Monday, January 24, 2011 - Bosque Birdwatchers RV Park, San Antonio NM
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Mallards & Wigeons, Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, San Antonio NM, January 24, 2011
A day at the Refuge
On a whim I ended up spending the day down at the Bosque today.
That wasn't my intent when I crawled out of bed this morning but what the heck, I'm retired, I can play my whims as they come. My intent was to run up to Socorro to see if I could find a replacement for the balky DeLonghi radiant heater that started acting up a couple nights back ( just as a cold snap set in don't you know) but I have other sources of heat; that could wait.
So on this bright sunny dawn I headed down to the refuge to see if I could get some shots of Sandhill Cranes at the roost over by the Willow Deck, an observation deck on the Farm Loop drive that runs northbound up the east side of the Refuge. Being east of the birds puts the rising sun behind a photographer. Makes for good backlighting. Like I had at the roosting ponds along the highway for most of the morning crane shots I've posted.
That didn't work out so well, the Sandhill Cranes weren't well situated. Other than a few shots of cranes and Canada Geese walking on the thin ice that formed overnight I didn't get much worth keeping.
Ducks were hanging out at a pond farther up the loop and I got some nice shots with the light reflecting off iridescent green heads of the Mallards and American Wigeons. I ended up parking along the Loop for the day sorting pictures.
I waited for the afternoon light along the Marsh Trail way over at the far corner of the Refuge to see if I might get some shots of Great Blue Herons hanging out over there before I headed back to the RV park. They were there, but what I thought would give me good light didn't work out; my timing was off (I got over there about a half hour too late) and the viewpoints I thought I would have of the marsh from the trail along the west side don't exist.
Ah well, it was a nice day at the park.
Night camp
Site 10 - Bosque Bird Watcher's RV Park, San Antonio NM
- This is a basic, small Mom & Pop RV Park with full hookups.
- Verizon cell phone and Broadband service are available here with a strong signal.
- Locate Bosque Bird Watcher's RV Park on my Night Camps map
- Click for Google street view
- Check the weather in San Antonio NM
Interior of a Settled Korak Yurt
The interior of a Korak _yurt_--that is, of one of the wooden _yurts_ of the _settled_ Koraks--presents a strange and not very inviting appearance to one who has never become accustomed by long habit to its dirt, smoke, and frigid atmosphere. It receives its only light, and that of a cheerless, gloomy character, through the round hole, about twenty feet above the floor, which serves as window, door, and chimney, and which is reached by a round log with holes in it, that stands perpendicularly in the centre. The beams, rafters, and logs which compose the _yurt_ are all of a glossy blackness, from the smoke in which they are constantly enveloped. A wooden platform, raised about a foot from the earth, extends out from the walls on three sides to a width of six feet, leaving an open spot eight or ten feet in diameter in the centre for the fire and a huge copper kettle of melting snow. On the platform are pitched three or four square skin _pologs_, which serve as sleeping apartments for the inmates and as refuges from the smoke, which sometimes becomes almost unendurable. A little circle of flat stones on the ground, in the centre of the _yurt_, forms the fireplace, over which is usually simmering a kettle of fish or reindeer meat, which, with dried salmon, seal's blubber, and rancid oil, makes up the Korak bill of fare. Everything that you see or touch bears the distinguishing marks of Korak origin--grease and smoke. Whenever any one enters the _yurt_, you are apprised of the fact by a total eclipse of the chimney hole and a sudden darkness, and as you look up through a mist of reindeer hairs, scraped off from the coming man's fur coat, you see a thin pair of legs descending the pole in a cloud of smoke. The legs of your acquaintances you soon learn to recognise by some peculiarity of shape or covering; and their faces, considered as means of personal identification, assume a secondary importance. If you see Ivan's legs coming down the chimney, you feel a moral certainty that Ivan's head is somewhere above in the smoke; and Nicolai's boots, appearing in bold relief against the sky through the entrance hole, afford as satisfactory proof of Nicolai's identity as his head would, provided that part of his body came in first. Legs, therefore, are the most expressive features of a Korak's countenance, when considered from an interior standpoint. When snow drifts up against the _yurt_, so as to give the dogs access to the chimney, they take a perfect delight in lying around the hole, peering down into the _yurt_, and snuffing the odours of boiling fish which rise from the huge kettle underneath. Not unfrequently they get into a grand comprehensive free fight for the best place of observation; and just as you are about to take your dinner of boiled salmon off the fire, down comes a struggling, yelping dog into the kettle, while his triumphant antagonist looks down through the chimney hole with all the complacency of gratified vengeance upon his unfortunate victim. A Korak takes the half-scalded dog by the back of the neck, carries him up the chimney, pitches him over the edge of the _yurt_ into a snow-drift, and returns with unruffled serenity to eat the fish-soup which has thus been irregularly flavoured with dog and thickened with hairs. Hairs, and especially reindeer's hairs, are among the indispensable ingredients of everything cooked in a Korak _yurt_, and we soon came to regard them with perfect indifference. No matter what precautions we might take, they were sure to find their way into our tea and soup, and stick persistently to our fried meat. Some one was constantly going out or coming in over the fire, and the reindeerskin coats scraping back and forth through the chimney hole shed a perfect cloud of short grey hairs, which sifted down over and into everything of an eatable nature underneath. Our first meal in a Korak _yurt_, therefore, at Kamenoi, was not at all satisfactory.