It was early morning, fog was still hanging low - I was underway early, since in photography, as in many other areas of life, one can with justification say: The early bird catches the worm.
Andy is still sawing logs inside our tent.
We plan an excursion into Hailstorm Creek Marsh today.
For as long as I can remember, these remains of what must have been a mighty tree,
stood, like a sentinel, at the entrance of the "Hailstorm Creek Marsh."
I suspect that if I went back today, it would likely still be there.
Even before Sunrise we had heard the drumming of a Spruce Grouse.
It sounds more like the puttering of a Harley Davidson.
That deep throated rumble made by nothing else.
We had heard it before and could identify it with some certainty as the drumming of a Grouse.
"Let's tie the Canoe here" Andy pointed at the remains of an ancient logging hut, "wade the few meters to shore and let's see if we can find this noisy bird".
We had just left the canoe when the drumming started all over again
Andy fell back and I crept, Indian Style, toward this mysterious sound..
Then I say it:
Sitting on a moss-bedecked log, the Grouse beat its chest with its wings so rapidly
that the first "slow drumming" changed into a rapid fire drum roll
A short pause, just enough time to allow the bird to catch his breath
and the drumming started all over again.
Despite the very poor light conditions under the dense tree
I cranked up the shutter speed and the ISO
and was able to partially "freeze" the rapid-fire wing movements.
I lay almost motionless not 3 meters from this bird.
When he finally spotted me, he trundled off without haste.
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