George

George watching for wildlife

Often when I go out exploring, I bring my "bird dog" or shall I say, "nature dog." He's technically not what one would think of when a bird dog image comes to mind. But he is one in his own way.

He has learned to move quietly, sit patiently and wait with me. From his perspective, I like to think he doesn't mind. His ears are up and alert, his eyes are watchful and kind.

George on the Prairie

We've both learned a few things, like a smooth collar without tags and a supple leather leash are the best options - no jarring jingling in the woods to give our presence away. The leash not only protects him, it also respects nature spaces, like the day we found a blue-winged teal duck's nest on the ground. We left it alone; we didn't linger so that the hen would come back. Leashes are not a bad thing for a dog or their human.

Blue-winged Teal Duck Eggs among the leaves. Copyright 2026 jean@jeanmaher.com

George may not always understand or may not know exactly why I'm crouched on the ground to capture a different angle of a mushroom or flower, or why we are standing motionless for a time. The odds have remained relatively high (20% of the time I'd estimate) that we can do this and not startle the creature we see or wait to see better - a swimming bird or one perched on a branch above, hoping to get a clearer view. Or maybe wait so I can study a bee, a butterfly, a dragonfly. He just remains still. He's not perfect: sometimes there is a whimper if he feels we've stopped moving for too long. Sometimes he sinks into a sit. He's game for what's next. Without expectations.

George watching a mallard duck family on the opposite shore.

He is more patient than me, seems to enjoy my company and is always ready to go to wherever the destination is. He sometimes finds his own things to explore - as a terrier, he might have seen a chipmunk or a mouse and put his nose down to check it out, pushing away the brush a little, or might have found an interesting smell or two that demands a closer look. We are tethered together, sometimes he leads the way, and sometimes me. I like to see if he can find the way back to where we started from.

I know that there are times I need to leave him home. I know there are times if I left him behind that I may see more wildlife, but as long has his big heart is good to go and his tail is wagging, he will be my nature loving bird dog.

Happy George (and yes, he is on a leash)

Blurred Vision

Eastern Bluebirds slightly out of focus in early spring.  ©2026 JeanMaher.com

I picked up my "older" camera to look at the photos that are on its SD card and familiarize myself with it once more. I didn't think at first that I would ever learn enough to use it, but I got braver and slowly gained experience. I was afraid to shoot in manual mode (self-inflicted reaction for sure). The lessons in fear proved to be a waste of time. I really just needed to start. Over years and thousands of photos later, I had enough print worthy images to write about in my book, "What Do You Spy with Your Eagle Eyes?"

Fast forward to now: I recently had the "not being present lesson" happen in spades. Because I was doing too many things at once, my newer camera is in need of inspection and likely repair. Moving too fast, not thinking or taking time to attach the camera to the tether on my harness (a fatal flaw), it came loose from the harness as I stepped out of the car, my hands full of other things. There was no parachute or safety net. Just a solid drop to the blacktop, led by the heavy lens attached to the camera body.

I was devastated that I could be so careless. It was an immediate and consequential lesson. A good friend told me, "The thing about mistakes and accidents -- we still do them; they just get more expensive the older we get." I'd add that the monetary cost was only a part of it, when I looked at the time I spent testing and dealing with uncertainty - was it me or was the camera producing less than tack-sharp images? Was it the lens? The camera body? All of it? I spent time ruling things out. And when did that clicking noise happen? The camera fooled me sometimes, but finer details were not quite right. With bird photos, the eye really needs to be crisply in focus. The bluebirds perched on stalks of last year's plants should have been tack-sharp but instead they have a blurred look that I didn't expect.

Eastern Bluebird on stalk in early spring. Slightly out of focus.  ©2026 jeanmaher.com

I was embarrassed. I took even more time, hesitating to own up to what I did, hoping it would all go away like a bad dream. But what is always necessary is to cut to the chase: truthfully explain what happened and get the repair going.

With my camera safely stowed in my car, I drove to West Photo in Minneapolis. The person at the camera store was kind, asking me how many cameras I've dropped, and smiled a bit. I responded with a firm (and dramatic) shake of my head, "Never; until now." He said, "It will be your last time. Don't be so hard on yourself; it happens to everyone once." There was that drama pattern of mine again. I was grateful for that comment. With a sense of relief, off my camera went to be repaired.

Instead of worrying further, I choose to believe my camera will return in "like new" condition. I'm grateful that I have this camera in the first place and to even have an "older"(and perfectly good) camera. It does just fine in many cases, thanks very much. On its SD card, I found a number of fine shots, like this pair of egrets captured when the light was just right.

Great White Egrets.  ©2026 JeanMaher.com

I'm also grateful that

• I have a camera that I'm still learning on and will use more.

• there are kind people in the world who don't judge others (me).

• I saw that I hesitated to take the camera in for repair instead of taking action sooner.

• I saw an old behavior pattern that I can stop so I can be more decisive and compassionate towards myself.

I know there are endless lessons as opportunities to help me grow. Something will appear for me to clear my blurred vision so I can pause, reflect, breathe and practice.

I can focus on that.

AI anyone?

Wild Turkey ©2026 JeanMaher.com

I was out on a prairie the other day, just seeing what was going on as spring unfolds. Not much action with wildlife as there is hardly any cover - the trees on the periphery hold promise and some songbirds (both residents and snowbird arrivals), but no creatures made themselves very visible. But you never know...

I kept walking and saw a muskrat in a small pothole pond, which surprised me. We are in a dry period, so water levels are down, but the muskrat was making the most of it, along with a couple of blue winged teal ducks.

Going on, I stepped around a few downed trees and in the distance, saw 5 deer running then soaring over an old barbed-wire fence. Heard a turkey calling, a pheasant, too. Canada geese passed overhead. I came over a rise, the sun in my eyes, the angle such that it was a little difficult to see.

There was a turkey just ahead of me, standing still and not moving! A perfect photo opportunity, if I could just get George the Airedale to back off and sit as I pulled my camera up to my eyes and knelt down quickly. Amazing. I'd never seen a turkey hold for so long - it was only a few seconds, but still, it gave me a space of time to get set. I focused and was just about to push the shutter button when...

A turkey hunter stood up.

The turkey was a decoy.

Fooled me! ©2026 JeanMaher.com

It wasn't April 1st today, but it felt like it! I got back on my feet, waved, smiled at the hunter, apologized and sheepishly turned tail and hoofed it back the way I had come. I kept laughing for quite a while. I certainly matched the stereotype of a wacky, nature-loving person. I'm sure this encounter will get mileage at the bar one day soon from the hunter. It's already getting mileage from me.

So, how does a person know what is real? My view was a little into the sun (my excuse and I'm sticking with it) but why didn't I think a little bit about what I was seeing? I swear it was real. I wished it to be real and made it so.

Made me think about AI.

AI on Facebook fools me sometimes. I still don't see the subtle clues that my daughters spot immediately. The "turkey" I saw was a solid, right-sized bird. Why didn't I check this out a little? Listen to myself more? Ask myself, if that bird was real; why didn't it run away?

There were clues... a real wild turkey is wary and would have been halfway over the hill and trotting away by the time I would have come that close. My non-bird dog (always leashed - another topic for later) would have given me a sign - pricked up ears, curious, and maybe pulling on the leash a little. Instead, he quite obediently sat when I backed up. Kind of bored even. A good dog. (but why not, the "turkey" wasn't as interesting as a ball, or food; I can't give George too much credit).

I'm not afraid of AI, in fact, I use it more often lately, to do a little research, or maybe to help with grammar, help with learning how to use a computer program, or get a hardware recommendation. I'm finding sometimes it's right, and sometimes to beware. Facebook can fool me. But I'm learning to ask better questions on CoPilot, to not totally trust what is said, and to use better judgement with what I'm being told via AI.

AI is not the be-all, end-all solution, but it can be helpful. I think the idea is to remember not to believe everything you read or see, Facebook or otherwise. Discerning (new buzzword).

AI is getting better, which means I need to get smarter about it and a little less trusting (not the old "it must be true, I read it on the internet.") and be discerning enough to trust myself more than I trust AI.

Anyway, the laugh is on me! The hunter and I met up afterwards in the parking lot, both of us smiling. He said he was just packing up when I showed up. I hope so.

I think I made his day.

Wild Turkey? Not sure, but my phone identified my bird as such, so it must be true. I read it on the Internet. ©2026 JeanMaher.com