Home on the range

There is an area in my front yard I call the pond.  Lots of sage and lantana. An occasional bauhinia flower.

In the afternoon of late, I have been trying to land the "afternoon bite." Sit out there on my chair and wait for something to hit.

The critters have been elusive and my own performance has been frankly marginal.

Probably because I quit drinking. You have to drink to be a good fisherman.

The failsafe fallback is to blame my equipment.

But that is hard to do when you get an occasionally good or decent shot.

Equipment failure tends to be relatively consistent. So operator error is usually the actual culprit.

I will keep at it.

You know how I know that a hummer is near by? I listen for clicks. These little jeweled messengers of the Trochilidae species make the strangest noises.

Herding cats is nothing. Trying to take a photograph of a creature that can fly around you three times before you can even blink, now that's something.