Squawking in the purple moor grass on the far shore of the Colorado River and then the loud noises of wings beating the still morning air as a flock of Black Ibis rise and head south.
The flight of a single Double Creasted Comorand on his way to breakfast.
American Coot happy to stay put and search out his morning meal.
Desert Marigold
Going north on Highway 95, from Parker to south of Lake Havasu City, we cross the Bill Williams River, which was confusing. We thought we had crossed the Colorado at Parker Dam and figured that we should now be in California. Twernt-so. The not-so-small a river was only a contributor to the mighty Colorado River. Using our GPS navigational system is good if you just "listen" to the directions but when you try to figure out your exact location, the Garmin Unit often leaves one scratching their noggin. Using the sun for direction is the only sure way to know where North will be.
Sahara Mustard flower
We are off the road, on the east side of Hwy 95 with the Colorado River to our west about a mile up a heavily rutted trail on BLM land, a dozen miles south of Lake Havasu City. The area appears to be the shooting range for noisy 4 wheelers and gun enthusiasts from the city. They have willingly and knowingly sullied and stained the whole area with discarded shotgun casings, shooting gear, beer cans and shattered clay pigeons. The place stinks of bad energy, gloom and sadness and needs a small army of Feng Shui to move in for a clean-up and rearrangement. We’ll be out of here in a couple of hours.
I used to believe, or at least espouse, that a geographical location had no bearing or influence on one’s demeanor, attitude, peace, or state of mind. After being here since yesterday afternoon, I’m definitely taking another look and rethinking that stance.
The sun is even ashamed to shine here this morning.
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