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The geysers of Yellowstone National Park welcome the sunrise with steam and shooting water.

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More than 17,000 terns begin their daily routine on an island off the southern elbow of Cape Cod, Massachusetts.

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The sun climbs the sky as a mother moose grazes beneath Maine’s Kidney Pond surface while her playful calf watches from the shore.

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Mist curls along the flanks of the Amazon River headwater. The sun comes slowly as a solitary dugout canoe quietly passes by. On the distant shore, gold miners begin their dredging and panning. The voices of birds lift with the sun – a great throbbing orb shimmering in its own heat. A blue and white swallow pauses on a branch at water’s edge, its breast tinged pink by the dawn. Nearby, we see an exposed clay bank of the river – called a “clay lick” or “colpa” in the local Quechua dialect. Brilliant flashes of green herald the arrival of flocks of parakeets – dusky-headed, cobalt-winged and more. Their calls fill the forest as they alight on tree tops and gather in groups. The flocks take turns, massing on the walls of the lick. Clamouring to eat clay warmed by the sun, they coat their stomachs to survive a rainforest diet of fruit and poisonous seeds. Flitting nervously from dirt to trees, they flash the scarlet or azure of their under-wings. The parakeets are a blur of colour. The forest fills with their calls as they finish their visit to the clay lick. Returning to their higher haunts in the canopy, the day begins.