This challenge is now closed! Click here to see the prize-winning entries.
Many thanks to everyone who participated in Fascinating Feathers 2014! We’ve enjoyed receiving your stunning entries.
For this Challenge, we asked you to be creative and take photos, create some artwork, shoot video, write a story or a poem, or create a sculpture. The goal was to show how birds’ feathers can be functional, stunningly beautiful, practical, or bizarre. Your entries were fantastic!
Below you will find the Recognized Entries. Enjoy!
Prizes include Opticron binoculars, Pennington bird feeders, bird sound CDs, waterproof bird foldout guides, and more!
New York can be a difficult city for a shy woman raised in the country. I moved here nearly a decade ago, from a small, quiet town in rural Georgia. At the time I’d felt that I needed to be in the big city in order to be closer to the arts, to find artistic community, and perhaps to even consider myself a “real artist,” though it meant leaving behind the natural world that had always inspired me. Starved for greenery and the connection with nature I grew up with, I soon found myself spending every spare minute I had in Central Park. It was during one of my park excursions a few autumns ago, that I noticed a brightly colored yellow bird gliding through the trees in the North Woods. That first sighting of what I later learned to be a warbler, a Common Yellowthroat, passing through during Fall migration, began a serious interest for me which turned into an outright passion for birding. I grew more and more skilled at species identification, and as a new birder, took pleasure in learning the names and distinguishing characteristics of many migratory songbirds. Yet, it wasn’t until this past year that I began to appreciate a bird I saw almost everyday here in New York City, the Rock Dove, or city pigeon.
Few of the more experienced birders I became acquainted with in Central Park seemed to count pigeons as really worth noticing. Maybe it’s the old adage “familiarity breeds contempt,” or it could be the fact that only rarer IDs are deemed impressive by many more experienced birders, but I soon heard the familiar insults (largely myths I have to add) aimed at the lowly Rock Dove from the mouths of professed bird enthusiasts: “You feed a pigeon, you feed a rat,” “they spread diseases,” and of course the ubiquitous labeling of pigeons as “rat’s with wings”; it wasn’t until I began volunteering at the Wild Bird Fund on Manhattan’s Upper West Side last winter, that my preconceptions about pigeons slowly began changing; and it really wasn’t until one special pigeon found me, that I came to see these birds as the truly special creatures they really are.
What a strange world New York turned out to be for me! Growing up in the Deep South, I was accustomed to a much slower pace. Everywhere I turned in Manhattan, life seemed to be about hustle and bustle, money and profits, heady wheelings and dealings in the world of real estate, a mad rush to finish first and make a profit. Each day I watched people hurrying along incessantly, rarely smiling or stopping to say hello. And unlike the world of my upbringing where even in my college apartment in Athens, Georgia, nearly everybody had a bird feeder on their balcony, I learned that birds were looked on with hostility by many city dwellers. I don’t mean to imply that all New Yorkers feel this way, but it does seem to me that city living can have a way of hardening people, disconnecting us from nature and all the other living beings with whom we share our world; particularly as humans gain more money and power, we seem to feel entitled to control and dominate others, not to want to share our space, not to make room for any animal who might dare to live alongside us. We designate areas where wildlife can go and be seen, but the city itself, many of us have decided, is for us, the people, the ones who count and belong in the landscape we’ve created; a no birds zone where wildlife simply isn’t welcome.
As for those few birds who do dare to live near us, we view them with suspicion, annoyance, even outright contempt, and I believe this is part of where hatred towards pigeons stems. And I want to be clear that—though I never hated pigeons outright, for a time, I was very much of the same mindset in the sense that I didn’t like them very, frequently ignored them, found them strange, and potentially fearful.
Before I volunteered at the Wild Bird Fund, I viewed pigeons with indifference and a little bit of dread. Me, a woman I think most of my friends would describe as an avid lover of nature, kind and tenderhearted—I was scared to touch a pigeon, afraid they would hurt me in some way. I had heard all the stories about how “contaminated” they supposedly were. I remember specifically with great shame a storm that happened several years ago, during which I passed by an fallen pigeon, floundering in the downpour near my street; and because I was afraid to touch it, I hesitated for a moment, but ultimately left it there. The next day, I found its dead, drenched body at the gate to the park.
And in a way, I paid for my callousness. In refusing to look at pigeons as remarkable birds and a potential source of connectedness with nature in one of the most urban environments imaginable, I denied myself a source of solace, the comfort of a wild, living being capable of surviving a sea of human generated concrete, bringing swift agility and gracefulness, a touch of life to a grey, cold metropolis. I’m convinced I became more stressed out, depressed, and alienated than I would have felt living in the city, had I cared for pigeons from the beginning.
Not surprisingly, when I decided to volunteer at the Bird Fund, at first I was disappointed that there were so many sick pigeons. I’d been looking forward to holding Northern Flickers and helping brightly colored warblers. I’d imbibed the attitude of some of my sophisticated birder friends who saw pigeons as no count nuisances. Gradually though, as I learned how to feed orphaned squabs (baby pigeons) a mixture of seed and wet puppy chow, how to tube feed sicker birds and give them medicine, my attitude towards the Rock Dove began changing. I noticed how many different colors pigeons came in, how much personality they had (particularly those well enough to have “flight time” in the downstairs infirmary as they waited to be released when ready) and how soft and smooth their feathers were to the touch. I began to like holding pigeons, helping them, appreciating the ways they in turn helped me learn about avian medicine and birds in general. Sometimes I watched trained wildlife rehabbers deal with the more fragile songbirds who came into the Bird Fund—tiny House Wrens seemed so delicate and intimidating to me; I’d have been afraid to touch one for fear of breaking it, whereas pigeons were a bigger, sturdier, less intimidating bird to work with and learn from.
But the biggest shift in my attitude towards pigeons occurred this past year in Central Park. It was late summer when I went for a walk, and that day at the entrance to my street, very near the place where years ago I’d left another bird to die, I noticed a small flock of about eight pigeons. Among them was a fairly nondescript little gray bird whom I soon saw was limping, unable to use her left leg. Her foot dangled painfully below her, hanging useless and curled. I took a few peanuts that I had in my bag for a snack, and threw them out on the ground. The little flock munched appreciatively, and I kept supplying the little gray pigeon in particular with more nuts, until, slowly but surely, she got closer and closer to me. This is one of the neatest things about feral pigeons, in my opinion—you can often single out one in a flock and it will respond to being “chosen” by you, coming closer and interacting with you. If you do this repeatedly, you can soon have for yourself a wild “pet” who looks for you whenever you come to a spot it frequents.
The little gray pigeon I’d singled out that day seemed extremely bold (probably because she was hungry, given that a wounded bird can’t compete as well with others for food), and soon came so close to me that I thought I might be able to catch her so that I could take her to the Bird Fund.
I had crouched on the ground and reached out my hand quickly but gently, trying to put my hands down over the little bird’s wings as I’d learned to do when it was time to put rescued birds who’d had flight time back into their cages. But catching a wild bird in an unconfined space turned out to be a lot trickier than it was indoors. Every time I almost had her, the little pigeon would side step away, (a maneuver that lead me to give her the nickname “Sally”) until finally, she flew up to a tree out of my sight and out of reach. I sighed. Reluctantly I walked away, wondering what would become of her. There had been something memorable about that little pigeon-she wasn’t fancy or “beautiful” at all, not in any brightly colored way. There was just so much character in the way she interacted with me, though. I noticed one of her eyelids had a heaviness to it that made her look a little sad and anxious. She had large black pupils, and a very sweet, expressive face. She looked beaten up, but still, she was trying so hard to survive. Now that I wasn’t scared of pigeons, I’d gotten close enough to really see her—a small, vibrant spark of life, a living soul—and the result of that interaction was, I began to care. I worried for that little pigeon. I wished that I could have caught her somehow. I knew that if I could, I’d be able to take her to WBF, where I’d seen birds with broken legs or wings treated and healed.
One day passed, then another. When I walked through the park, I looked for the little lame pigeon, hoping maybe I might have a chance to try again. But I didn’t see her. I felt as though my chance had gone. When I lay down that night, I wondered what would happen to her.
In the morning I woke up, and looked out on my fire escape where I’d left an empty planter filled with potting soil after harvesting some basil I’d planted. And there, to my amazement, waiting for me in that spot, was a little face, gray and curious—it was Sally the pigeon! She sat still in the planter, looking at me intently. Though I don’t live far from the entrance to the park where I’d seen her flock, I was amazed that she had been able to locate me. I often put out seed on my windowsill for local birds, and perhaps she knew I was an easy meal for one unable to forage at full capacity. Regardless, I viewed this as my second chance to give her a second chance, and so resolved to try and catch her again.
I put a little seed on the windowsill. Sally eagerly approached, and though two other pigeons flew down beside her, on one leg, Sally bowed and cooed and growled so menacingly that they both backed away. I knew then that I had to save this little bird-she was such a fighter, so determined to survive even though she’d had a bit of bad luck. She ate furiously, but when I tried to creep up to the window and grab her, she always flew just out of reach.
But this time I was not to be thwarted. I went into the other room, my bedroom, and placed a little seed on a table just inside the window. Then I opened the window about half way, left the room, and waited. After a little while, I heard a noise coming from the bedroom, which I soon recognized as the sound of birdseed scattering on the floor. Very quietly and slowly I crept back into the room. Sure enough, little gray gimpy Sally had crawled into my window and was now munching eagerly away at the seed I’d put out for her. To save space in a small Manhattan apartment, I have a loft bed, the head of which butts up against the window in my bedroom. Quietly, very quietly, I crawled up to the top of the bed; from there I was able to slide the window closed from the top, before the little pigeon noticed what I was doing. Once the window was closed, she did notice, but because she was now indoors I was able to catch her as I’d learned to catch pigeons at the Bird Fund (holding her wings against her body once I had her, so as not to bend or hurt them). I noticed that she had lost several feathers on the wing on the same side as her hurt foot. I called the Bird Fund to ask if I could bring in an injured bird, and once I got the okay, I packed up my pigeon and took her on the subway.
When we arrived, a wildlife rehabber named Eugene evaluated Sally. He said she did in fact have a broken leg. But fortunately, at the Wild Bird Fund, they know just what to do for this injury. Just like a person with a broken bone, Sally needed a cast so that her leg could heal properly. I help her as gently as possible on her back while I watched Eugene ingeniously unbend a paperclip so that it made a right angle that fit neatly against the shape of Sally’s leg. He then carefully wrapped surgical gauze around the paper clip again and again, until Sally had a little, pigeon-sized cast. Since the Wild Bird Fund is often full to capacity with injured birds found and brought in from all of NYC’s five boroughs, and since I’d already fostered a few pigeons previously, I agreed to take Sally home with me for the period of her recovery. She would need cage rest, clean water and food, and time to let her leg begin to heal. Eugene said, judging by the break and the missing feathers of her wing, she had most likely been hit by a car, a common hazard for pigeons in New York City. I wondered why somebody hadn’t been more careful of her, and hoped no one would have done such a mean thing purposely.
Sally and I spent three and a half weeks together. During that time, she lived in my room. Once each week I took her back to the Bird Fund to have her reevaluated. She needed a total of 3 casts, the first two hard (hence, the paperclip for support) and the last a “soft cast” made from bright red sports medicine tape. Sally’s leg was healing nicely, and surprisingly, I was really enjoying having her in my home! I cleaned her cage at least once a day, but having been both a cat and dog owner in the past, strange as this may sound, I was astounded by how good feral pigeons smell. I guess when you eat a strictly vegan diet of nothing but birdseed, your poop really benefits! I’d also been shown at WBF how to give Sally a syringe full of pain meds for the first week I had her, and when I held her to open her beak, I loved how soft and beautiful her feathers were. She had the sweetest little inquisitive face, and was very entertaining to live with. She found perches on my bookshelves without knocking anything over, hid in some of my flower pots, and sometimes woke me up with soft little coos in the morning.
Soon Sally’s leg had completely healed. Though non-releasable pigeons can make wonderful pets, since Sally was a totally releasable bird at this point, I knew it wouldn’t be fair to keep her. I took her into the park for three days in a row, threw down some seed and watched the flock I’d found her with come down from nearby buildings along Central Park West. For three days I let Sally watch them from the carrier—a technique called “soft release”—so that she could hopefully remember them and rejoin her flock, since pigeons need group support to survive the weather and fend off predators. Each time her flock came down, Sally paced restlessly in the carrier. She still knew she was a pigeon and seemed eager to rejoin her little crew. On the third day, I kissed Sally gently on her head before I put her in the carrier and walked out to the park entrance. I was afraid to release her, worried for her in a city where life is hard for wild birds and where human beings aren’t always kind, but I knew that she was meant to be a wild bird and that I had to give her that chance.
This day, when I scattered seed on the ground and her flock came down, I slowly opened the door of the carrier and watched Sally first tentatively, and then with a little more assurance, flutter out and slowly rejoin her group. She looked small and fragile, having lived inside with a human for so long, but I watched until her little flock ate all the seed I’d put out, and then flew away. And when they did, Sally flew with them. Later that afternoon, I checked back in the same spot to make sure she hadn’t returned, unsure or confused about what to do. She had not. I felt optimistic that she’d managed to reintegrate herself with the group of pigeons she belonged to.
That night, I was a little sad. It was the first night in several weeks that I hadn’t had little Sally in the room with me. She had taken to sleeping on the top of my tall wardrobe, backed against the wall in her favorite “perching spot.” Now that spot, an unnoticed little corner of the room before her, seemed strangely empty. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, I went into the kitchen, and who do you think was perched on my window sill? It was Sally! I smiled, overjoyed to see her, and then hurried into the other room where I had some birdseed. I put out a little on the windowsill, but when I did so, Sally hopped to another ledge out of my reach. She wouldn’t come back to eat the seed until I finally closed the window. Then she bounced onto the ledge and gobbled down her breakfast thankfully, but when, after watching her eat for a while I opened the window once again, in a flash of feathers she took off and was gone.
I still often see Sally-she comes back to my window to wish me a good morning and have a snack, and then goes off to do her own thing; sometimes, we look at each other, and I know she recognizes me. A few other pigeons come to my window ledge too, but none will let me get as close to them as Sally, yet, anytime I open the window, she flies away. It’s as though she’s reassuring me that, even though she appreciates my help and continued assistance to her survival through a little free birdseed, she wants to be, and now can be, a healthy wild bird. I feel proud when I see her fly, like a parent letting a child go off into the world, knowing that this was how things were meant to be. I am always grateful that Sally chose to let me help her, and that she showed me how charismatic, resilient, and beautiful New York City’s official birds are. Be safe wherever you fly, little Sally!
New York, NY, United States
Rescuing, rehabilitating, and releasing an injured pigeon in Manhattan.
Enfield, CT, United States
Toronto, ON, Canada
Wilmette, IL, United States
Shreveport, LA, United States
I love the water reflected on the underside of the wing of the first of the two Snowy Egrets. They were getting set to drag their feet in the water to stir up the fish.
New London, NH, United States
Virginia, United States
I saw this bird at a neighborhood park and I wanted to get a photo of him. That turned out to be really difficult because it was fall and he was the same color as the leaves, and he was very small and very fast. This photo is a result of many days of trying to spot him and get a nice, clear, photograph.
Hopkinton, MA, United States
When near the feeder, white-breasted nuthatch sometimes spread their wings and move their bodies forward and sideways to try and scare other birds from the feeder.
Dayton, VA, United States
WHAT FEATHERS DO?
by Kieran Kraemer-Curtiss
Some feathers are for work
And some are for show.
But some feathers have jobs
That I bet you don't know.
Flight feathers, of course,
Are for getting the birds in the air
And tail feathers
Are to help them steer everywhere.
Woodpeckers use their tails
In a way I must tell
They use them on tree trunks
For balancing well.
Some birds have their feathers
Colored just so.
The bird is hidden
From head to toe.
For all the feathers
That birds use
Some for everyday living
And some for a muse.
Millions of different feathers
Which I'm sure would weigh a ton.
God designed all the feathers
Every single one.
Plymouth, WI, United States
Woodstock, GA, United States
A wren that perched daily on the corner of the deck, preening and singing. I thought this particular picture made him look like he was dancing!
Brevard, FL, United States
It’s difficult to be certain, but I believe this is a Red-shouldered Hawk. I drive this route on a daily basis through Florida farmland and orchards, but have only ever seen it this one time. Red-shouldered Hawks frequent the area and, in fact, there was a typical Red-shouldered Hawk present when I photographed this hawk. While the lack of pigment makes its plumage and eyes particularly striking, leucism and albinism present challenges for any bird that relies on otherwise camouflaged feathers when hunting.
Lyme, NH, United States
Lilac-breasted roller Masai Mara, Kenya
Coronado, CA, United States
Some of my photography is taken while out in my kayak which doesn’t seem to startle the birds as much as trying to approach on foot and gives a little different perspective to my pictures.
Tewksbury, MA, United States
Dreaded grackle hoards swoop down on our feeder, devour the food, and drive off all off all of the other birds. Devils that they are, they do leave behind some lovely feathers.
New Jersey, United States
Feathers I have collected from all over the world over the last 20 years or so…
Robert J. Brennan III
South Kingstown, RI, United States
Cardston, AB, Canada
1. Camouflaged juvenile Great Horned Owlet making itself and extension of a tree stump.
2. Male and Female Great Horned Owls camouflaged in a snowy tree.
Oceanville, Galloway, New Jersey, United States
Found these green-winged teals walking in unison at Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge.
Edinburg, Texas, United States
I came up on this Red Eyed Vireo while he was preening without him even noticing.
Pottstown, PA, United States
A Great Blue Heron that I often see hanging around the creek in back of my house. I’ve photographed him numerous times but this was the first I’d seen him sitting with his wings out in this comical looking pose. He sat sunning himself like this for quite a while.
Valparaiso, IN, United States
One cold, winter day, I noticed a European Starlings warming itself in the afternoon sun. I was struck by the stunning beauty of its iridescent feathers. Previously, I had always associated European Starlings with the hoards of Starling invaders that swooped down with voracious appetites to devour the seed of my backyard feeders.
A RHAPSODY OF FEATHERS
By: Mariecor Agravante
How the ostrich plume found a rather English life
On fascinators owned by an aristocrat;
How the peacock feather meandered its own way
To a Gilded Age Gibson Girl’s bombazine hat;
How the painted feather of the sacred eagle
Was earned by the budding warrior chief in combat;
How Darwin could well have been entranced with how a
Bowerbird engineers a calamus-pinion matte;
How the unmatched sharp stroke of an antique goose quill
Yet remains the writing tool of some bureaucrat;
How pariah colonists found themselves feathered
After being dunked with hot tar from a big vat;
How farmers loyal to Odin loved powder down
And thus strove to protect the eider habitat;
How Druids donned crow-feathered robes while invoking
Sky gods for celestial knowledge—imagine that;
How classical Greeks thought pennae were reminders
Of Icarus, whom craftsman Daedalus begat;
How ancient pharaohs saw plumage as symbolic
Of Truth-and-Order’s deity, goddess Ma’at;
And how archaeopteryx left faint impressions
Of avian fluff crests in fossilized mud flat—
Such is my reverie of feathers that tickle
With soft charms that allure, no matter how fickle.
San Diego, CA, United States
Poem highlighting examples of feather functionality through the ages
DeBary, FL, United States
A young Barred Owl with soft downy feathers looks a lot like the Spanish moss on either side of the bird.
Diamond Beach, New South Wales, Australia
Whilst playing in our backyard (three streets from the beach) my brothers and I did not realize that we had a Tawny Frogmouth watching us until we looked up to see Black Cockatoo’s screeching across the sky. There it was camouflaged in the palm tree leaves still as a board with just a twitch of its eye to let us know it saw us. We often look for them, one of our favourite birds, in the big Tea Tree where the Tawny Frogmouth’s feathers look exactly like the bark but it was amazing to see how well it was camouflaged in the Palm Tree.
I took a few photos but I think these two show it up the best.
Annabelle (Aged 9)
These two social flycatchers (of three) were a loyal company about three months in my floating garden in the apartment building where I live (4th floor). They came all days and stay in that branch and sing all the time. Having that view all days was really beautiful, that’s why I chose this category. Now I’m waiting they come the next year 🙂
Wayne, MI, United States
This beauty showed up in my feeder with a large flock of sparrows. I was told he is a sparrow with a pigment mutation.
Ashley De Leon
Puerto Rico 189, Gurabo, Puerto Rico
Bananaquits, known as “Reinitas” in Puerto Rico can be found anywhere in the island, highlighting our landscapes with their yellow,white, orange, black, and gray colors. Their thrills are also a lovely wake up call in the mornings. They tend to hang out in large groups, and can share the space with Gorriones, so keep your eyes and ears open for both species if you set up a simple feeder with sugar and rice grains.
Watercolor study of four feathers from popular/well known birds. Duck, Owl, Cardinal and Crow
Tucson, AZ, United States
This Coooper’s Hawk dove off the top of the telephone pole with its wings tucked in to gain momentum at take-off. It remained tucked for a short time and, after gathering steam, began it’s flight across the desert
Santa Cruz, CA, United States
Lauching into flight this Northern Flicker seems to have some beautiful fall season feathers without the slightest ruffle or missing sections.
Winnie, TX, United States
The nighthawks become visible only when we get 5-6′ from them. Their coloring blends so well with the rock & weeds.
Manado, Sulawesi Utara, Indonesia
Scaly-breasted Munia in my University (University of Sam Ratulangi, Manado)
Vancouver, BC, Canada
A pen drawing of the details of a beautiful, random white feather.
Opelika, AL, United States
This striking incredibly graceful Swallow-tailed Kite took my breath as the bird swooped over a field catching and eating insects on the wing.
Idaho Falls, ID, United States
Minocqua, WI, United States
Birds use their feathers for an extensive variety of actions. To attract mates, camouflage, fly, swim, stay warm, and line their nests are only a few examples. This is a collection of birds portraying the usefulness of birds’ feathers in flight as well as in rest. Birds are magical, I hope you enjoy!
Esteban Castaño Osorio
Armenia - Quindío, Colombia
En medio de una visita al humedal San Carlos, ubicado en la ciudad de Armenia, nos encontramos este y otros ejemplares del Cormorán neotropical, sin embargo, este sobresalió al realizar su rutina de baile inspirada en el gran éxito de Michael Jackson – Thriller.
leucism is a scarce studied subject concerning birds
Richland, WA, United States
Flock of 5 chukar on a basalt rock flow near Rattlesnake Springs located in the Fitzner-Eberhardt Arid Lands Ecology Reserve (ALE) in Washington (Rattlesnake Slope). Photo was taken shortly after a wildland range fire removed all the vegetative cover, yet the 5 large chukar are still so well hidden against the rocks people have called this photo a bird version of a “Where’s Waldo” image.
Howe, IN, United States
Cedar Waxwing eating berries on the Hawthorne tree in our backyard.
Baltimore Oriole in for a landing on the Hawthorne tree in our backyard
Littleton, CO, United States
A mountain chickadee ready for a frigid winter with feathers completely fluffed. No better winter coat exists…certainly none prettier!
Saratoga Springs, NY, United States
During the winter, I woke up to find this crime scene outside the bedroom. Did the owl win?
Cochecton Center, NY, United States
A portrait of the beautiful Ruby Throated Hummingbird
Patoka River National Wildlife Refuge, Winslow, IN, United States
A young Barred Owl napping in the morning sun.
Oak Harbor, OH, United States
A very well camouflaged American Woodcock sitting on her nest and eggs, as seen from the boardwalk at Magee Marsh Wildlife Area, 5/3/2013.
New Milford, PA, United States
Tufted Titmouse just got done taking a bath and was completely soaked.
Cheektowaga, NY, United States
This mama mallard was sitting on eggs in this dead tree trunk on one of the trails in a nature preserve. I almost missed her, she never moved.
Hampton, NB, Canada
My camera shutter and a gust of wind collide on a blue jay. 🙂
New York City, NY, United States
This season, I have taken several interesting pictures of the plumage and preening of birds in Central Park, NYC. It is fascinating to see birds taking care of the daily business of keeping their all important feathers in good shape. Without this hard work, they cannot fly well. Central Park is host to several raptors, and they need to be fit in every possible way to avoid predation. It is a privilege to look into this window of bird behavior. I am thrilled that I caught some of these fundamental processes on camera without disturbing the birds. In addition, I caught some moments of plumage display that are captivating.
Shelburne, VT, United States
Elkins, WV, United States
I am working on a series of animal spirit masks.
One of the first Civil War battles was fought close to my home in
Elkins WV. It was the Battle of Rich Mountain near the town of
Beverly, now WV. Scared Soldiers were dug in in the woods and I
imagine that during the nights they heard, felt and imagined animals
close to them. Some of my masks are semi-realistic, others are
I think the same feeling comes to you if you live in the city and go
into the dark yard or park near you. My grandsons love sitting on a
log just a little bit away from the house in the woods and listen to
the sounds, which spark their imagination.
Cole Camp, MO, United States