I meant to post this a few days ago but must have forgotten.
A few days ago Dad and I took a walk we haven't taken in a while. Usually once or twice a year we find ourselves yearning to shoot "the spot". We have been there enough times to take each step without thinking, and even though the hunt is normally a short one, we most often find ourselves walking away with a couple black birds of the salt. The morning drive went as planned, the dog as excited as ever, and right on schedule, we arrived and began our lengthy journey. When we started off, the wind was nipping at our cheeks as we trudged along for 45 minutes in a northerly direction. The skies were clear and meteors danced around them, so we kept pretty quiet except for an occasional comment about a particularly striking celestial occurrence, and the muffled sounds of Phoenix running and snorting up and down the shoreline. Soon enough, we arrived at our destination and set down our gear. We had a good half hour before shooting time, and the clouds were moving in and darkening the once starlit sky. But before they could completely take it over, I caught a shimmering on the ground just a few feet away from where we stood. I slowly moved over to give it a look.
Having spent 30 plus years of my life recreating in the salty bays, estuaries, and ocean where we call home, I have never found one of these salty treasures. How fitting that when I finally stumbled across one, it was at a location Dad and I hold with such reverence. We finished the day with a strap of birds as well, but to me, the seaducks were just icing on the cake.
A few days ago Dad and I took a walk we haven't taken in a while. Usually once or twice a year we find ourselves yearning to shoot "the spot". We have been there enough times to take each step without thinking, and even though the hunt is normally a short one, we most often find ourselves walking away with a couple black birds of the salt. The morning drive went as planned, the dog as excited as ever, and right on schedule, we arrived and began our lengthy journey. When we started off, the wind was nipping at our cheeks as we trudged along for 45 minutes in a northerly direction. The skies were clear and meteors danced around them, so we kept pretty quiet except for an occasional comment about a particularly striking celestial occurrence, and the muffled sounds of Phoenix running and snorting up and down the shoreline. Soon enough, we arrived at our destination and set down our gear. We had a good half hour before shooting time, and the clouds were moving in and darkening the once starlit sky. But before they could completely take it over, I caught a shimmering on the ground just a few feet away from where we stood. I slowly moved over to give it a look.
Having spent 30 plus years of my life recreating in the salty bays, estuaries, and ocean where we call home, I have never found one of these salty treasures. How fitting that when I finally stumbled across one, it was at a location Dad and I hold with such reverence. We finished the day with a strap of birds as well, but to me, the seaducks were just icing on the cake.
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