link once it's been published.

UPDATE: You can vote here.

Photograph: Glass - Water - Hair

I took this picture at the Haverhill Social Club at a family get together. We'll be going back for another in a week and a half. I hope to get more pictures, have fun with the folks-in-law, and meet the GodSon's new main squeeze.

"Glass - Water - Hair"
by Bruce H.

P.S. The hair is Homer's.

Book: Ishmael Beah's "A Long Way Gone"

I'm not sure you've noticed, and I can't remember if I've mentioned it before, but I alternate between fiction and nonfiction.  (actually I have mentioned this before.)  It was time for non-fiction.  I chose Ishmael Beah's "A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier".

This is one of those life stories that too few read about, so many should read about, and way too many live.  "A Long Way Gone" is the memoir of a young man, actually only a boy of 12 years, that lost his family to the rebels of Sierra Leone and was 'recruited' into the army at the young age of 13.  Ismael Beah , now 28 years old, recounts his life with war and how he was rescued.

The story is a compelling one.  It is one I was interested in - a story that cannot be adequately told in a short 218 pages. The book predominantly talks of Baeh's separation from his family when the rebels attacked his village and his rescue years later by the United Nations and Non-Government Organizations .  You can tell that Beah has a good memory and attention to detail but you can also tell that his telling of his story is clouded by the emotions the memories invoke.  The part that I was most interested, his life as a child soldier, feels glossed over like he didn't really want to write about it and included a minimum to satisfy his publishers.  I was left wanting more.  I also understand his reluctance to document the atrocities he participated in.

Do these vague voids mean you shouldn't read this book?  Definitely not.  Lacking as it does, it still tells a compelling story of loss, despair, and rescue.  I recommend this book with reservations. 

Note: There is some dispute about the veracity of Baeh's telling of his life story.  True or not, experiences similar to what he writes about do occur and the power of this story should not be diminished.

Winter's Last Gasp

It's spring, right?  April showers, right?  This is what it looks like outside right now:

Winds are in the teens, gusting to the twenties, and the snow is 'falling' horizontally.  The wind slid our barbecue to the center of our deck.  The north side of everything is plastered with snow.  The dead tree in the picture lost it's south half - blown over by the wind sometime this morning.

The wonderful thing about Midwest weather is that all the snow we are getting today will be completely gone by tomorrow afternoon.  It's practically melting on contact with the ground.

I'm looking forward to the rain.  I like rain to a certain extent.  It can often ruin my plans but the sound of the falling rain can be so relaxing.  It also helps that the Boston.com photo contest theme for April is April Showers.  Hopefully I get a winning picture this month.

Photograph: Mission San Juan Capistrano - 009

"Mission San Juan Capistrano - 009" by Bruce H.

Photograph: Lonely Tree Blossom

"Lonely Tree Blossom"
by Bruce H.

The Cranes! ... The Cranes!

Some of the busiest bird migration flyways pass through west and central Nebraska. One of the more well known migrations is the Sandhill Cranes. Every year between mid-February and mid-April hundred of thousands of cranes stop along the Platte River on their migration north. This year the Wife and I decided to join them.

We headed west to the Kearney - Grand Island area. There are three main viewing places in the area: The Fort Kearney State Recreation Area (FKSRA), the Rowe Sanctuary, and the Crane Meadows Nature Center. Our hotel was nearer to Crane Meadows so we decided to save that viewing area for Sunday morning choosing to go the Kearney area first.

As we got closer to Grand Island you could see large groups of cranes foraging for food in the empty farm fields. The number of birds we saw along the way boded well for us seeing the cranes along the river.

As we approached Kearney we realized it would be a little too early to go to FKSRA so we decided to check out Kearney's Great Platte River Road Archway. The archway is a mildly cheesy, but otherwise informative, museum covering history of all the trails that headed west through Nebraska (The Lewis and Clark, Mormon Pioneer, Pony Express, Oregon, and California national historic trails, among others) including the more modern Lincoln Highway, America's first transcontinental highway and once described as America's Main Street. The archway is a two story building straddling Interstate 80. The structure is pretty impressive. Over 300 Feet Long and high enough to house a two story museum and still allow traffic to go under it.

The museum itself is rather typical. Lots of history told using cheap looking dioramas and recorded audio playing on you headphones. It wasn't bad but it was ... meh. One of the best parts was looking out the two windows at the top at the speeding traffic below. Radar guns displayed the traffic speed proving that a lot of people think the limit is only voluntary.

After we'd finished the museum, and bought a couple travel magnets, we headed out to FKSRA to check out the layout. FKSRA is a cluster of swimming and fishing ponds not too far from the Platte River. It was small and peaceful. We parked the car and walked the short one third mile to the converted 1893 railroad trestle that crossed the Platte. The river is very wide and very shallow and provides an ideal habitat for the Sandhill Crane. There were very few people there as the cranes don't come to roost by the river until sunset. There was a pretty stiff breeze blowing so we knew we would have to be dressed warm when we returned at sunset.

We drove back into Kearney and stopped and had an early steak dinner at Whiskey Creek. The food was good but the service was not tip-worthy.

We got back to the bridge around an hour before sunset. I took pictures of the river and the setting sun while we waited for the arrival of the cranes. I had my tripod with me but the wind was hard enough to cause it to vibrate which negated its usefulness.

The bridge was soon full of people with binoculars and cameras. The crane's calls announced their arrival. Waves of cranes flew overhead making a rather unique honking-quacking-squawking call. Unfortunately most of them just flew over. You see, the Wife and I had the misperception that you would experience that National Geographic moment surrounded my thousands of cranes, up close and personal. Talking with some of the watchers we learned that cranes are hunted in neighboring states (it's illegal in Nebraska) and they are rather skittish around people. Once the sun dipped under the horizon some of the cranes began settling down on the sand bars in the distance. I'm guessing at least a mile away. While I was a little disappointed by that, the shear quantity of cranes, and the awesome chatter they made, made up for the lack of close encounters.

A bit after 8:00 PM it was getting chilly so we headed back to the car. We headed out, turning around briefly to take a picture of the last bit of twilight reflecting off one of the ponds. One of the best pictures I've ever taken in my opinion.

Our hotel had a heated pool and hot tub and we were looking forward to thawing out but, when we checked in, the pool room was full of drunk parents ignoring their noisy, obnoxious gaggle of 8-10 year olds running rampant. We decided that a warm bed would have to suffice.

Sunday was an early morning. We drove to the Crane Meadow Nature Center and found people already lining up along a bridge. We walked out on the bridge and looked out over the dark river. There were large groups of cranes to the east and west of us but, like the previous night, they were far off. Through the binoculars you could see the cranes starting to stir. The sun peeked up over the horizon and the cacophony started. It took them a while to start taking flight, heading out to the fields to feed. We were up on the bridge for about three hours before the pain in our toes and fingers from the cold convinced us that we'd had enough.

Back at the hotel the hot tub and pool were empty so we got into our trunks and took a good long, delicious soak in the hot tub. If we'd not seen any birds at all, the hot tub would have been worth the trip all by itself.

The soak was followed by the quest for breakfast. We had a couple of spots on out list - small, quirky sounding places. The were both closed. We ended up at a less that interesting Perkin's which, never the less, served a pretty good breakfast.

On our way out of town we looked for a marker. It was supposed to mark where you could actually see surviving wagon wheel ruts (swales) from the original trail wagons. We did manage to find the marker (erected in 1922 I believe). The corner of the field that it marked was fenced off to protect the area. It wasn't that impressive (these things rarely are). The long grass obscured everything but you could see some depressions where a wagon may have gone a hundred years ago.

Our last stop before heading home was next to a field full of cranes. I took maybe ten steps away from the car toward them and they all took flight. I didn't manage to get very close at all or get a decent picture. They were way too skittish. We now know why people fork over $125 for a blind at the Rowe Sanctuary. A blind would be the only way you could get close. Maybe next time.

We had a busy few days. It was definitely not a restful weekend but we both had a good time and enjoyed our attempts at birding. While I didn't get very many good pictures of cranes, I got quite a few good sunset and sunrise pictures. These pictures can be found here.