A month spent in town meant no photos of big-and-hairies, but the promise of warm weather to come and the dry season palette provided ample photo opportunities. “Seeing” photos in one’s yard is a fun exercise, and one that keeps creative juices flowing.
In the dark, claustrophobic pause between sunset and moonrise, we listened as the bats – precision flyers extraordinaire – swooped in and out of the observation window, their just-audible chirrups announcing their (insect) genocidal intent with every visit. Outside the hide, movement at the pan had ceased, the last visitor a scrub hare that paused for a quick drink before bounding off into the bush.
Each month, I’ll be choosing three of my favourite photos as finalists for my “Pic(k) of the Month” series. The criteria are simple – the photos must have been taken (by me) within that calendar month and do not need to be flawless; rather, it’s a subjective selection of photos that tell a story, evoke an emotion, or showcase something interesting. Finalists are posted on my Ko-Fi page two days before the “reveal” right here on my blog site.
Two things struck me as we descended into the blackness of the underground hide that was to be our home for the next 24 hours. The first was the acrid odour of bat urine – despite the concrete floor having been carefully swept the previous day. The second was the wave of heat and dust being blown across the naked earth around the waterhole, straight through the narrow horizontal observation window.
