Sunday, June 14, 2009

12 June 2009

A food source is a great way to find what your looking for: wildlife that is. If you are aware of your surroundings, do some tracking and have known the place for years you might just figure this one out.
This morning I go to a part of the park that I have never attempted to film in before. Not because I didn't want to, but because I just have never tried. There are so many possibilities at Presque Isle, that I will probably never utilize them all. But a food source is a stroke of luck.
Once again, I lug my gear around in the dark, and climb up over a dune. I really don't know if this will work--the space is much more confined than any I've tried before and I worry that my lack of a large open space will prevent animals from coming in for free lunch. 
The tripod goes in place, and the chair placed next to it. I flip the blind open and tip it over the camera. Suddenly, there is a weight pushing towards me from inside the blind. The camera has started to fall over but the blind luckily breaks it's fall. Here I am again, making a ton of noise when I shouldn't be. I'm glad no one is around to see but the birds.
I unzip the door and climb inside the dark blind. I make better adjustments to the camera legs and try and situate my chair so that it is comfortable. No luck. I unzip the window and wait. Mosquitos are so high in numbers now that I can hear their buzzing. There must be millions, and I have the bites to prove it: twelve on just one knee. 
It's still far too dark to film, and that's of course when I see him. A coyote up on the trail above me, darting back and forth behind a fallen tree. I'm sure he's enjoying his egg breakfast.
I thought for certain I'd see raccoons and skunks and opossum enjoying the same meal, but maybe it's past their bedtime. Not a single one.
I'm disappointed that I couldn't get this one on film. And my frustration is echoed by another creature in the nearby pond: a beaver slaps his tail on the water. The sun slowly finds its way to the forest floor, and illuminates a buck munching his way towards me. He gets incredibly close before he looks right at me. He begins to make his way in a half-circle around me, but in a non-concerned way. He never stomps or snorts or flicks his flag of a tail. Maybe he enjoys the company because it's thirty minutes before he finally saunters off in the distance.

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