A little history for the Pedersens:
Eigil Krogh Pedersen,
was a police officer at the Vesterbro police headquarters in Copenhagen during the German occupation of Denmark during WWII. He was arrested by German soldiers on the19th of September 1944 and taken to the Buchenwald concentration camp in Germany where he died December 8th 1944, he was 24 years old.
Eigil was born in Grinsted, Denmark to Martinus and Meta Pedersen (Vinther), he was the oldest of three younger brothers, Hans Ove, Borge Krogh, and Bent Vinther.
His father, Martinus, a local butcher, was an older brother to my grandfather Otto Frank Pedersen.
After a whole year of the Covid virus
Near the end of today’s walk, I heard some tweeting in some roadside bushes. I searched and discovered this sweet little bird on the other side, relaxed, singing and looking happy.
I often see fly catchers perched at the top of the dead standing trees along the creek near my back yard, seemingly relaxed, they will move their head up quick, stop, scan, rotate quick down, stop, scan, quick jerk left, stop, scan…, then, when an insect flies within kill range, they dart off at full speed with expert agility and snatch the bug from mid flight with a pair of tiny tweezers that’s attached at the front of their face, then return to their post. Repeat.
Old neighbor Dave sitting on his bench
One Lucky Mouse
Facebook recently reminded me of this “memory” from about 15 years ago. Back then, after it had been uploaded for a few days, I was sent a notice of copyright violation and it was re-rendered into a fuzzy low resolution thumbnail with awful audio. I had used a music score that was copyright protected. At the same time, I also uploaded it to “You Tube”, it was immediately struck for copyright violation. The soundtrack deleted.
A few days ago, I went to work and found all my original video “scenes” backed-up on an old hard drive. I also discovered a better song called “One”, courtesy of Kirk Lumpkin, from his album Moondog Session/ Kirk Lumpkin, David Andrews and friends.
A little more than 200 feet away, perched a on a dead Alder over the creek in our back yard was this young hawk. He is a frequent visitor, very camera shy, and is not at all comfortable being watched. He is usually gone before I get my tripod planted in the ground; but today, he let me squeeze-out four frames.