Lone Ranger

Lone Ranger

About this project

I have no idea, of cour­se, how long it took me to reach the limit of the plain, but at last I ent­e­red the foot­hills, fol­lowing a pret­ty litt­le can­yon upward toward the moun­tains. Bes­i­de me froli­cked a laug­hing brook­let, hur­ry­ing upon its noi­sy way down to the silent sea. In its quie­ter pools I dis­co­ve­r­ed many small fish, of four-or five-pound weight I should ima­gi­ne. In appearan­ce, except as to size and color, they were not unli­ke the wha­le of our own seas. As I wat­ched them play­ing about I dis­co­ve­r­ed, not only that they suck­led their young, but that at inter­vals they rose to the sur­face to brea­the as well as to feed upon cer­tain gras­ses and a stran­ge, scar­let lichen which grew upon the rocks just abo­ve the water line.
It was this last habit that gave me the oppor­tu­ni­ty I cra­ved to cap­tu­re one of the­se her­bi­vo­r­ous cetaceans—that is what Per­ry calls them—and make as good a meal as one can on raw, warm-bloo­ded fish; but I had beco­me rather used, by this time, to the eating of food in its natu­ral sta­te, though I still bal­ked on the eyes and entrails, much to the amu­se­ment of Ghak, to whom I always pas­sed the­se delicacies.

Details

Date:  26. Mai 2014
Skills:  Stills, Urban
Client:  Kurt Lamark