Solo

It's hot humid and overcast and the ducks continue to dabble in the dwindling river. I saw the family of nine this morning. The ducklings followed their inquisitive little beaks through the growing shallows below the dam while the mother kept a watchful eye on me. I was sketching this gentleman skimming at the top of the dam and missed a chance to try to draw the frantic antics of the kids. Eventually the young ducks passed by me and into the pool below the island. Soon they joined the ranks of silhouetted mallards feeding beyond the bridge where the river flattens out even more. Are they now fully attuned to the bigger currents? Will I see them again?

They have grown to resemble the other broods and may be indistinguishable.

And when will the river fill up again?

Hurricane season is approaching…

Dabbling!

It's August and new shallows and riffles have opened up downstream from the island. It seems like perfect habitat for the dabbling mallards. Here is what mallards do: preen, fight, dabble, sleep, work on their tans, and dabble some more. Some are very leisurely at their dabbling. Others are quite vigorous; it's like they're digging pernicious weeds out of hard ground.

Here's an old drawing showing geese on top of the dam.

It's a short drop.

Because the water level has been steadily dropping, riffles and chutes are opening up all over the place. The ducks and young ducklings line themselves up, several abreast, bills into the current. They then move like farmers' combines across the breadth of the small currents and dabble furiously at any bit of passing tasty things.
In this sketch I tried to capture the agitation of the water's surface and the position of the ducks.

One of the more interesting dabbling spots is up on the top of the dam. I wish I had a sketch for you; maybe I'll do one tomorrow. What's funny about it is that with the lazy flow of water, the ducks get quite bold (or careless) in their walking down the concrete face of the dam. All the while their bills are sifting the flowing water for something of nutritional value. Once in a while, they go too far and fall down. Sometimes they scramble (flapping as gracefully as they can) back to the top but other times they just wind up getting boiled in the white water at the foot of the dam. Then they waddle out of the spin cycle and start to preen again.

I think it's funny. We've always wondered what happens because geese and ducks are up there all the time.
The birds could probably care less!

Ten ducklings today!

colored pencil & watercolor

Well, they're hardly ducklings anymore! No parent in sight and they were all huddled together on these submerged granite blocks. I think this is the remains of the brood of twelve that I saw a few weeks ago. Two have left or gone to duck heaven.  After drawing this group for about 30 minutes, they hopped up one by one, and plopped into the water to dabble in front of the arches of the Pleasant Street Bridge. As I left they were below and into the flat, sparkling riffles below.

On another, mostly-unrelated note, I've been drawing (doodling) whimsical cars. Just for fun. I like taking a basic concept and running it through the art machine and seeing all the variations that I'm able to create until I just run out of gas. I like the thrill of discovery. Some of you may find it tedious and surely, we don't all need to know what goes into the sausage! So, proceed at your own risk and go here to see the big collection: "Les dessins d'automobiles".

And so on and so forth!

Bonne journée!

Observations

There is still one family of ducks that has stayed near the island below the dam. I guess it's reasonable to assume that the small island offers enough protection from predators (Which: turtles? large fish?). The proof is in the pudding: this mother and her brood of nine ducklings continue to explore and dabble in the pools and riffles of the river. A few weeks ago I studied a family with a dozen young but I haven't seen them since they went downstream below the arched bridge.

This group surprised me actually. I had become engrossed in drawing a heron and was alone with my thoughts when the duck family splashed into view. If you just sit still for a while and mind your business, you never know what you might be privileged to see.

The heron was graceful and comical. Without any regard for me, it gingerly stalked from rock to rock, at times carefully feeling the bottom of the riverbed. It positioned itself before a little "chute" of moving water and was soon eying the flow for fishy morsels. In quick succession, two small fish were caught and swallowed whole. These, of course quickly followed by a drink of water to wash it down (I wonder how long the fish live as they slide down that long heron throat… at times like this I'm glad I'm not a fish!). Eventually, he caught a larger fish and I observed the eating process again. I'll spare you the details but it does seem more difficult than actually catching the fish!

Here's a larger view of my heron sketch.

Low water

It's late-July and the water is very low in the Charles River. Here's a drawing in purple colored pencil that I made late last week. Near the rocks in the upper right at the face of the dam is a family of ducks: a mother and nine ducklings.

I sketched these very rapidly with ball point pen. The ducklings are in constant movement dabbling in the gentle swirling water. The mother is vigilant but relaxed.

We had a bit of rain yesterday but it has been rather dry this summer so it should be safe to raise a family of ducks at this small dam. There has been another duck family settling in; they have a dozen babies!

That's all for now

Rhode Island ducks

sketches of boats (and more) at Beavertail State Park overlooking Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island

Last weekend, my wife and I visited a couple of Connecticut galleries that are showing my work. On the way home, we detoured through Rhode Island and enjoyed a hot breezy afternoon overlooking Narragansett Bay. We could see Newport in the distance and by sunset, we were wandering along the famous Cliff Walk, ogling the mansions and imagining the gilded age they symbolize. Most seemed deserted for the weekend although there was a softball game happening at one of the estates that was in our price range. Perhaps the other owners were looking for cooler weather like us. Ironically, next to one of the larger mansions was smaller house in some disrepair. The grass was un-mowed and various objects were casually strewn about the back yard. Several people relaxed in lawn chairs and drank beer while the bbq grill emitted lazy tendrils of charcoal smoke. A man relieved himself in the bushes; the party must have been going on for a while.

The spelling is incorrrect: It should be "Narragansett"

I love drawing animals but always feel inept. I think I made a reasonable sketch of this fellow. His eyes were better than mine and soon, he'd plucked a crab from the waves and seaweed. The crab wasn't too happy about it and made several successful escapes. The gull kept at it and soon landed him. How'd you like to eat things that were in the habit of pinching your face?!

Speaking of birds and water, I can't end this post without following up on the ducklings I drew a few weeks ago near my house.

July 4, 2010

July 17, 2010

All twelve are still safe and growing. I resisted giving them names but I was reminded of one of my favorite children's books.

Have a wonderful summer.

Fish for dinner

My wife and I witnessed this Great Blue Heron catching and attempting to eat a large fish the other evening after a strenuous canoe trip on the Charles River.
The heron eventually succeeded after several unsuccessful attempts. The fish was larger than the heron's head and consuming it seemed to be a very specialized art that required precise placement, a little body english and a careful use of gravity to get the dinner to slide (awkwardly) down the hatch. I wonder what a good wine would be to serve with that?
Bon appetit Monsieur Heron!

The view downstream

I'm always here at the park by the dam early in the day. And this day the sun was glaring off the water as it flowed among the rocks in the now-shallow river. What's happening? Just a few months ago the water was as high as the arches of the old bridge!

July 2, 2010: Canada geese (colored pencil)

I don't think that the geese mind the low water flow of summer. It makes it easier for them to stand on top of the dam and tend to their plumage that always seems to need a little fixing.

Every once in a while, you see some careless goose or duck absent-mindedly get too close to the edge and they suddenly have to scramble back up or get airborne as the water sweeps them over the edge. We use to feed them and purposefully try to lure them to the edge: just to see what would happen. There were usually hungry ducks stationed downstream who benefited from our silly experiments.

It's early July. It's the middle of summer. The sun has stood still and now the days start their march back to the winter solstice; the days are getting shorter and canicules will come and go and eventually, the truly sweet days of summer will be here. Those late August days with low sun and cool nights. Can the bittersweet glories of September and la rentrée be far off? Get your seatbelts ready but don't latch them yet! The living is easy and life seems forgiving and green.

Geese

Not much more to say except that geese are beautiful.

Art Criticism

Another view of the dam this morning. I sat right up close so the rushing water drowned out any other sounds. After a while, this flotilla of geese camped out on the top and had a busy little salon al fresco.

I drew this in green Prismacolor in my sketchbook. The paper is soft and shows the impressed lines from the previous pages:

So, I offer you this: a useless job of figuring out the connection between my doodles and an observation of the water and the geese. Art critics and historians do this all the time and assume they've had the final word. It's infuriating. If there is a connection, it should be obvious. If it's not obvious, then it's obvious that someone is riding on the back of the person who took the initial risk of actually making the art.
Ooooh! Ouch! Take that you art-challenged critics/historians/reviewers! Put down your pens and pick up a paintbrush!

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Getting Focused

There's a theme here, no?

Yes, here we are back at the dam on the Charles River a few minutes walk from my home. Two months ago, it was a raging torrent and me and my dear sketchbook would have been rudely swept out to Boston Harbor and the icy gray Atlantic Ocean beyond. But this day the water was well-behaved and it sparkled in the early morning sun.

Fisherman wade up and down here and catch things. Fathers and sons practice the ancient art. I used to fish with my daughter here and other nearby places. She was quite eager and ardent about it. Of course, I had the unenviable job of "preparing" the worms, impaling them on the hook and, if we got lucky, removing the hapless fish from the hook and tossing it back in (where it often jumped back on the hook!).

What I fish for is less problematic and messy:

Here are a few other pages from this sketchbook:

The thing with the bottle caps is my mbira. It was made by Newton Gwara in Zimbabwe and was given to me by my friend Solomon Murungu who is a very good mbira player. It makes beautiful music that seems to go with the rushing rippling river. Maybe I have an example somewhere for you: "Walk On By" [mp3 file]. This is my own lame little song; listen to Solomon's cd if you desire the real thing (and you should!)

I blogged about this heron previously. I like his style of fishing: slow and graceful, highly evolved and a bit comical. I've never  seen an overweight heron; have you? I guess they eat pretty well.

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