Duck Slushee

Each morning for the past month or so I must break out a patch of the pond for the ducks after the overnight freeze. I usually remove the ice chunks with a leaf rake but this time they sped right into the ice bath hoping for the best . . .
A racoon got into the pen over the top a day after this was taken and ate little girl (top one) but sprig is still squalking. I immediately covered the pen with chicken wire and sprig is spending the nights under the duckhouse after being freaked by the coon whilst the two were in the duckhouse that night. I can think of no worst trauma than to have my buddy eaten within sound of my ears and hearing the crunching but I have to believe that ducks have short memories. There was a small pile of feathers and a webbed foot left after the incident.
Having gotten nine of ten ducks killed in the last two years, I wonder if I should continue with this endeavour. But sprig needs a few buddies and spring is almost here so I will get some more Rouen duck chicks for her. Death is , after all, just a heartbeat away for any of us and this serves to remind me of that.
I found a quote recently which makes me feel a bit better:

"If those who owe us nothing gave us nothing, how poor we would be." Antonio Porchia

Fractal Art

I really like the blue depths of this one. Of course the beauty can only come out in full resolution of the fractal since it is generated by the result of mathematical calculations for each pixel on the screen (a color assigned).









This was found at stacey's blog

Naming these can be a lot of fun- for me, at least-since each one seems to have a distinct effect on me, taken as an optical experience.

Demise

If you can keep the roof integral, these old barns can last forever-- barring other calamities.
This one is over 125 years old and will be gone, I estimate, within one year. The left shot shows how the side which remains covered by the roofing is still in good shape. But it is the east side which will pull the structure down as it deteriorates . This exists on the missouri river valley farmland (some of the richest in the country) available after the river was channelized and levies built to contain the once-meandering river. When these are gone, they are replaced by "engineered" buildings of not quite the same appeal.

A Small Life

Big Al is gone!

Way gone after a rainy dark night on the pond; leaving not a
feather, drop of blood, or final squalk, that I heard, to mark his demise.
Having broken through, for too short a time, the veil of consciousness to
present us with his beauty.
I am grateful for the knowing.