babes afloat

I thought no creature was to be more studiously avoided than The Grandmother with a Wallet Filled with Photographs of Grandchildren.

I was wrong.

There is me.  The guy who is so enamored with the little crocodile hatchlings in his back yard that he acts as if they carry his DNA.

I trust the mood will pass -- and we can get back to talking about birds and bees and whatever else we have been talking about because I cannot get images of baby crocs out of my head.

So, just two shots.

The first one is at the top of this post.  I took it on Friday.  Of an intrepid babe who took off on his own at the far end of the pond.  As far away from his mother as he could get.  The Freudian issues run rampant.

And then there was this family shot from yesterday.

Mom is sticking around the area.  And for these two new swimmers that is fortunate.  Because she acted as a patient flotation devise for them.  One of them scrambled all over her head and nose.  And she just logged away.

I would promise that there will be no other baby crocodile photographs.  But why bother promising?

And, yes, I am stuffing my wallet full of photographs.  Just in case I run into you on my trips -- starting next Saturday.