Every November, sometime, they just appear out of nowhere.
Some of them go to le Bois de Boulogne.
Some of them sit in the sweet gum trees on the river by Pont du Carousel.
Some like to sit on the pilings of the Cop Dock Moorage by Pont Austerlitz.
They are the cormorants.
I’ve always liked cormorants, so, by extension, I like taking their pictures.
Since the distance from me to them is the least at the Cop Dock, that is where I take most pictures of them.
A couple of days ago I got a bonus for doing that.
As I was standing looking at several of the cormorant images I had just taken, I heard the squawk of a parrot.
One had just come out of le Jardin des Plantes and had lit on the trunk of a tree very close to me.
And it stayed there as I took shot after shot.
In fact when I decided I had taken as many images of that bird as posterity might ever want to examine, it was still there as I left.
I got fifty or sixty high quality, albeit highly redundant, images of the bird before I quit.
This morning I was reviewing and cropping the best of them with the idea of posting them to my blog.
Toward the end of the middle I encountered a series of eight images that tell a sort of story.