Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E. Bourland Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Clay County Jail Now Museum

Constructed in 1890 in Henrietta and employed as jail until 1973, the building characteristically included adjacent living quarters for the officers and their families. Texas Historical Landmark. I took all the photos below with my iPhone. Handy to have a cellphone with a camera when both my cameras had no card in them.
This is the north entrance, Starling singing on corbelled brick at top.

The large stone has a hole within it that undoubtedly families of native Americans employed to mash maiz or contain water.
An inscription on the sidewalk leading up to the north entrance.
Visit their website at http://claycountyjailmuseum.org/

Monday, March 29, 2010

Horsing Around in Dalhart

This is the view outside the Dalhart cafe. The curtains have an aviation theme, most appropriately. I saw both aviators and locals enjoying the food at the Dalhart Cafe. Above I show the Wichita Valley airport with its choice of landing strips (north/south and east/west) depending on the crosswinds. The buildings shown above were built during WWII for training. Indeed, some remnants of barracks remain near the buildings. A cook is busy preparing late breakfasts for locals and aviators at the Dalhart Cafe. I'd love to write the captions directly under each photograph, but the technical details of blog-keeping are a bit beyond me for now. 

The Panhandle of Texas has miles and miles of fencing. 

Horses rest in the late morning. 

A horse approached me, curious about me. 

The chickens lost interest in me once they found out I have no food for them.

The foreman and his family live here, with his Border Collie. 

Underneath this large roof they store wheat year round. 

A Dodge Ram 2500 transports the round bales of wheat hay. 

From Dalhart we flew to Pampa. Here's a picture of an old barn I took for Ben and Larry. Narcissus bloom in all that oldness and trash. 

Perry LeFors Field in Pampa constantly has aircraft traffic. Some of the aircraft are old and interesting, such as the Citabria pictured above, and often I see modern aircraft, such as Citations. The wind is always strong in Pampa, so make sure you tie down your airplane.


Sunday, March 28, 2010

Prairie Dog Town

Texas Master Naturalists each signed an indemnity document before entering a private ranch.

Prairie Dog Town.

A Prairie Dog mound next to a Mesquite plant.

In addition to the dogs, we heard two Spotted Coarse toads, spotted several jackrabbits, ten or twelve Burrowing owls, four Lark Sparrows, several Mockingbirds, and two badger holes.

Here we are on the mound next to the pond.

Larry and Judy inspect oil field trash. 

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Hunkering in the Wind

Winds blew at thirty miles per hour, gusting at fifty or more. The winds, though, brought beautiful cloud formations, and they passed overhead as quickly as they appeared. It was a great opportunity for landscape photographers. I remained indoors hunkering against the wind.

An American Coot braved the choppy waters. 

 I could kick myself for forgetting to change the settings on my camera from f36 to f4 or so in order to capture the Yellow-rumped Warbler looking for worms and insects in this old Pecan tree. But after noting my mistake, I began to call this image an "artistic action shot" that shows some movement -- that makes it look interesting -- in the bird. I may have stumbled upon a new photographic genre: blurry photos that look artistic. Help me think of a good label for this. On another note, Yellow-rumped Warblers are also called Butter Butts. Last night I learned from Penny that she refers to them as such. 

Aviator Marion

I feel deeply honored to have shared brunch this morning with Marion Stegeman Hodgson, along with other 99s. 

Butterflying and Flambeeing Farabee

Friends roasted State Representative David Farabee on behalf of Wild Bird Rescue. I walked around with my new Nikon 9000 Coolpix taking pictures all evening. Here are some of the most pleasing to me. More later.
The Great Horned Owl is one of thousands of species of birds we attempt to save every year. This evening we held the fundraiser to aide us in aiding the birds. 

Raising funds is a part of saving wild birds. 

Sweetly, David Farabee agreed to be roasted in order to raise funds for Wild Bird Rescue. 

Dallas designed this poster with one of the photos I took of David and the Red-tailed Hawk he released after the posing session. It seemed a joy to photograph David, for he was calm as he held the impressive hawk.

Richard Zuber, super auctioneer, coaxed dollars from guests. 

Contributors paid for mealworms. Birds at the center may consume over ten thousand mealworms per year. 

Ellen's other sweet half donated this painting of an oriole. I adore it and wish I could have won the bid. 

We had a charming Master of Ceremonies.

And a charming guest of honor. Birds and we thank you all so much!

Then, I stepped out the doors and looked down the hallway. Mindboggling. I can't put my finger on it, but it certainly has to do with the colors and design of the carpet.

I donated four photographs, three of which sold: "Looking Good While Landing," donated in honor of my flight instructor and whose wife bid and won it; "Great Horned Owl," donated in honor of Missi's Mom whose friends' connivance helped her win the bid; and "Fuzzy Fledgling Owl" given in honor of BirdManBob, purchased by Penny. I felt delighted to learn who bought the work, for the purchasers are some of my favorite people. 
The battery of the Coolpix gave up after only an afternoon of picture-taking. Not good.
Such was my evening today. 

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Feed on the Ground

I volunteered four hours today at the Wild Bird Rescue center. After driving to Lavell Street to check on some ducks -- and they were just fine -- I spent most of my time looking out BirdManBob's office window. Hummer, Lilly, and Sunflower worked the afternoon shift with me. Their company made bird watching out the window much more enjoyable for me.

Large birds visited the area of the feeder. BirdManBob tosses a couple of cups of bird seed out on the grass for them.
English Sparrows have taken up residence in the box outside the front porch.

Mr. and Mrs. Mallard returned to the bird feed area.

Male and female Cardinals.

The more red color he displays, the higher up in the Redwing Blackbird hierarchy he stands in his flock.

I had great difficulty identifying these two visitors: Not Lark Sparrows, not Savannahs, not this, not that. Finally, Alicia helped us identify them as female Red-winged Blackbirds.

Brown-headed Blackbird.

Male Grackles. Grackles are intelligent and inquisitive.

Female Grackles.

Female White-crowned Sparrow.

White-crowned Sparrow, male, looking vulnerable in the strong, increasingly cold winds.

Female English Sparrow.

Four species of doves visited the feeding area at the Wild Bird Rescue Center: White-winged Dove, Ring-necked Turtle Dove, Mourning, and Eurasian Collared Dove (this one courting). 

But there was another visitor to the feeding area, and not of our feathered friends, but of the furry kind.

Alicia and Steve came in to visit with Lilly. 
And such were my four hours volunteering today at Wild Bird Rescue.

Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

Give Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.