Welcome to my blog. This is my first attempt, so bear with me.

The story with which I will open is pretty humorous... I can laugh at myself now that it's almost over (I hope)!

A couple of weeks ago, I thought that it might be a good idea to trim the shrubs in my yard (around the pool, around the air-conditioning unit, arond the back porch, and in the front flowerbed). I noticed while I was hand-trimming one of my larger shrubs that there were birds constantly talking to me... and not using very nice languate. I really thought nothing of it until I happened to catch a glimpse of something grey and MOVING. To my suprise, there was a bird's nest with some of the cutest baby birds I had ever seen... and they were hungry! I got a couple of shots with my digital camera. Things went off withiout a hitch and I ended up posting the pictures on facebook.

So, there's the background info for you... the rest of the story is about to get intersting:

I decided that it would be really neat if I kept a photo journal of these birds and their progression toward adulthood. The first pictures that I took were of the babies (three of them) begging for Mom to bring them some food. Mouths wide open, eyes still closed. They were so ugly that they were cute! No excitement with that photo shoot. But excitement was just around the bend...

I was in the front yard one afternoon (with my torn left calf muscle heavily bandaged) and thought I would check in with my baby birds. I slowly pulled the branches back and peered into the shrub and there they were... looking so peaceful as they slept. I gently let the branches fall back into place and turned around just in time to see something brown directly in front of my face! You guessed it, I had made Mom mad. Needless to say, hopping away from the enraged bird via the front flowerbed was no easy feat!

Several days later, I decided to get the next batch of photos... these little guys grow so quickly! I hobbled outside and followed the same procedure of gently pulling back the branches and trying to focus my cell phone camera on the baby birds (who were probably considered juveniles by this time). I heard the thump of a helicopter and felt the impact of a small object on the back of my head. Guess who? Oh yeah... Mom is quite the brave bird. I gave up my photo expedition for the day and retreated to the safety of my house.

The very next day, I went outside with the intent of taking pictures of the birds and taking no prisoners... a woman's house is her castle, right? Again with the aerial assault! This time I was introduced to both Mom and Dad... at the SAME TIME. I attempted a few pictures... with blurred results, as I was bobbing, weaving, and ducking to avoid injury (I had terrible images of Alfred Hitchcock's movie THE BIRDS running through my head)!

That did it... I was bound and determined that I was going to snap some harmless pictures of these birds if it was the last thing I ever did! It was MY shrub in which these birds built a nest and it was located in MY front flowerbed... so there! I hoofed it (as funny as it probably looked with my torn calf muscle) back into my house, geared up in a hooded sweatshirt (it was 99 degrees outside with a heat index of 105) and a pair of shooting glasses (you know, the ones with amber lenses). With the neighbors watching, mouths hanging open, I cinched the hood tightly around my face, grabbed the digital camera, and made my way into the front yard. Did you know that Brown Thrashers use all sorts of profane language? I can testify to that! I was whistled at, squawked at, and generally told off by two birds. I had no fear... battle gear was on. I stealthily moved in to get some precious photos of the babies (now teenagers in bird years). I got... blurred shrubs! I was busy ducking and running. Unphased, I moved in again... this time, I actually got a photo... a decent one. I snapped again... all of this in the midst of all sorts of bird profanities being flung my way. I caught something out of the corner of my eye... Mom. Coming after me. Yep, she gave up on the aerial assault and decided a ground attack may be more fitting. No amount of stomping and shooing could deter her. She was on a mission. I took pictures of Mom, pictures of Dad, and got a few more shots of the kids before being bombed again... I think that these birds were trained by the makers of the atom bomb!

So... you think that's the end of the story, right? Wrong! I tried to take the trash out tonight. Who do you think was waiting on me to exit MY VERY OWN GARAGE? You got it... Mom and Dad. I have created monster birds. I know that it is my fault, but they just do not seem to understand that I am perfecting my photo-journalists skills. No matter how much I coo at them, cajole them, or use my teacher voice to speak to them... they continue to see me as the enemy. I'm doomed to several more days of assaults, I'm sure. The babies are almost large enough to fly (well, in my unprofessional opinion). I will, once again, risk life and limb to capture their not-so-smiling little faces. I'm hoping to capture that magic moment when they take flight for the very first time. As a friend of mine pointed out... "It's just one second in time and you may witness it... how cool is that?"