Friday evening October 17, 2014.


These days any direction is good enough to watch him. There is no more need to move around to find that optimum angle to capture the best photograph dependent on the Sun’s lighting.
The eye is an outstanding camera to observe and record and to inspire so almost any old lighting will do.
One shortcoming, and perhaps blessing of the camera is that it cannot observe. Sometimes I wish that I, like the camera, can just see and not observe, so I can, like so many, enjoy days of mindless wanderings in Central Park, free of the vexations which my observations often bring.
My camera was able to capture images within a 3.5 degree angle of view, but I was forever beleaguered by the other 356.5 degrees encompassing me which I forever struggled to not have taint the image I was trying to frame.


Thursday evening October 16, 2014.


I heard the ruckus the blue jays were making somewhere in the trees around but I can’t always be sure whether those crafty birds are alarmed in earnest or not. I mostly depend on luck every day to find him.
After I passed the upset birds I looked back in time to see him fly towards the Met.


There was a particular way the Sun bounced off his feathers last evening, a delightful way, as if it went through some extra trouble weaving through the branches and the leaves to fall upon his breast and rest happily after such a long journey.
He must have a special relationship with the Sun, there is no doubt about that. I get a really good feeling inside when I see how pure the light is when reflected off his body, and I get an even better feeling when I see for myself that two natural things like the Sun and Palemale can communicate so beautifully and stay above all the superficial creations we’ve created to disturb these beautiful friendships.
There appears to be a determination from every direction to distract us from observing sacred bonds like these and instead we are sidetracked by fickle things like concerts and fireworks and other foolhardy creations.
It’s as if there is a movement to block the natural and unadulterated events from our eyesight so that we can be shepparded into a mass of mindless beings.
But it’s there if you choose to take the time to observe and admire them—all through the day and night the Sun never falters to shine some light on the lives of those precious animals that remain undistracted and unimpressed by the destructive things we do to ourselves—just watch.


Wednesday evening October 8, 2014.


I arrived late, long after sunset, but could still make out Palemale nuzzled down on his favorite branch and blended into the darkened leaves up high on that beautiful London Plane near the Glade Arch in Central Park. Below him the dried leaves had settled on the patchy ground and on the cracked tiles of the bridge--as if the Wind too had retired for the evening. The patterns the leaves made may appear random and devoid of meaning to my ignorant mind but I believe that these patterns have meaning to people like Palemale.
Through the wire fence, which picked up from where the walls of the bridge had ended, I could make out a few human figures breaking the beams of path lights as they made their way mostly out of the park at Seventy-sixth Street. I stayed a while to enjoy the serenity of the almost vacated park and I must confess that there were times that I reached around me for a camera that was no longer there. Just then the Moon showed up behind someone’s terrace on Fifth Avenue and for yet another moment I forgot that I was unable to get a shot of that divine body in the sky of which I could never get enough photographs. But photographs or not, the Moon was there—beautifying the sky and preserving all life on Earth. The adorable leaves along with Palemale & Octavia were also there and I took mental pictures of them all.
I sat on the ground and leaned back on a flimsy fence not caring for the mud I got on my pants and I imagined all the creatures in the shrubs behind, and in the cozy branches above me, as they all shut their tiny eyes and drifted off to sleep without a care or bother that their possessions were secure or worry that tomorrow will be there when they awake. But should tomorrow present itself they will all awaken refreshed and prepared to dive right in and indulge in all sweet and even the bitter that the day will offer to them.
So when the Sun comes out, or even in the rain and snow, as those enchanting animals frolic through their day--cameras or not there will be pictures abound, and if not with a lens then with a pencil I will try to capture those moments to share with you.


















Octavia on Sunday.


























Octavia & Palemale going to sleep on Sunday evening.


Sunday October 5, 2014.


These were the last pictures I took on Sunday. Soon after all my equipment was stolen on the Upper Eastside. Every piece of gear was taken from the largest lens to the smallest action camera so it will take me some time for me to buy back my gear so I can continue shooting again.


L.