I had a choice this year. I could spend Thanksgiving with my camera at the soggy bog:

Or I could force my way into the ubiquitous family dinner, which would, of course, require an additional wardrobe purchase:

(Is this a trick question?)

The choice was a no-brainer.

Armed with my camera, lenses, and a lunch consisting of a Pink Lady apple, a piece of homemade cheesecake, and a bottle of Ice carbonated beverage, I headed towards the soggy bog.

And look what I found on the way! A couple of wary survivors of the Western New York Thanksgiving Massacre!

Upon arriving at the bog, I found that *someone* had already had their dinner. . .

. . .and by now they were probably lounging at home, watching the Eagles game (always a lot of complaining from the sidelines at those games):

This furry friend was still at the table. Forget the turkey, s/he was eating all the salad s/he could find:

Others were resting after a long search for their slippery, wiggly holiday dinner:

There were LOTS of gulls here today. Not much fishing, though, most were resting:

There were also lots of Canada geese — what would western NY be without flocks of Canada geese? (Answer: Cleaner and a lot quieter!)

Some of the residents were just hanging around, keeping an eye on things (there are actually two of these great blue herons who chose to remain here rather than migrate south. . .the heron equivalent of Iron Man. . .):

Today I decided to travel down the wooded dirt road leading to some nearby soybean fields. Glad I did, because look what I found!

A hungry downy woodpecker tapping the tree for insects (check out the nictitating membrane protecting his eye from airborne wood chips):

Observed the whole time by me, a myrtle warbler, and a gray squirrel:

The ducks, however, had had enough and decided to get a head start on the incoming snowstorm:

Photographers generally avoid “bird on a stick” photos, considering them dull and uninteresting. They would never win a prize at a contest.

But then they would have missed this shot of a beautiful American Kestrel, a small falcon (in fact, the smallest of the falcons) common to North America:

There is absolutely no hope for me. None of these photos would win a prize because none of them exhibit the technical quality and artistic talent required by a contest winner — well, the beavers had some talent, but they’re not photographers so they don’t count. In any event, the mundanity I managed to capture with my camera is more valuable to me than an honorable mention in some contest. It serves as a pleasant reminder of a Thanksgiving holiday spent in solitude and quiet reflection without the self-doubt, anxiety, and stress of spending it with a bunch of squabbling, hypercritical family members.

I hope their holiday went as well as mine.