It should have been just a couple of days of nature guiding, but because of the amount of things to see and the pleasantness of the participants it ended in a full week... full of wildlife, photos and high spirits. I'm talking of the visit paid me by the Marche section of AFNI (Italian Nature Photographers Association) here in Särna at the beginning of June. You can see some memories from the Family Album. Here it is now a selection of pictures they kindly shared with me to be in the Chronicles. Let's start with some landscapes... ...and let's finish with some animals.
At the end of September two Italian photographers came here for a vacation, and stayed one week at our hostel; guests for the first time, then, in the term's classical meaning. Nature and outdoor enthusiasts as they are, they got things going in the right way, exploring the territory without sparing any energy, following the hints by yours truly. This way they have been able to enjoy most of the beauty of these latitudes' autumn, albeit a weakening one. I am glad to give visibility to their passion and niceness devoting this post to a gallery made with a selection of the pictures they made here around: thereby, they are guests a second time. At the same time it's a way to show what results the commitment and a correct approach could produce – from a wildlife standpoint – even in such a short period of time, and not in the very best season, at least for the animals.
Ladies and Gentlemen I give you, in strict alphabetical order, the dynamic duo Perlino & Pons (Luca and Massimiliano respectively), whom I thank here for the helpfulness. By the way, the Chronicles are today passing the milestone of 400 pictures, since May 2007. And to be precise a marsh marigold, shot during a long session in a hide on the shore of Särna lake, when the light of the approaching sunset was combined with the rippling water: as a matter of fact the true subjects of the picture, with the plant that merely acts as filling and contrast element.
As every year in early April, the cranes arrived. Not alone, I have to say: whooper swans, goldeneyes, goosanders and Canada geese came with them to fill every early crack which makes a pond in that slab of ice which still is, and still be for a few more days, the lake. And in the gardens chaffinches, bramblings, redpolls and siskins in blasts, in battalions.
The cranes are special, though. Special because of the animals they are, and special because they are here, just out of my home; I can hear them singing from my garden, as they explode their blaring calls from a distant shore, and you’d never believe that such a powerful sound could come out from such slender and graceful necks. They land in small groups or pairs, and slowly graze on the exposed banks. Some will leave soon, bound for new waters northward; others will remain in the area, choosing a swamp around here to nest . You can see them along all the shores: here nearby a couple who start a nuptial dance for a little while; behind it another group in distance, in the sky a family is gliding towards a bank out of sight, and each time they cross a look, a trumpets concert starts, only to vanish with an echo. The following pictures are unpretentious: they are just photo memories of special travelling companions. The lake of Särna in a late February evening; the town remains discreetly sheltered along the opposite shore, already wrapped in the shadows. It’s been a warm February, the warmest in the five years of our life here: a worthy conclusion of a temperate winter following a very mild autumn. The beginning of March is the entrance into Gidádálvve (springwinter), one of the eight seasons of Sami people: daylight has increased almost by magic, both in duration and intensity; the sun shines high and the temperature range between day and night is important. To the point that solar energy succeeds in raising a thick evening fog on a lake still solidly frozen, which will remain so until the end of April. That very energy has fueled for hours that thermal on the hill over there, and it still has the strength to climb on its vertical, condensing into an atmosphere colder and colder as the sun goes down. The little cloud suddenly appears, catching fire with the last light. Few minutes, just enough to take a picture and contemplate the scene, before the shape of the mount Fulufjället to the west makes both dissolving in the twilight to come. |
All site contents are: © Vitantonio Dell'Orto, all rights reserved worldwide. The Chronicles of Särna, and other stories from the North.
I live in Sweden, in Särna (Dalarna). The Chronicles are a photo diary about the nature (but not just) here around and from all the Scandinavian areas where my photo job takes me.
My book: "My Sweden - Tales from an Italian photographer in the North" is available in the bookstores and by the publisher.
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