Wildlife

After saying yesterday that -9C was too cold for running, I went out for a run this morning when it was reported to be -11C. It was fine. The sun was shining, there was no wind. I got quite sweaty, not cold.

The only downer was that the sprinkle of new snow we had overnight made all the sidewalk and path surfaces a little slippery. I tried to run my old 5K route, tracing the forks of the Thames along the river paths, but only made it about 4K. It's tiring when every step you take you slip back a bit.

*

I went out again this afternoon for a walk, despite the sun having gone in. I thought I'd photograph more bridges and river scenes. And I did. I went the other way on the river path this time, towards Gibbons Park.

CP Rail bridge from Oxford St.

Winter contemplation on Gibbons Park footbridge

Under the Oxford St. bridge (mural by Tracy Root)

I ended up photographing more than just bridges, though. 

Between Blackfriars and Ann St., there's a little stream that comes out from underground and empties into the river. I'd noticed people the other day clustered at the bridge over the stream, staring down into the water. Today, there was nobody about, so I had a look. 

I don't know if it's because the water is warmer here where it's coming out from underground, or what the explanation is, but the shallows just before the stream joins the river were teeming with little fish. I suspect they're carp. They were packed tight, their backs in some cases out of the water it's so shallow here. 

Further out at the edge of the river, a bunch of Canada geese are camped out. I didn't think they'd have been interested in the fish, because I was pretty sure geese were herbivores. But in fact they do sometimes eat fish apparently. So maybe they're there for an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord. 

As I walked on, I met a guy just past Oxford St. coming the other way. He saw my camera and said, "There's a hawk with his kill back there," - motioning back the he'd come - "he's just down the hill on the right-hand side." I thanked him and continued on, thinking there was zero chance the bird would still be there and close enough to see well and photograph. But I was wrong.

He was only 15 or 20 feet off the path. He'd caught a squirrel and was making a meal of it. The pictures aren't great but they give some sense of his alertness and concentration. Was he daring to have his meal so close to the path because there've been so few people using it in these pandemic times? I'd guess, no. There appears to be lots of people still using the path, even in the cold weather.

*

Every picture tells a story  This is one of the first pictures I took in the digital era that I thought was half-decent - taken with a fixed-lens Nikon camera.

It was taken in May 2004 in Collioure in southwest France. Karen and I had been part of a large group of friends that rented a villa in a Provencal village not far from Avignon. We went to celebrate some big birthdays. After a week - or maybe it was two, I can't remember - the group broke up. Karen and I and our friends Brian and Andrea headed west and spent another week or so in Argelès-sur-Mer, while the rest headed to Paris for a few days of sightseeing and the flight home. 

On one of our outings from Argelès with Brian and Andrea, we ended up in this seaside village that had been an artists' colony in the pre-war period. Lots of famous French and expat painters had holed up here and painted masterpieces. The gypsy jazz band was busking for patrons of the dockside cafes and restaurants. They were good, and very photogenic. I particularly like the tousle-haired drummer (you can't see his snare drum) with his cigarette staring straight at the camera.