After feeding the horses, I go farther into the pasture south of the arena to check on corn I have scattered on the ground for deer in the grove and dry creek bed.
Half of the corn I dispersed last night has been consumed and deer hooves have stabbed the ground in delight or hunger. Leaving the deer prints behind, I turn north on the pasture road and drive past the stock pond next to the Blue farm, the family east of us.
I frighten nine ducks that take to the air from the pond, shaming me that I had disturbed their morning feed. I open the door of the pickup and snap a shot of their flight upwards, then circling back to the pond. A momentary interruption at their table I was. Tomorrow I will walk to the deer-stabbing feed ground in the grove. Better for me. Better for the ducks.
11/18/2010. I am going to set up a duck blind. I have cedar posts and brush that will allow me to stand behind and photograph. I hope to identify the ducks that come to the pond by the end of the Winter season. That is my intention. Not a promise to anyone, but it is my intent.
11/15/2010. Two days ago as I drove to the Grove to photograph our solitary cottonwood, I scared at least fifteen ducks from the pond. I had forgotten about them in my mission to write about the cottonwood.
7/30/2010. A pair of heron fly often to the pond. They give one call when they leave the pond — just one call.
3/19/2010. Ducks were on the pond this morning. A blue heron flies to the pond late in the afternoon.