A few nice animal jobs images I found:
Not So Scary
Image by jbdenham
Scarecrows have a simple job to do. They are there to keep animals from eating up all of the food in the garden. Even though this particular scarecrow probably does its job very well, it just doesn't seem so scary to me. Maybe it's the Hawaiian shirt, the lei around its neck, and the beach ball in its hand? Could be.
This is the Heritage House and Garden in Woodbury, MN. The Historical Society restored the building and meets here every so often. The garden is maintained by volunteers in the community. It's kind of neat how it sits in the middle of one of the faster growing towns in the state.
It's also kind of neat how the colors in the sky made for a nice background to the house and garden. Lots of colors in this image, even before the light of the sun illuminates them. The scarecrow is sporting many of them, but the flowers just beyond her are quite vibrant as well.
A 3 exposure (+/- 2 EV) HDR shot at f10, ISO100, and a 28mm focal length.
St Gerasim (or Gerasimos)
Image by jimforest
Among saints remembered for their peaceful relations with
dangerous animals not least is Gerasimos, shown in icons holding a
lion's paw in his hands. The story behind the image comes down to
us from John Moschos, a monk of Saint Theodosius Monastery near
Bethlehem and author of The Spiritual Meadow, a book written in
the course of journeys he made at the late sixth and early seventh
centuries. It's a collection of stories of monastic saints, mainly desert
dwellers, and also an early example of travel writing. Recently it
inspired William Dalrymple to write From the Holy Mountain, in
which the author sets out from Mount Athos to visit places -- in
Turkey, Syria, Lebanon, Israel, Palestine and Egypt -- that John
Moschos described in The Spiritual Meadow.
Gerasimos was abbot of a community of seventy monks in
the fifth century who lived in the desert east of Jericho, a mile from
the River Jordan. It was They slept on reed mats, had cells without
doors, and -- apart from common prayer -- normally observed silence.
Their diet consisted chiefly of water, dates and bread. Gerasimos, in
ongoing repentance for having accepted the teachings of a heretic in
his youth, is said to have eaten even less than the norm.
One day while walking along the Jordan -- so John Moschos
was told -- Gerasimos came upon a lion roaring in agony because of
a reed deeply imbedded in one paw. Overcome with compassion for
the suffering beast, Gerasimos gently removed the reed, drained and
cleaned the wound, then bound it up, expecting the lion would return
to its lair. Instead the creature meekly followed him back to the
monastery and became the abbot's devoted pet. The whole
community was amazed at the lion's conversion to a peaceful life --
he lived now on bread and vegetables -- and its devotion to the abbot.
It was given a special task: care of the community's donkey,
which pastured along the Jordan. But one day it happened, while the
lion napped, that the donkey strayed and was stolen by a passing
trader. After searching without success, the lion returned to the
monastery, its head hanging low as if it had sinned. The brothers
concluded the lion had been overcome by an appetite for meat. As
punishment, it was given the donkey's job: to carry water each day
from the river to the monastery in a saddlepack with four earthen
jars.
Months later, it happened that the same trader was coming
along the Jordan with the stolen donkey and three camels. The lion
recognized the donkey and roared so loudly at the trader that the
man ran away. Taking its rope in his jaws, the lion led the donkey
back to the monastery with the camels following behind. The monks
realized, to their shame, that they had misjudged the lion. That very
day the abbot gave the lion a name: Jordanes.
For five more years, until the abbot's death, Jordanes was
part of the monastic community. When the elder fell asleep in the
Lord and was buried, Jordanes lay down on the grave, roaring its
grief and beating its head against the ground. Finally Jordanes rolled
over and died on the last resting place of Gerasimos.
The narrative touches the reader intimately. The story
inspires the hope that the wild beast that still roars within us, putting
us at enmity with other creatures and at odds with heaven, may yet
be converted -- while the story's second half suggests that, when
falsely accused of having relapsed to an unconverted life,
vindication will finally happen.
The icon of Saint Gerasimos focuses on an event of physical
contact: the desert elder has the clawed-paw of the lion in his hand.
It is an Eden-like moment. On the edge of the Jordan, the river of
Christ's baptism, an ancient harmony we associate with Adam and
Eve before the Fall has been renewed. Enmity is over between man
and creation: at least it is over in the small island of peace that Christ
has brought into being through the merciful action of Gerasimos.
The icon is an image of peace: man and beast, monk and lion, no
longer threatening each other's life.
(text to be used in a future revised edition of "Prayinbg With Icons.")
