A comet, an inspiration and two fish

The green comet struck a chord with me, but then every comet that wanders near our solar system interests me, as do myriad other extra-terrestrial happenings.  Since the time in 1965 when my mouth hung open in awe at the sight of the phenomenal Ikeya-Seki comet, I have not wanted to miss one that came along in our neighborhood.  Comets aside, other starry sights fascinate, too.

The current visitor has an absurd difficult-to-remember moniker, leaving us Earthly beings to refer to him as the green comet.  His arrival coincided with our stay in Yuma's southern warmth, so we took advantage of dark skies out by Mittry Lake for our search.  

We had read about where in that vast sky to look for him, so with trusty binoculars (from Jay's Bird Barn, of course) in hand, we began scanning and continued scanning and scanning, but coming up with nary a comet to be seen.  As the thrill of the search began to wane, the arms grew weary and the evening breezes blew colder, we were about to pack it in when my pard spotted our elusive target.

Although we were satisfied with our success, I have to say the so-called green comet displayed nothing of that hue in my eyes, while his countenance was substantially less than impressive.  In fact, he could be described at best as an exceptionally faint fuzzy blob that could have been mistaken for a wisp of a distant cloud.

I don't blame the comet; he was showing off the best he could after a harrowing trip through the reaches of space, and I'm satisfied that we can say we saw him.  It would be unfortunate if he received no notice after that monumental swing around the sun.  Needless to say I was not able to photograph him, so I satisfied myself with a photo of the skyline shortly before dark.

Our drive along the shores of Mittry Lake, both to be in place for dark sky viewing and the following day intended more for bird viewing, netted us some avian life to be added to the trip list.  I find it fascinating that panning across a waterway can reveal certain birds, and panning the same waterway again, suddenly there are others that were not in sight at first.

At Mittry Lake, we added to the birds we had identified on the road: turkey vulture, white-crowned sparrow, great-tailed grackle, northern harrier and common raven, to include great blue heron, American coot, violet-green swallow, red-winged blackbird, western grebe, ring-necked duck, ruddy duck, pied-billed grebe, belted kingfisher, northern shoveler, black phoebe, neotropic cormorant, and a lovely snowy egret that casually walked across the dike in front of us before finding an appropriate perch on a snag above the water.

Of course the vegetation in the southern Arizona region differs drastically from our more northerly climes, always a delight in the variety.  I enjoyed the landscape views, as well as some of the humanity also out for the joy of it, even an unusual kayaker.  For some reason, she couldn't seem to remain upright in her boat seat, so spent more of her time slipped down so far that she had to hold the paddles above her supine body, unable to see where she was heading.  I declined to photograph the humorous sight to protect the innocent.

 

This was a fascinating reflection shot.

Fishing, not catching . . .

At Martinez Lake in the Imperial Wildlife Refuge, fishermen were having no success whatsoever, even those in some very pricey fancy watercraft.  Disappointed though they all may have been, we were the stars of the day with our casual bait fishing from shore that netted us a good-sized bass, a one pounder, and a nice bluegill.

The prize of the day, though, was the positively sublime weather.  As we whiled away the time out there, we might have moved on, but the inertia of basking in the sunshine watching birds made a departure seem like far too much effort.  It could not have been more perfect.

Birds we identified thereabout included Anna's hummingbird, phainopepla, eared grebe, American robin, ring-billed gull, double-crested cormorant, white pelican, great egret, roadrunner, and an osprey perching on a dead tree branch sticking up far above the water except when it was showing off its better-than-human fishing abilities.

An inspiration . . .

An encounter of the non-feathered variety offered me an enhanced view from my perspective at this stage of life.  We chatted with a couple who put into the lake near us with their kayaks, primarily because they were using inflatables and I've been thinking about switching from our hard-shell boats to the lighter variety - easier to load and travel with and to store, at least that's my take on the matter.

They were Canadians - who isn't in these parts during the winter - and quite pleasant to converse with.  They were forthcoming regarding the pros & cons of hard-shell versus inflatable kayaks.  They own both, but opted to bring the lighter version rather than try to load the others on top of their vehicle during an all-out blizzard with sub-zero temperatures at their departure.

All well and good, but the inspirational part was when the gentleman informed us that he is 87 years of age, has had both knees replaced, and is still getting into and out of kayaks (a tricky maneuver for anyone) in order to spend hours paddling around the lake.  I quickly determined to cease referring to myself as "old", an appellation that denotes a limiting attitude.