A Mass Murder of Crows

If a regular flock of crows is called a Murder, then we have a flock living near our house, that one could only call a Mass Murder.  There has to be at least 300 crows in this flock.  You know when they are around because of the amazing amount of noise that they make.  And when they take to the sky, its like being in the Hitchcock movie The Birds. One day on my way home from school, I was driving up our street, and there they all were, sitting in an empty lot... and in the trees, and on the power lines, and the on the surrounding houses.  I grabbed my camera and walked down to grab a few shots.

These guys were not at all concerned with my presence.  They are one of my favourite birds to have at WildARC; they demonstrate their incredible intelligence constantly, and they're beautiful creatures.

At one point, a gentleman walked through the middle of the lot, and the crows all took flight.

This guy had a lot to say.

That's a lot of crow.

Goldstream Trestle Bridges

It's been three months since I last posted.  You know it's bad when you're Mum starts reminding you.  But alas, I have become backed up with editing, and therefore, backed up with posting.  So I'm starting from the present (ish) and working my way back.

Last weekend I went hiking with a couple of friends, out to see the Goldstream trestle bridges.  It was a soggy, foggy, rainy day, perfect for walking along slippery railway ties.  Unfortunately Charlie had to sit this one out, due to the dangers of crossing the bridges.  But to be honest, she probably would have hated the rain anyway.

So we set out on this hike, that felt like it went strait up for a very long time (but that might have had more to do with the previous nights festivities), before coming out of the woods to see the first trestle bridge disappearing into the fog.

We were secure in the knowledge that the trains no longer run along these tracks, which is more then I can say for the last time I was up here.  It was during one of my trips to see my friend Hawley, before I moved here, and a friend of ours was showing us around.  He brought us onto the bridge convinced that the trains were not using it anymore.  Once we were in the middle of the bridge we felt the tracks start to tremble and heard the rhythmic chug of something coming down the tracks.  We scrambled back across the bridge as fast as we could, and dove off the side of the tracks (some more successfully than others) in time to see a truck driving up the tracks.  It was a little anti-climactic, but terrifying none-the-less.  This summer the trains had for sure been shut down, as the tracks had been assessed and deemed too damaged to be worth fixing.  Comforting, and yet not...

Nevertheless, up we went.

I am not a huge fan of heights, so I stayed firmly rooted to the middle of the bridge, and avoided looking down as best I could.  Its hard to express just how high up these bridges are, and I couldn't even guess at the actual height.  But as you can see, we were well above the tree line in a pretty impressive rain forest.  I'm pretty sure I felt one or two of the ties move as I was walking across that bridge too.

As a photographer, one just can't resist the simplicity of those converging lines.

 We crossed the first bridge, thoroughly soaked by now, and walked another 15 minutes up the tracks to the second trestle bridge.

This platform had a pretty good lean on it, and the last couple boards, along with the railing, were definitely rotting.

I had fun that day, even if it was rainy, and its good to face your fears sometimes.