Long Beach, New York’s shore is alive with bliss, even more so for me these days.

As autumn wanes toward winter, I see more clearly in my late solar laps. My focus is sharper, my sensitivity, more receptive.

October into November, with weather more like April into May, is just balmy in both meanings of the word.

Some think it’s a harbinger of bad days ahead from climate change. In the meantime, it’s warm and pleasant on the boards and beaches of Long Beach, NY, and I’m loving it.

The Earth offers me its best, or maybe I receive it—or feel it better.

I was at the shore of heaven one recent day; the breeze and my spirits were both light. 

The shore is always alive.

A feathered flight juxtaposed natural beauty against steel hulks hauling our Amazon purchases.

It makes one wonder, what really should be Prime in my life? More stuff, or more mindful immersing in nature?

Studies have repeatedly shown that immersing in nature is physically and mentally beneficial—and it is fun.

“These studies have shown that time in nature — as long as people feel safe — is an antidote for stress: It can lower blood pressure and stress hormone levels, reduce nervous system arousal, enhance immune system function, increase self-esteem, reduce anxiety, and improve mood.”

Do ya think we need some of that these days?

I trekked our marvelous Long Beach shore.

An oystercatcher always catches my eye.

But the murmuration of sanderlings stop me with their rush hour swoops.

They almost hauled my new friend Leslie along for the ride:

A windy day brought waves of kinetic drama:

Some surfers took time off so as not to miss this bliss.

Another day brought this prize before my eyes:

I find it so hard yet so much fun to capture the whales, these most majestic beasts. If you’re not quick, they are up and gone. But this day, I was lucky.

The whales are far offshore, where the baitfish are, but I do what I can with the conditions I have.

Sometimes, the thrusting whales are just a blur of action, bait fish flying amidst their maw:

Other times it was just majesty rising:

Then, sometimes, on a better day, a better view.

After the whales get a mouthful of the bunker…

…down they go again.

Sometimes, there’s added drama…

when they get a bit too close:

Does she dare?

Yes, she does.

Lately, there’s been a greater confluence between whales and fishermen.

Sometimes, there’s just not enough room to play safely off our Long Beach shore.

October and November are prime whale spotting months as the behemoths migrate from the Western North Atlantic to the Caribbean.

Once again a young lady, this time named Ruth, who captured my watch-on-whales:

On another day, Kristen Carter captured me:

Kristen impressed me when she said, ” I have to put my camera down now and just enjoy them.” I could never do that, there’s room for growth with me. But I called over to her, “That’s fantastic; that way, you take them home in your heart.”

One day, at New York Ave Beach, much more was in store for me.

I set up near the jetty when a lovely shore trekker passed me going west.

Scanning for whales or dolphins, I found only rescue machines in the sea.

…in their constant all-year training:

But off to my right, I saw my new friend Rosario holding his camera up on that west beach. I looked out to sea in front ot him but saw no whales, not even dolphins.

What does he see?

Soon, the lady trekker was at his side; both were now facing seaward—not moving.

What did they see?

As she approached me, going east this time, I asked her, “What on earth were you guys seeing out there?” She said, “It’s not out there. It’s at the shore, a swan!.” A swan? I never saw it; in the distance, the white swan had blended perfectly with the white surf.

I’ve lived in Long Beach for twenty years and never saw a swan at our shore. I had heard of them on the canal side of Long Beach. I even heard a rumor that one was spotted on our South Shore some time ago. I hadn’t heard of one recently. but I had hoped to come upon one someday.

Off I moved to the incredible sight. Rosario was smiling as he approached me. “Lee, it’s a swan!” he beamed.

And— thar he stood—Moby Swan. I thought, “I got ye now, ye damned cob!”

This is a Mute Swan, an Audubon official informed me.

It’s also male, called a cob, and is identified by the prominent knob at the base of its beak, called a blackberry. It enlarges during mating season. Female swans are pens, and babies are cygnets or swanlings. I found more information on swans on this site.

I had a 400 mm lens, so I had no need to get near the swan. My distance put him at ease, and his stillness gave me many camera settings for soft wave shots.

Fate indulged me further with the appearance of sanderlings.

I had, before me, on our Long Beach shore, the tiniest of birds and this massive and beautiful interloper.

At one point, the swan seemed particularly curious about the tiny arrivals:

At another he seemed to be just showing off:

Finally, he looked at this paparazzi with distinct disdain…

…and thus began his launch from the sands:

There he was, all for me to capture, webbed feet clopping, wings flopping…

…beating the air in primordial rhythms…

…until he achieved—liftoff:

Off he flew, jetty bound…

…where he slowed to a glide for this white-on-black shot—just for me.

As he soared, higher and higher…

…over the Long Beach boardwalk…

…he was grace on the wing.

And a happy Rosario flying off with him:

Thank you, Rosario,

Be well,

Leebythesea