The idea of The Numbers Game is to enter a number into the search bar of your computer and then post a selection of the photos that turn up. This week’s number is 236. Captions are on the photos. You can see more responses here.
This is the resident cat at Mahukona Beach Park. The rock he’s standing beside has a natural bowl at the top and people fill it with water for the birds. I call the cat Killer because, when he sees a bird go for a drink, he races out, stations himself at the base of it, and then leaps up trying to snag a victim.
A couple of mornings ago, I saw him leap from this spot and miss his quarry, but sometimes he’s successful. Feathers in the bowl attest to that. The birds here are not native species, so he’s not contributing to their decline, though that’s not the case elsewhere on the island.
Late afternoon sun illuminates a bit of fallen palm frond. Posted for Bushboy’s Last on the Card. See more responses here.
Ti plants are usually grown for their large, colorful leaves, but they do produce small white and fragrant flowers. Posted for Terri’s Flower Hour. See more responses here.
The idea of The Numbers Game is to enter a number into the search bar of your computer and then post a selection of the photos that turn up. This week’s number is 235. Captions are on the photos. You can see more responses here.
One of the roosters that now live at Mahukona Beach Park. There never used to be any, but the numbers have been creeping up this past year and I think are in double figures now. It’s certainly louder down there than it was!
This week’s Sunday Stills challenge theme is ‘Love Your Pet.’ See more responses here. We don’t have pets currently, so here are some archive photos of Chairman Meow, our cat from our old home in Washington State.
He was a Ragdoll, a breed noted for its mellow temperament. Happily, he was not a hunter, though he would stare intently at birds, except for hummingbirds, which left him with a bewildered expression! He also shed boatloads of fine, soft hair. A thorough combing would produce a wad of hair, but when he walked away, more would fly off him.
In the mornings, he’d climb up on the bed and sit on us until he was let out. One house had a screen door and it was common to hear a thud against it in the morning, a sign he wanted to come in again. When I opened the door, looking down for him, he was nowhere to be seen. But when I looked up there he was, hanging halfway up, his claws gripping the screen. The old lady who lived across the street said it gave her a great deal of amusement to witness this daily ritual!
We were going to bring him with us to Hawaii, but he used to end up frothing at the mouth on the two mile car ride to the vet! So he stayed behind in a good situation until he passed away a few years back.
The flowers of a Cockspur Coral Tree always catch the eye. Posted for Terri’s Flower Hour. See more responses here.
Graham's Island 