There are lots more here! http://sonelcorner.wordpress.com/2013/07/16/black-and-white-weekly-photo-challenge-family/
Ailsa at Wheres my backpack has chosen ‘Soft’ for her travel theme this week. This is a Victoria Crowned Pigeon and I took the photo at Kuala Lumpur bird park, the worlds largest free flight aviary. I’m sure its feathers and beautiful crest would feel very soft. They are ground dwellers, quite large and they originate from New Guinea. They are named after Queen Victoria.
I knew exactly what I would share with you when I saw the theme this morning. This solitary black swan has been around the river for a year or so, and Fifi as she is known, hit the local newspaper this week because she is lonely. There are lots of mute swans on the Exe and the canal, but of course black swans are native to Australia, not Britain. When I saw her last year, I assumed she had made her way up river from Dawlish, where there has been a colony for decades. Apparently not though, she is not ringed and it’s thought that she may have escaped from a private garden. She has been nest building but has no mate, the local birds have attacked her and she is probably feeling terribly rejected. The Dawlish swan herd says that she should be taken there, but that it would be costly to capture and move her and so far no one has offered to pay. I hope the newspaper article prompts a donation from a wealthy bird lover! Here she is. There are lots more interpretations of solitary over at The Daily Post
Madison’s challenge has this photo today http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/flash-fiction/pathways/ joining in is fun, lots of great flash fiction to read. Here is mine.
On the Nose
‘She has the scent already,’ the sow pulled Emil sharply right, nearly pulling him over.
‘Ouch, why can’t you stay on the path in the light?’Jean-Francois followed laughing, as the pig thrust her snout into the leaf mould, her tail corkscrewing frantically.
‘I can’t smell a thing, but I can see something black down there.’ The boys rummaged in beside her and didn’t hear the footsteps back on the path, but a resounding snort registered. They turned and faced the biggest wild boar ever.
‘It’s old Napoleon, he thinks these are his truffles . . . run for your life.’
Canopies of trees have burst their buds.
testing, is it time to blossom?
to herald the coming green?
listen . . . no barren avenues today
the air orchestrated with birdsong.
blackbirds call from the horse chestnut roof
wives chime replies from birch spires.
a lilting debate about whether it’s time.
whether it’s the weather yet
or the risk of a frozen February mist.
begin early, there may be three nest-full’s
hatching this year. three full nests?
that’s an awful lot of work
but a full of bounty of worm, who can resist?
My lovely friend Isadora, a talented poet http://insidethemindofisadora.wordpress.com/
suggested that I submit this poem here http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/