A Love of Red and White

I like seeing the Coast Guard ships that ply the waters here. The red and white make me feel very patriotic and I like the high contrast the colours have against the green wilderness around.

I never really thought much about the Coast Guard while I lived my life in the suburbia around Vancouver. What need did I have after all? I was a land lubber.

Now that I live next door to the ocean, travel over it from time to time and have friends and colleagues who regularly ply the ocean, the sight of the red and white clipping along the Pass speaks of safety and assurance to me.

This is the mid-coast ship, CCGS Gordon Reid

http://www.ccg-gcc.gc.ca/eng/Fleet/Vessels?id=996

And I Shall Name Him 'Spot'

I enjoy watching birds. I know many common species by sight, flight and sound. Perhaps that is why, when something out of the ordinary occurs, I notice immediately. I've seen birds with missing tails or one leg or one half of the beak missing.

I noticed this chap yesterday with an interesting piebald addition to his usual robin colouring. Happened to look out the window this morning and there he was again.


Took me a moment to notice him amongst the rocky ground so maybe this anomaly in colour is to his advantage.

Gettin' Frenchified

Walking the beaches around this island usually includes a whole lot of mussels (empty and full), barnacles of all sizes, limpets (also empty or glued to rocks) and empty clam shells. A few turban shell pieces lie here and there at the high tide mark. Occasionally you will find whelk shells the size of baby fingernails. Today was a rare treat since I found a much bigger version of a whelk in a flashy amber-caramel colour.

And you know what the first thought was in my mind--- IS IT EDIBLE?

Gah! How French is that?

Twilight Traveller

Herons are one of my favourite birds. I look forward to evening every day lately because a heron will slowly advance on wing towards his evening post in the trees or down to the beach for some twilight fishing. I think it's the same one every day since he seems to follow the same exact path. It's a ritual that makes me feel that, despite all the ills of the day, all of the world continues on unhindered.

This isn't him. This guy was trying to hide from Buster, my dog, when we were down by the ferry dock. Buster may not have seen him but I did. I was thrilled to get such a nice picture of him.

Buster Blogging: Swimming Phobia?

I just don't get it. Every time we take Buster to any form of water--ocean, river, lake-- we have to teach and/or persuade him to swim. Every. Time. He could go every day to the same spot for a week and finally start happily doggy-paddling around by the end of the play session. After a successful session, he'll come back the next day and act all freaked out, prompting another persuasion and teaching session. I sure wish I knew what was going on in his head.