great gray owls

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Great Gray Owl (Strix nebulosaby Bill McMullen

Forest Spirit
Another shot of the great grey owl I found on a ridge above Fox Creek, Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest.
Nikon D7100, Manual Focus, Tamron 150-600mm VC, F/6, ISO-1250, ET-1/320, Focal Length 380mm, Hand Held Vibration Control on

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Four of “The Lives of Owls” colored coloring book pages are now available as prints and on other merch in my shop
https://society6.com/jadafitch/prints?show=new

Get the coloring book on Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1545427844/ref=cm_cr_ryp_prd_ttl_sol_0

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(via Serious Gaze | Great Gray Owl making some eye contact | Nicole Watson | Flickr)

Chubby, soft creatures bring me happiness.
And they’re the best to hug in the world, I’ll tell ya what.

Also “You’ll never beat our minigame, bud!”
is how I feel every time I visit their game. My reflexes are either slow or too fast in a moment and my fluctuating reaction times are cruel to me. I shall just continue to try. I have the will of the Great Gray Owl.
With my might and poofiness, I shall prevail. 

readerdye  asked:

lord of the rings with daemons, please? if you feel so inclined. if not, no worries -- great work with the daemons so far. ^.^

Boromir has an enormous heavy-headed wolfhound daemon, who lopes along beside his horse and has torn out more a few orc throats on the battlefield. Still, she misses the weight of Faramir’s osprey daemon perched on her back—it reminded them of how Finduilas’ tern would nestle beside Denethor’s griffon vulture each night.

Aragorn has a wolf daemon. (When Cithiel settled, all he could think about were the all stories of Carcharoth and Draugluin, of the winter-starved wolves in Arnor, and he didn’t—it had taken a while to get used to her.)  The sight of her had frightened the hobbits at first—dusty and mangy with travel, her eyes malevolent yellow in the light of the inn, she had looked no more trustworthy than Strider had. However, they both clean up well, and there is a kind of peace in watching the sleek dark wolf playfully wrestling with Arwen’s ocelot in the dappled light of Elrond’s courtyard.

Gimli has a bat daemon who generally sleeps in his beard, hanging from his braids or the special beads forged and wove into his hair for her. Though as of late, she’s been riding on Legolas’ lynx, whispering in the other daemon’s ears.

Frodo has a hedgehog, who curls up in his breast pocket, pretending not to feel the creeping cold of the Ring under his shirt. (By the time they reach Mount Doom, she’s so weak that Gollum’s shriveled cave salamander meets no resistance in choking her. She never fully regains consciousness, not until they cross into the undying lands.) Merry and Pippin have a fox and a raccoon, respectively, but they spent so much time together that most of the Shire isn’t entirely certain whose is which. Even Frodo gets confused more than once, when they begin their journey to Bree.

Sam has a pleasant-tempered coney who only sometimes has to be reminded not to eat the petunias.

Galadriel has a white stag, a twelve-pointer who wears a silver collar and walks silently at her side through the golden wood. (Hers is the beginning of all the myths, the white stag that Arthur chases and the celtic messenger of the otherworld.) Elrond’s daemon is a leopard, the hallmark of a brave and generous warrior, and the noble cats run through his line—Elladan has a bay cat and Elrohir golden cat, along with Arwen’s ocelot.

Eowyn rides into battle with her boar daemon at her side, its tusks capped in iron. (She knew she was meant to be a shieldmaiden since he settled, not as a lady’s daemon but as the symbol of bloodlusty glory. Grima, with his pale snake daemon, had always been uncomfortable around him, this irrefutable proof that she was not his pale and lovely flower, but a bristling wild thing that would not be caged.)

Forest Spirit
I was waiting for dad at the top of a ridge above Fox Creek when I heard a quiet, short screech in trees. It was persistent so I went looking for the source. I walked through the forest from tree to tree for cover. Sometimes I would have to wait for the screeching to start again, but finally I found the source. A great grey owl about 60 feet up a snag. For the next bit I spent with holding my camera at a very awkward angle over my head. It did a lot of head bobs, screech, and stared at me but it never left. In fact, it was still there after dad and I took off on the four wheelers back to the truck.
Nikon D7100, Manual Mode, Tamron 150-600mm VC, F/6, ISO-1250, ET 1/200, Focal Length 400mm, Hand Held Vibration Control on