Lake Balboa Park in North Hollywood

While cooped up in the house for days due to the maddening rains, I promised myself I’d go to Lake Balboa Park once the sun came out. I developed a burning desire to take pictures of  the birds there, probably the result of watching too many nature shows. My mind was made up. I was going to be a wildlife photographer, just like in National Geographic. And why not? I have a fancy schmancy camera, the one my workaholic husband gave me last July, his “I’m sorry” gift of sorts for spending the entire day of our 11th wedding anniversary snoring away like a broken down truck engine.

January 24. The clouds had thinned somewhat. The sun, like a shy little kid, hesistantly stepped out of its hiding place. I slung my camera over one shoulder and nagged my three-year-old daughter  to quit lollygagging. She was taking her sweet time putting on her socks and shoes, refusing my offer to help.  I can’t understand why she has to insist on being independent  just when I’m in a hurry to go somewhere.

The photo above doesn’t qualitfy for a spot on National Geographic, but this is a moment I don’t wish to forget. My daughter talking to a tiny duck. Three pompous geese parading by the water’s edge, honking loudly for attention. A family of four seated on the grass, observing them with amusement. I was reminded of  Georges-Pierre Seurat’s painting, “Sunday Afternoon on the Island of Grand Jatte”. How I wish I could paint!

“Are those cormorants?”, I thought with excitement. I didn’t see a single one of those birds when I visited the park last October. I wonder if they’re just passing through. Those big black birds perched high among the trees looked like evil, ominous sentries. They’ve always fascinated me eversince I had seen the video below.

After being in the water, they like to spread out their wings for long stretches of time, as if trying to dry them up in the sun. Other water fowls don’t do this as often. They don’t seem to mind if their feathers are wet.

Cormorants are different. They’re so OC . So like my husband.

On and on I wandered, looking for interesting things to photograph. My daughter followed me around, furiously pedaling, huffing and puffing on her trike.

Finally she grew tired and reached into the basket behind her for a bag of cereal. Little did she know that she was being watched. The moment she snapped open that ziplock bag, the ducks, cautiously but persistently, waddled closer, expecting to be fed. My daughter panicked, got out of her trike, dragged it behind her, and screamed that she wanted to go home.

Don’t you just love the head of the mallard duck? Most of the time it’s just  plain black, but becomes a shimmery green when the sun shines directly on it.

Can you spot the bird? That’s a heron keeping a close watch for any fish that might swim downstream. I wish I could get a better picture. This shot was taken from above and doesn’t do justice to the bird’s beautiful form. A heron is an elegant and solitary creature. It likes to stand patiently in shallow water, far away from the noisy ducks and geese. It never moves a muscle and then suddenly…..BAM! Quick as lightning, it stretches its neck down into the water. When it straightens up, there’s a struggling fish in its beak. You can’t help but admire such a skill.

This yellowgreen bird is just a little bigger than a hummingbird. I followed it as it flitted about. Finally it settled on this tree. I stood ever so silently  and waited for it to straighten up so I can get a good shot. My daughter, not content with whining, suddenly shrieked behind me. The more I ignored her, the more hysterical she became.  See those long yellow things dangling from the branches?  The ground all around us was thickly carpetted by those yellow worm-like things. My daughter wanted me to carry her because she was scared of them. “They’re not worms, they’re parts of the tree”, I explained in frustration. “I scared the plants”, she insisted. So I clicked the camera and got this picture that I don’t really like.

We moved to a different area. I set her down. No more yellow worm-like thingies. I saw a spotted brown bird perched on this tree and tiptoed closer. My daughter, maybe wanting to be helpful, announced in a loud voice “Mom, I see a bird! There, mom. Look!”  That’s how I ended up with this picture of an escaping bird.

The sun was going down. We  left the park and dropped by my mother’s place. I was startled when I saw two piercing marble eyes staring at me from above this vine-covered fence. Crouched like a black panther, Bechang, my mom’s overweight cat, was stalking birds in the backyard. I suppose, in a way, this would pass for a wildlife photo. I snapped this picture and wagged my finger at her. “Come on, Bechang! Leave them alone. Don’t kill the cute little birds”, I lectured. My three-year-old assistant burst into tears and declared that she wanted to go home. “What’s wrong this time?”, I sighed. “I ‘fraid of cats”, she sobbed.

MY THOUGHTS

*Get longer and better lenses. Hopefully this July, when my husband snores away again on our 12th wedding anniversary. Or maybe I just need to study the manual of my camera.

*Three-year-olds don’t make good assistants.

*I bet National Geographic photographers don’t have the kind of issues I have to deal with.

*Maybe I should start with animals that don’t move around too much. I’m too ambitious.

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