Christmas Bird Count

Posted by dkrashb on December 26, 2012

One of my favorite winter birds–I love to hear their song when I walk the dogs.

This was a somewhat rare sighting at Audubon Acres–I have a much easier time shooting them at Renaissance.

Not 100% sure, but I think this was a yellow-rumped warbler flying away.

The only thing better than a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker is two of them.

I love these birds. Just a great name.

I’ve always wanted to participate in the Christmas Bird Count, but never really understood how it worked. Every year, the National Audubon Society sponsors a Christmas Bird Count. Each area organizes a specific day for participants to count birds.

The idea is to collect data on how many birds of each species seen are present in a given area at Christmas time. Counts are scheduled from early December through January–I don’t know of any that actually happened on Christmas Day. Ironically, the name of the event always prevented me from participating–I assumed the Christmas Bird Count happened on Christmas Day and I wouldn’t be able to join.

This year, because I’ve been volunteering for the Chattanooga Audubon Society, I learned that I didn’t have to count birds on Christmas Day to be part of the event. In Chattanooga, the count was scheduled on December 15th.

The most challenging part about the count (other than getting any decent photos) was trying not to double count birds. We walked around Audubon Acres for 3 hours before I had to leave. It was pretty tough to ensure the Eastern Towhee we heard on one part of the property wasn’t the same Eastern Towhee following us to another part of the property.

The guidelines are clear for counting at a feeder. You only count the maximum number of a particular type of bird you see at one time. That way, you know you’re not counting the same bird over and over as it returns to feed.

Because we were roaming over 4 miles of trails, we had to try to segregate areas in the hope that the birds were staying on one part of the property. For birds that we saw few of, that was a little clearer than birds that were everywhere.

I can’t remember ever seeing so many Flickers in one day. There are either hundreds of Flickers at Audubon Acres or we were being stalked by a group of 5-10 of them.

I discovered several things during the Christmas Bird Count. First, I really need to get back in the habit of hiking every weekend. I felt like it was a desperately needed breath of fresh air to get back outside after many weeks of neglecting that part of my life.

Second, there is something wrong with my brain that makes me see only similarities and not differences. The problem is worsened when the light is bad. I was mistaking bluebirds for robins. That’s not good. They’re not even close to the same size–even in silhouette they can be distinguished. But, I would see red on the breast and automatically go to Robin even though there are as many Eastern Bluebirds at Audubon Acres as there are Northern Flickers.

Finally, 400mm is not enough for shooting song birds. Although, I was very pleased with the shot of the two Yellow-bellied sapsuckers (it’s cropped). Now I just need to win the lottery to get a 600mm lens.

Happy Christmas

Posted by dkrashb on December 25, 2012

I am re-posting my blog from last year Christmas Eve. Feeling both nostalgic and concerned about what small things we can each do to make the world just a little bit better, it seemed like a good time to repeat this post. This time, I decided to add photos. I asked myself “what looks like peace?” when I went poking through my photos. I wish I had more portraits, but, turns out I’m a landscape photographer. Who knew?

All I Want for Christmas is World Peace

(originally posted December 24, 2011).

I would very much like to think of myself as a non-judgmental person. But then I catch myself saying something like, “that crazy person is so judgmental–s/he thinks s/he is better than everyone else” and realize this is a lesson I’ve yet to master.

If you judge people, you have no time to love them. Mother Theresa

Judgment riles me up, makes me feel righteous, justified, and even vengeful. It separates me into the “right” and leaves those I judge in the “wrong.” Having cast judgment, there is no need to listen or consider; all that can follow are proclamations.

Why do I judge? There are practical reasons to make judgments. For example, I choose to spell “judgment” with the standard American spelling instead of “judgement,” the standard British spelling. Which is preferable?

In my case, this simple choice hides a deeper judgment. I spell it “judgment” because I was taught that Americans who spell it “judgement” are ignorant. If someone were to comment that I misspelled “judgment,” I could point them to a dictionary and explain that this is the correct American spelling. I would be left feeling redeemed and, if I am painfully honest, even superior.

What I would not feel is connected to my fellow human being, negotiating the world together in harmony.

Love is the absence of judgment. The Dalai Lama

What would I lose in giving up my judgments? Clearly, my judgments benefit me in some way or I wouldn’t make them. Would I be less smart if I never judged someone else to be stupid? Would I be less hard working if I never judged anyone else to be lazy? Would I be less competent if I never judged someone else to be incompetent? Or do I make these judgments out of fear that I am what I judge? Is pointing at someone else and calling them names a way of separating myself from what I don’t want to be?

I would hate to be discounted because I made a mistake. What I would like is to be accepted for a flawed human being with the best of intentions. What I need is to be heard and understood without being called good or bad.

The moment that judgment stops through acceptance of what it is, you are free of the mind. You have made room for love, for joy, for peace. Eckhart Tolle

And that, dear reader, is what I want for Christmas: love, joy, and peace. I arm myself with the awareness that I judge. I prepare myself to notice when I am judging. I know that with attention, I can create more space for love, joy, and peace. And in this gift to myself, I hope I can contribute just a little to a gift to the world:

World peace must develop from inner peace. Peace is not the absence of violence. Peace is the manifestation of human compassion. The Dalai Lama

View of Downtown Chattanooga from Stringer’s Ridge in the fall

The rising full moon pauses over Walnut Street Bridge

This Eastern Bluebird–a harbinger of luck and happiness

While mountains offer dangerous adventures, viewed from a distance, their steadfastness always makes me feel peaceful.

Shot from Signal Point, the setting sun always puts me at ease.

What is more peaceful than a sleeping dog?

Beautiful skies always make me feel hopeful.

Christmas trees alone in the dark always seem so quiet and still. I can sit and stare at a Christmas tree for hours.

The ocean, when relatively calm, soothes all your troubles away.

Looking down the Tennessee River valley after a long hike makes my day.

Fog filters through the trees in the Black Forest in Germany.

I love light beams peeping through clouds–“god beams” as at least one of my photographer friends calls them.

Beautiful sailboats sail peacefully on this calm day on the Bodensee in Germany.

Photostreaming

Posted by dkrashb on December 24, 2012

Tisen has adopted a human style of sleeping.

Tisen isn’t fussy when it comes to what he’s willing to use as a pillow.

Tisen can’t decide whether to give in to his desire for a belly rub or his need to protect me from this stranger. He splits the difference by rolling over while growling.

Tisen seems to have gotten things reversed with his rear end high on a pillow.

Twiggy manages to curl up with the computer.

Twiggy, Tisen, and Pat all curl up for an afternoon siesta.

Well, here we are, getting settled in our new home. Today, we spent a couple of hours this morning cleaning our old apartment and gathering up the last remnants of our life there. Pat hauled 3 cart loads out to the van while I cleaned. We still have stuff in the storage rooms down the hall. That will have to wait until tomorrow. Or maybe even until after Christmas.

When we returned home, we worked on getting rid of the last of the packed boxes. We still don’t have a place for everything yet and the photos are scattered around on chairs waiting to be hung, but the unopened boxes are all gone and it’s starting to look like we really do live here.

The new place came with one big surprise we discovered our first night. When I got into bed, I had the sudden realization that a section of the building can see into our bed through a glass balcony door. While it’s probably only about 6 units that have a view, that’s 6 more units than I want peering into our bedroom.

As a temporary measure, we brought the shower curtain rod and curtain we’d been using in the bedroom as a closet door (it’s a long story) and hung that over the glass in the door. It looks great. The glass in the door is about 6 feet tall and the shower curtain is only 4. It’s also a black curtain and the building has a rule that all curtains have to be white on the outside. I’m hoping the blind comes in before anyone complains. In the meantime, at least we have a little privacy.

All of this “adjusting” has led to me not shooting for quite a while. In fact, it’s now been nearly two weeks since I last had my camera out on a shoot. This means I needed to come up with some photos to share today.

Thankfully, I have this wonderful feature called Photostream. By subscribing to Apple’s iCloud service, whenever I take/upload a photo on one device, it automatically appears on all my devices. That means all the silly photos I snap with my iPhone show up in Aperture on my macbook pro.

As it turns out, I have a whole collection of poor quality, but cute-as-a-button photos of my crazy dog and his girlfriend, Twiggy. Tisen has been on steroids again for a couple of weeks now. It makes him a little crazy. That and having the woman he loves staying with us day in and day out. He’s started showing off.

He doesn’t need to carry a toy with him when Twiggy is around. If he takes one with him, he drops it as soon as we get outside and won’t carry it after that. It’s as if he doesn’t think it’s manly.

While my iPhone photos don’t do the dogs justice, they still make me smile.

Oh, Christmas Tree

Posted by dkrashb on December 23, 2012

This very real looking artificial tree is easily 20 feet tall.

The tree is set and ready for the lines to start.

I love the lighted gifts hanging from the ceiling.

Twiggy’s rear end is just in the lower left. Tisen seems to want more lap time when Twiggy is around.

The bench is ready for Santa to come and visit with the children.

The bridge to the Asia exhibit makes for lovely lighting.

I’m glad I have the photos of the Chattanooga Zoo Christmas tree–it’s the closest I will come to a tree this year. Having given up long ago on decorating for Christmas because we were always gone for the holidays, we, of course, have decided to stay at home this year.

This is because we have just moved. We moved about 500 yards from one building to another. The new building is nicer with a little more space and a lot more quiet. But I’m not sure deciding to move on the Monday a week before Christmas was such a smart idea.

Even having downsized 3x, we still have boxes of stuff we don’t know what to do with. I don’t know how this happens. Furniture, papers, boxes multiple in the dark much like wire hangers and dust bunnies. Like goldfish, we grow to the maximum size the walls of our container will allow.

I suppose from that standpoint, right before Christmas is the perfect time to move–it’s a great reminder that we really don’t need these things that take over our space. Plus, having to buy a new washer and dryer, blinds, and closet organizers can serve as our Christmas gifts. The new washer and dryer just got installed this morning. Just in time–we were running out of clean unmentionables.

On the down side, the move motivated me to go shopping yesterday evening after work. I think it has been so long since I went shopping on the last Friday evening before Christmas that I had forgotten what that would be like.

I made it to the grocery store, the dog store, Target, and Lowes. I needed to go to Bed, Bath, and Beyond, but I couldn’t take it. My shopping tolerance was exceeded at Target and I still didn’t have any Christmas lights for our balcony, so I skipped getting towels and went to Lowes for a lighted garland instead. My homage to Christmas.

I nearly walked out of Target leaving my cart full of bulk toilet paper and miscellaneous supplies behind when I saw the lines. Fortunately, not everyone had figured out there were two rows of registers, so I was able to find a short line just in the nick of time. I really had had it by the time I got to that line.

The dogs were also starting to get impatient. As much as they love going along for a ride, they prefer not having to hang out in the car for too long. When I came out of Target, Tisen had taken up sentinel position in the driver’s seat. He looked very alert. This is usually a good indicator it’s getting close to dinner time.

Tonight, I look at the date and realize it’s almost the 23rd. I haven’t bought a single gift or even thought about doing cards yet. I guess my nephews won’t be getting their Christmas presents on time this year!

6 Years

Posted by dkrashb on December 22, 2012

As I write, it’s December 21st. The end of the Mayan calendar. The winter solstice. And, our 6th wedding anniversary–aka, “17 ½ years since our first date.”

Pat and I are apart today. He is in Columbus for the unveiling of a guitar he’s been building. I am left alone to ponder our six years together as a married couple.

The most repeated question my husband has asked me for the past 17 ½ years is, “Why do you love me.” In honor of our sixth anniversary, here are six reasons I love my husband.

We have things in common. Having something we both love to share makes staying connected a little easier. This was taken last year at one of the knobs in the Cherokee National Forest when we went to Snowbird Lodge for Thanksgiving weekend.
Standing on a Knob in Cherokee National Forest just outside of Great Smokey National Park
He’s willing to try things because I like them. Sometimes, we have divergent interests. But Pat can rally around part of one of my interests and share some of it. For example, he can’t get into birds in general, but he really loves raptors. This allowed him to enjoy a Raptor Experience, which was a dream for me and of only slight interest to him. I love when he doesn’t just “suffer through,” but genuinely enjoys something he would have never done if he didn’t love me.
Pat holding Artie, a physically challenged Barred Owl that cannot survive in the wild.
He loves dogs. It’s not about the dog as much as it’s about the man. A man who cannot empathize with creatures dependent on humans are usually men who are insecure, brutal, or psychopathic. While there may be other reasons not to like dogs, it’s not something I can really understand.
Pat cuddling Tisen shortly after he came to live with us.
He enjoys learning new things. My husband is a rare combination of inventor and explorer. He loves to tinker, experiment, figure out. Occasionally, he takes on a new adventurer. When we moved to Chattanooga, he repeatedly mentioned hang gliding–he really wanted to learn. In this case, I tried something new just because he wanted to. We both had a great experience learning. He swears he will fly again when he gets things more stable at his business. I don’t really care. I just enjoyed learning with him.
Pat gets set for his first mountain launch.
He has a sense of humor. This should probably be number one for me. I am incapable of loving a man who has no sense of humor. Fortunately for me, my husband is not only hilarious, but he thinks I’m funny at least half of the time I think I’m funny. I can’t imagine spending my life with someone who never gets my jokes.
How many husbands would understand why this shot was funny when originally posted with a bunch of photos of the moon?
He’s so smart, he can solve anything. He’s brilliant with any kind of mechanical issue. This goes back to #4. I often call him MacGyver. He could escape captivity with a pack of matches, a stick of gum, and a string. His brilliance is what I most admire about him.
I don’t have a photo of Pat problem solving, but can’t you just see in his face that he’s coming up with some new amazing invention?

There you have it. Six reasons I love my husband.

I love you, honey. Thanks for sticking it out with me.

OP Christmas

Posted by dkrashb on December 21, 2012

There are some things in life I really enjoy vicariously. As in, I don’t own them, I just appreciate someone else having made the investment I’m not willing to make. Two things that fall into this category for me are boats and Christmas decorations.

I really love Christmas decorations, but I hate getting them all out, putting them up, fixing what doesn’t work, and then taking them all down again and storing them–all when it’s really cold out. The amount of time you get to enjoy them seems disproportional to the amount of effort and space they require both during and after the holidays.

Hence, I decided to pursue OP Christmas lights this year. OP as in Other People’s. Fortunately for me, there were lots of opportunities to see Christmas lights. There was the Mainx24 event and parade. The Starlight parade. The Lighted Boat Parade. Rock City. And, now, the Chattanooga Zoo.

Rock City was a trip. We drove up to Lookout Mountain to see this popular Christmas destination. We got there before there was a line to drive into the parking lot, but there was already a 30 minute wait to buy tickets to get in the door.

When at long last we got through the gate, there was another 30 minute wait to get from the entrance gate to the main path. We found a way around to the upper trails, but Pat and Tisen hung out in the courtyard and waited for me so they didn’t have to fight the crowds. I took my camera and tripod and managed to politely force my way through the line to the alternate path.

After getting a few decent shots, but nothing really exciting, I was more than happy to call it quits and head back to Chattanooga. On the way back down, we passed bumper to bumper cars for at least 5 miles straight, all stopped as they waited to get into the parking lot for Rock City.

By comparison, I got a preview of the Chattanooga Zoo after hours. The reason why is too long a story to tell, but let’s just say it pays to know the right people. They stayed late after the zoo closed to let me in after dark so I could shoot their lights. It was the absolute opposite experience of shooting at Rock City.

Instead of long lines and jam-packed crowds, I got a personal guided tour, shuttled around on a maintenance truck, and was given plenty of space and time to shoot. I felt like a famous person or something.

While the Chattanooga Zoo would probably need to add at least 3 zeros to their bulb count to get to the number of lights at Rock City, I preferred the Chattanooga Zoo experience. I have a few more shots to share from the zoo tomorrow, but today’s shots were from the entry area. I had a particularly good time trying to capture the hippo’s head moving.

Stream of Unconsciousness

Posted by dkrashb on December 20, 2012

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It’s 11:08PM EST. I’m falling asleep as I type. I’ve been up since 5:00AM. At the end of the day, I pulled up the photos I’d processed for tomorrow morning’s post. They are from Rock City when I went up to shoot the Christmas lights.

Several things occur to me as I start typing. First, approximately 3 people will read what I write tonight. Odds are in favor of me being able to get away with saying anything.

In the interest of saying anything, here is an experiment in free writing when one ignores constraints such as basic grammar rules, logic, and even consciousness–who says you have to be awake when you’re writing? Instead, I’ve decided to see what happens when I write while I’m falling asleep.

A black and white dog approaches. The girl squats to get get down to his level.

The dog approaches and feels a pretty special in the most obvious of spots. He doesn’t growl at her–a first in his shot history of co-existing amongst higher-class humans than he was used to.

Instead, the dog takes his place in line, making a formidable barrier between those who would take what they need and those who are happy to earn it. Tisen is all about earnings. He has no comprehension of what we decided years ago for on prem licenses. But we are trying to accommodate.

I have to stop here for a moment, shaking my head trying to clear it of cobwebs to determine if I can possibly finish this point–or, more accurately, to determine if I had a point or if this is just random talk popping up as I nod off while typing. It’s mostly just random.

As I sit with finger tips hovering over key board, I start typing in a stream of consciousness fashion that won’t impact the embarrassment in honor of Christmas.

I imagine telling a partner that we’re releasing a small number of parts and contract agreements .

I re-read and realize I’ve just typed a series of sentences that make me think of collecting automated data details from the set top box of the cable solution. Oops–I’ve done it again–written in a way that sounds like one of those spam comments on wordpress. All this time, I’ve been wondering how they come up with the wording for those. Apparently, all you have to do is type while you’re nodding off.

My back is aching. My hips have had enough. I learn that only FedEx and UPS are handling these expert deliveries. I decide that Santa must have had enough too. After all is there enough “common caring” oil that a grower might be able to offset right before Christmas. Oops, I must have started to nod off while typing again.

Well, this post makes no sense. But, I’d love to know if you noticed. Leave me a comment or a like if you read this.

When I Grow Up . . .

Posted by dkrashb on December 19, 2012

Santa closes the parade.

Have you ever seen a more perfect elf?

The young boy sitting next to me had it own miniature santa.

I believe this guy was part of the Chattanooga Zoo entourage.

The Chatt Zoo mascott.

A serious color guard does the flag proud.

The Chatt Roller Girls pose briefly

Some girls grow up to be roller derby stars. This is a sport I think I can relate to–I’ve never actually seen a roller derby, so I’m only guessing. It just seems like if you’ve had a really bad day at the office and you like to roller skate, this would be the perfect sport.

With helmets, knee, and elbow pads, it’s enough protection to eliminate the whole fear of skin sticking to wood floors. I’ve heard there are often broken bones, but heck, broken bones grow back stronger.

This gets me thinking about the classic question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I’m guessing not too many parents says things to their kids like, “Stay in school, get good grades, roller skate every evening, and you can get into the roller derby.” Yet, why not?

I think there should be a few ground rules for deciding what you want to be when:

Know your instinct. Before you knew people expected things from you, before you knew you had to make enough money to support a family, before you knew you would be judged for what job you had, what was the thing you said you wanted to be? Keep some of that with you.
Ignore what other people think. Many people don’t know what they want to be when they grow up. Even long after they’ve grown up. This usually happens when a person allows their sense of responsibility to overcome their desire to be happy. Don’t do this to yourself. A job you love is far easier to go do well every day, whether it meets other people’s expectations or not. A job you do well is a job that creates opportunities for you.
Think short term. Setting a course is just a direction; it doesn’t obligate you to decide permanently. Just because you wanted to be a firefighter when you were 7 doesn’t mean that at 18 you’re obligated to go off to firefighter school. There’s a lot to be said for experimentation.
Bring your best “you” to work. No matter what you do or how long you do it, it’s a job. It’s not a “come hang out and talk to me while I work” or a “come get a bunch of free samples”. And there are always people looking for the up and comers. Don’t forget to bring your character to work with you–don’t expect to receive what you don’t give.
Remember what’s important. Every once in a while, remind yourself you’re doing your job for 8+ hours a day, 5+ days a week and ask your internal child (the one that looks something like the Santa’s elf image) if this is how you really want to spend most of your waking hours.

BTW, my brother used to want to be a UPS driver–he thought delivering packages all year was far better than only doing it on Christmas.

Fear and Fear Itself

Posted by dkrashb on December 18, 2012

The hula hoop never seemed so exciting before.

Tonight’s images are from some of the most dynamic participants in the Starlight Parade. I think the gymnasts were the most thrilling. Although the fire twirlers are evocative, perhaps it just comes down to the degree of difficulty between twirling brands with burning ends and flipping and hand springing across asphalt–and, the probability of disaster.

While fire, of course, creates its own sense of danger and requires respect, the probability of lighting oneself on fire seems to be rather low, although I was concerned about one young woman’s choice to wear a gathered skirt. The probability of falling on one’s face mid-flip onto also-known-as-cheese-grater black top seems quite high.

It could be that this is just my personal experience. I feel relatively safe handling burning things and have actually never (knock wood) caused an uncontrolled fire. I’ve also never burnt myself playing with sparklers, candles, burning marshmallows (which strikingly resemble the firebrands twirled in the parade), campfires, camp stoves, or grills. I believe the only non-cooking-related fire injury I’ve ever suffered from was when I tried to light a bunch of birthday candles with a lighter and the metal part of the lighter overheated and burned my thumb. It was only a minor burn.

While I’ve had my share of bad burns in my lifetime, none of them have involved flames. What woman my age didn’t at some point accidentally brand her neck with a curling iron? Or get in a hurry and grab a pan out of the oven without getting a hot pad first? Or how about wipe out on a moped and get a third degree burn from the muffler? We’ve all done that, haven’t we?

And speaking about wiping out on a moped, this brings me back to the fear of asphalt. The most painful accident I ever had (including many broken bones) was when I took a ride hand turn on my bicycle way too fast for the space I had. I was turning onto a narrow side street coated with what’s fondly known as “chip and tar.” Instead of the smooth goo they put down for asphalt, they spread a layer of fine gravel and then spray it with a tar coating to stick the gravel in place and keep the dust down.

My rear wheel slipped across loose pieces of gravel. I went down hard enough to slide about a foot or so.

When I got up and looked at my knee, I pretty good chunk of it was missing. I looked more carefully and realized there were fine curly-queues of a substance resembling wide dental floss coming out of my knee. I later learned they were “shavings” off the tendon below my skin. Still gives me the creeps to think about it.

In the end, I have come to the conclusion that the human brain works very simply when it comes to fear: We fear what we most know to be terrifying.

This woman is marching, looking straight up, and twirling firebrands. I’m impressed.

Father and daughter watch the parade next to me.

Graceful and dangerous–very entertaining.

I was really worried she was going to catch her skirt on fire.

Gymnast and shadow about to be re-introduced.

This guy was fearless on the asphalt street.

Bring on the Parade

Posted by dkrashb on December 17, 2012

Not sure if there’s still room to sleep in this camper, but the tree sure looks nice.

It’s hard for me to look at my parade pictures today. I remind myself that every child shouldn’t suffer because of the 20 lost on Friday. Perhaps the loss makes Christmas (or whichever holiday each family celebrates), hope, and cheer that much more important.

I realize the feeling I have is the same one I always get following a tragedy. It’s best described as “heightened visceralness” (even if it’s not a real word).

Most of the time, I go through life thinking about what I need to do in the next hour, the next day, the next week. I push aside any bubbling sensations in my stomach, throat, or guts and stay focused on what I need to get done.

In the process of disconnecting from my visceral reactions, I also seem to disconnect from my own life. I often walk into rooms and wonder why I’m there, fail to realize my husband has come home or left, or drive somewhere without being able to recall any part of the drive.

When I am reminded how tentative life can be, first I choke. My throat closes, I have trouble breathing. Then I cry. Then I am left with rumblings in the pit of my stomach that I suspect are the disquiet of knowing I am doing nothing to change anything.

I have a sneaking suspicion that these visceral reactions happen every day, but until I am literally choked with tears (which doesn’t happen often), I refuse to pay attention to them.

Now that I am paying attention, I am reminded once again that I must pay attention to now. To the moments I have. Like the moment I am in right now sitting on the sofa, typing, dog curled next to me with a warm foot pressed against my leg.

To fail to notice each moment because I’m so distracted by the news is to give a piece of my life to a dead gunman in Connecticut when it’s far too late to make a difference.

And so, I close my browser full of news feeds and videos about Sandy Hook elementary. I pull up the photos I’d prepared for yesterday’s post. I think of all the smiling children at the Chattanooga Starlight Parade with a warm feeling akin to a mental hug. I say to myself, “Bring on the parade.”

“And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.”

~Gilbert K. Chesterton

That said, here are the next set of photos from the Starlight Parade in downtown Chattanooga. I’m normally not that excited by cars in a parade. But, I did enjoy the creative decorations folks came up with. I especially enjoyed the children around me calling out the names of familiar characters they saw go by.