I revisited Reesor (lower) Pond this morning because I wanted to see if the Marsh wren that I heard during my last visit would this time be more likely inclined to make an appearance clear of the dense reeds. It didn't oblige. I could hear it well enough, sometimes even only a few meters away but always out-of-sight.
Instead I concentrated on a family of Pied-billed grebe that chose this end of the pond to explore. I wore hip waders because they are all the rage and they keep my feet dry, or so they are intended to do. Of course, if one wades in thigh deep water and then steps into a hole several feet deeper than that then the outcome is decidedly different. You see, with hip waders that are too big, like mine, for I refuse to believe that I am too short, then there is a compromised level of balance and poise. Actually, there is hardly any balance at all and levelness (levelty?) is just short of levity and therefore stability can only be aspired to. I fell backwards and floated like a raft with all that buoyant neoprene. It was kind of relaxing except for having to hold my camera aloft like a sail. The grebe stuck around because they thought I was hilarious. I
did manage a few shots with my sail. When I got home everything but the hip waders went into the dryer. The hip waders just get hung up to dry for a few days.
Pied-billed Grebe
( 420mm f 5.6 )
