I've served up so many photos from our Thanksgiving playdate at Morning Bray Farm that you're probably stuffed by now,
but I hope you have room for some leftovers because I didn't want to toss these out.
Out of the hundreds of pictures I took, this is the only one in which everyone is accounted for.
There are more asses than faces, but you take what you can get when there are eight temperamental models involved.
Half the problem of taking pictures at Morning Bray Farm is that there are so many distractions.
Just when you've got a shot lined up in front of you, you hear the sound of wings,
lots of great big flapping wings. You can't help but look up.
It happens so often that I'm amazed a bird hasn't pooped on my lens.
Morning Bray Farm is in the migratory path of all manner of geese, cranes, herons and who knows what else.
The sheer number of birds flying overhead and coming in for a landing is something you have to experience to believe.
I'm so stinkin' lucky to get to visit and be a part of it.
George: That guy gives pretty good hugs. No wonder Bernard is so happy all the time.
Alan: Can we have some?
Bernard: Back off. He's my dad and I'm not sharing.
Bernard: Be sure to tell everyone I'm the cutest ass here.
***flap flap flap flap flap flap flap***
Me: What were you saying, Bernard? I got distracted again.