Hundreds and hundreds of birds are beginning their migration South for the Winter. I’ve spotted gigantic flocks almost everyday for the past several weeks. Strange that many are to be found on the power lines right in front of my house. How can I resist? About two hundred birds gather during the late morning hours, just chillin’ by the waterside (temperature moderation?). Approaching too close is not recommended due to the sporadic and consistent expelling of bodily waste. Plop … plop … … … plop.

Onomatopoeia is fun, but seriously, ew.

Yestereve, the family and I journeyed Southeast with our hobbyist pilot in hopes of dining at the Crabby Cowboy in Montauk. After all, I have not yet dined there, but have heard many good things, so I was quite excited.

However, upon arrival it seemed the entire area surrounding the airport was closed for the season; the boats sat in what looks like a forsaken graveyard at dusk, the Crabby Cowboy was dark and desolate and I was left with my taste buds yearning. I managed to snap a few shots before the night was through. I was tripod-less, but pleased with what I made out.

I know I’ve said it before, but there really is nothing like having a hobbyist pilot in the family who is always up for a new adventure. I’m one grateful panda.