Rooted & Wandering

Rooted & Wandering — photo stories from nature, animals, travel, and everyday moments. More galleries on https://www.clickasnap.com/profile/RootedAndWandering

[rootedandwandering]

Spring is loud in some places. But sometimes it arrives quietly — in the curl of a petal, in impossible patterns, in flowers that somehow never look the same twice.

Some bloom like soft silk. Others look almost painted by hand. And then there are the wild fields glowing in evening light, reminding us that spring was never meant to be uniform. 🌷

Maybe that’s the beautiful part of it all. Nature doesn’t try to become one thing. It blooms in every shape, texture, shadow and color it can find.

[rootedandwandering]

Flamingos always look like they’re resting on purpose — like stillness is part of their design. Even in a busy place, they manage to create their own quiet corner: soft light, water nearby, and that slow, careful way they move when they do decide to move.

Mini fact: Flamingos often rest standing on one leg. It helps them save body heat and energy, especially when they’re in cooler air or water.

In black and white, they stop being “pink birds” and turn into shapes and balance. Long legs like lines on a page, curved necks like commas, and the whole group feels almost like a small choreography — everyone doing their own thing, but still somehow matching the mood.

Mini fact: Flamingos are very social birds. Even when they look like they’re just standing around, being close to the group is part of how they feel safe.

And then you notice the enclosure details — the hard edges, the tiles, the reflections — and it becomes a different kind of photo. Not just “pretty birds,” but a little reminder of the human-made world around them. Still, the flamingos don’t lose their elegance. They just carry it through whatever background they’re given.

Mini fact: Their famous color comes from their diet (natural pigments in food). Without the right pigments, flamingos can look much paler.

[rootedandwandering]

There’s something about geese that feels like pure confidence. They don’t really “pose” — they arrive. Loud footsteps, serious faces, and that look that says: yes, I noticed you, and yes, I’m still in charge. In black and white they look even more classic, like little guardians of the path.

Mini fact: Geese are very social and protective. When they move as a group, it’s not just “following” — it’s coordination, safety, and a lot of communication.

Roosters always feel like the main character of any small farm corner. Even when they’re not doing anything dramatic, they carry that “I run this place” energy — head high, eyes sharp, always watching. And the textures in BW are perfect here: feathers like patterns, dust like a soft background, and that calm, steady stance.

Mini fact: A rooster’s call isn’t only about mornings — it’s also a way to mark territory and keep the flock aware of what’s happening around them.

And then you get the extra fluffy version — the kind that looks like it’s wearing feather boots and a winter coat at the same time. I love how “domestic” birds can still feel wild in their own way: alert, curious, and completely sure of their routine. It’s a small scene, but it has its own little world inside it.

Mini fact: Some chicken breeds have feathered legs/feet — it’s a trait selected by humans over time, and it gives them that instantly “storybook” look.

[rootedandwandering]

There’s something oddly comforting about the evening sky when it’s full of movement. A whole flock, turning like one living shape, and the sound carries farther than you expect — not pretty, not gentle, just real. People love to call these birds “annoying” or “ugly,” but watching them gather like this feels like witnessing a routine older than cities.

Mini fact: Those big evening gatherings are often about safety and information — birds roost together to reduce risk and to “learn” where food is by following others.

And then there’s the gull — the bird that doesn’t ask for permission. Confident, loud, and completely at home around humans, like the streets and rooftops were built for it. Gulls don’t just survive near people, they own the space. They walk up close, stare you down, and if you have food… they act like it was always meant to be theirs.

Mini fact: Gulls are extremely adaptable and smart. Living near humans teaches them fast patterns: where food appears, when it’s easiest to grab, and how close they can get without consequences.

[rootedandwandering]

Pelicans always look like they’re carrying an old-world calm with them — heavy, patient, and completely unbothered by everything around them. In black and white, that calm turns almost sculptural: bright feathers against darker water and ground, the long beak like a quiet signature, the whole bird feeling more like a character than a moment.

I also can’t help noticing how the lines of the enclosure cut through the scene. It’s a strange contrast: something built for wide skies and open water, framed by straight metal grids. And still, the pelicans don’t look “small” in it — they look steady. Like they’ve decided to keep their dignity no matter what the background is doing.

These are just small fragments from a bigger Riga Zoo / birds story I’ll write later, but for Tumblr I wanted to keep the focus on the mood: stillness, weight, and that soft, prehistoric elegance pelicans somehow have.

[rootedandwandering]

Black and white always makes owls feel even more timeless to me — like they don’t fully belong to this century. Without color, the details get louder: layered feathers, rough wood, tangled branches, soft shadows… and that stare that somehow lands right on you every time. An owl can sit completely still, yet it feels like it’s holding the whole space together — quiet presence, stronger than movement.

That’s what I love about owls and eagle-owls: the contrast. One second they look like forest royalty, the next they’re basically a fluffy little creature wearing a very serious face. And maybe that’s why they stay in your mind for so long. These photos are just a small piece of a bigger story I’ll share later about birds and Riga Zoo — but for Tumblr, I wanted to keep it simple: a mood. A little mysterious, a little calm, and very alive.

[rootedandwandering]

A profile made of feathers and patience. Fun fact: owl feathers have a special soft edge that helps them fly more quietly than many other birds—perfect for hunting without being heard. Fun fact 2: owls have tubular eyes that don’t move much in their sockets—so they rely on head turns to change their view, which is why their stare feels so direct.

[rootedandwandering]

 peafowl close-up—quiet, alert, and full of texture. Fun fact: peafowl crests aren’t just decoration; they can help with visual signaling and are sensitive to movement and vibration.

[rootedandwandering]

Royal pythons always have a different kind of presence — quieter, calmer, but still impossible to ignore. In black and white, their patterns feel softer in some photos and sharper in others, shifting between shadow, texture, and light.

Some moments feel almost gentle, especially in the close details and resting poses. Others feel more dramatic, where dark scales and pale bodies create that strong contrast that monochrome captures so well.

A small collection of royal python moments through my lens. Still, beautiful, and full of quiet character.

[rootedandwandering]

The reticulated python has a presence that feels almost unreal in black and white. Its patterns turn into pure contrast — light against dark, curve against shadow, detail against stillness.

There’s something heavy and quiet about the way it rests, coiled between wood and stone, as if it belongs to the darker corners of the world. In monochrome, the texture of every scale stands out even more, and the whole scene feels calm, ancient, and a little intimidating.

A beautiful kind of silence. Powerful, patterned, and impossible to ignore.

[rootedandwandering]

A small black and white collection of quiet scales, hidden corners, and watchful eyes. Different species, different shapes, different moods — but all of them carry that same still, ancient presence that makes reptiles so fascinating to photograph.

Some curl around branches in silence, some disappear into leaves and forest floor, and some stay half-hidden in shadow as if they belong more to stone and darkness than to light. In monochrome, the textures stand out even more — scales, curves, contrast, and that calm tension that snakes always seem to hold.

A little series of reptile moments through my lens. Quiet, beautiful, and just mysterious enough.

[rootedandwandering]

In black and white, the grass snake feels even more mysterious. The patterns of its scales, the curves of its body, and the play of light and shadow make each photo feel like a small story from another world.

Usually, it blends quietly into its surroundings, but in monochrome the texture, shape, and expression stand out even more. Without color, what remains is mood, contrast, and nature in its rawest form.

Grass snake through my lens — calm, elegant, and just a little bit haunting.