An american white pelican stands on one foot on the shore of a lake

There is a large pond near my house that attracts American White Pelicans at various times of year, sometimes in large numbers. I’ve seen as many as 30 pelicans congregated along the shore, preening and snoozing. I came across this solitary pelican late last year. As it was getting close to winter, this pelican didn’t have the typical “horn” that grows from the top of the bill during breeding season.

An american white pelican spreads its wings and shuffles along an island in the middle of a lake

These photos were shot from the shore, with the setting sun behind me. The pelican had set up shop on a small island in the middle of the pond. One of the difficulties I encountered was separating the pelican from all the activity around it. Also on this island were many gulls (one can be seen in each photo), double-crested cormorants, black-necked stilts, and several sandpiper species. Needless to say, it was a pretty crowded place. I managed to get a few portraits that I liked, but frustratingly, some of the pelican’s best poses occurred while an ignorant interloper plodded by in the foreground. Such is nature photography. If I wanted complete control, I’d take up studio portrait photography!

A tree swallow perches on a narrow branch in the sun

When I first got into photographing birds, I would often walk along the bay trails and wonder what these incredibly fast birds zooming around at full speed close to the ground were. They never seemed to slow down, and never seemed to perch. They always had somewhere important to be.

A violet-green swallow perches on barbed wire

I soon learned that these were swallows, and eventually got better views (and photographs) when I did find the odd one perched for a brief few moments. I also learned that there are six swallow species that can be seen through the Bay Area: barn, cliff, tree, violet-green, northern rough-winged, and purple martins. So far I have satisfactory photos of all but the last two.

A cliff swallow hangs from a nest and feeds a hungry chick

The problem with photographing swallows is that they never seem to slow down. They fly far to quickly to photograph in flight (at least it is beyond my skill level) and they even feed in flight. I rarely saw them perch, and when they did so, it was for very short periods of time.

A barn swallow perches on barbed wire

Over time, I was able to find most of my target species while they were resting. Finding an active colony of cliff swallows helped because the parents returned on a regular basis to feed their babies. I’m sure I’ll get opportunities with my last two local swallow species soon, and may even catch sight of a bank swallow migrating through the area.

The sun sets over the Columbia River, just east of Portland, OR

This photo was taken in Corbett, Oregon, from the backyard of some good friends. They live high on a cliff overlooking the mouth of the Columbia River Gorge. This panorama was taken at sunset looking west toward Portland.

I grew up in Corbett, and I always enjoy going back to visit. The town is a kind of jewel, sitting close to Portland, close to Mt. Hood, and surrounded by forest and farmland.

Every time I visit, I try to take some time to explore the area with my camera. I don’t have to wander too far to see first hand why Oregon is hailed for its natural beauty.

Please be sure to click on the image above to see a larger version.

A California black oak stands in a field of wild flowers. In the background an immense granite wall rises from Yosemite Valley.

This summer I spent some time with some old friends backpacking in the Yosemite high country. I love the high country any time of year, but especially in the summer, it offers a cooler respite to the throngs of visitors choking the roads of Yosemite Valley. However, one of my friends had not been to the park since he was a young child, and since we had a little time on our first day, we wanted to drive down in to the valley. I was game, but photographically, I was not expecting much. The valley was hot, had bad lighting midday, and several controlled burns were blowing smoke up the Merced, coating everything in a brown haze.

As we drove down into the valley, seeing all the tourists got me to thinking about originality and photographic vision. Here were millions of people getting out of their cars and taking essentially the same photo as the person they were standing shoulder-to-shoulder with. I started to formulate a challenge in my mind – search for a photograph that captures some of the essence of Yosemite Valley, but keep it fresh and unexpected. I didn’t know if I could come away with something I was proud of, having been through the same area with my camera so many times before.

Luckily the natural world is ever changing and constantly brings new surprises at every bend. The first thing I noticed were all of the wildflowers blooming in the fields on the valley floor. The yellowing grass of late summer was punctuated by brighter yellow blooms, spattered throughout the fields with chaotic perfection. Suddenly three elements came together, and I knew I had the shot I was looking for. A California black oak stood apart from its neighbors, surrounded by intense wild flowers. Behind the tree rose an immense sheer wall of granite, juxtaposing the flowers with cool blues and grays. Here was the essential Yosemite Valley, captured in a way I had never done before.

I couldn’t help but have a smile on my face as I strolled back to the car – a great start to a great trip.

A snowy egret grows long bushy feathers and has a bright red skin around the base of the beak in breeding season

Looking back through my archives, I came across these photos of a snowy egret in full breeding plumage. Because there are so many of these birds around my home, I often overlook them (everything ends up looking like a crow after awhile). But these photos stood out as they were taken at the height of breeding season, and this bird in particular had magnificent breeding colors.

A snowy egret grows long bushy feathers and has a bright red skin around the base of the beak in breeding season

As snowy egrets enter breeding season, their feathers become long and shaggy. When the they display, they can create a great fan of feathers with which to show off. In addition, a hormone in the body changes the pigment of their skin around the eye to a bright red.

Seeing these photos reminded me that birds are a living and breathing part of the natural world around us. Like much of nature, they change colors and shapes as the seasons change, and are constantly adapting to their environment.

These images can be created with any regular digital camera. The images are stitched together in post processing to create large, wide angle views. All of the photos presented here are in the 40 to 100 megapixel range, which means they can be printed very large (at least 30×90 inches). For better appreciation for the detail captured in these photos, please be sure to click on the image to see a larger view.

The sun lights stormy clouds as sets behind the eastern Sierra range, north of Bishop. Canon 70-200mm f/4L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 640. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/400 sec. at f/8. Composed of 7 stitched photos, handheld.

The sun rises over Hot Creek, as the Sierra Nevada looms in the distance. Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 100. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 3.2 sec. at f/16. Composed of 4 stitched photos.

The wall of the eastern Sierra rises over ten thousand feet above the Alabama Hills at dawn. Canon 70-200mm f/4L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 200. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/4 sec. at f/16. Composed of 7 vertical stitched photos.

An ancient bristlecone pine crouches on a snowy slope, greeting morning's first rays of light, Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. Canon 70-200mm f/4L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 200. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/6 sec. at f/7.1. Composed of 7 stitched photos.

The setting sun casts a red glow in an ancient bristlecone pine, Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 100. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/8 sec. at f/14.

On my trip to the Owens Valley last month, I spent a night up in the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest with some friends. This forest runs across the ridge of the White Mountains in Inyo National Forest. It is an inhospitable environment, with a barren landscape, freezing weather, and frequent gale-force winds blasting across exposed rock. It is also one of my favorite places on earth.

This was the first time that I was in that area for both sunset and the following sunrise. A few small clouds moved in at sunset (above), providing some texture to the sky.

At sunrise, I had unobstructed views of the sun rising over the eastern horizon, across the Nevada desert. Similar to the intense alpenglow of the eastern Sierra peaks, at this elevation the trees turn an unworldly red glow at dawn. From a distance, these bare, twisted branches can transform into the wild licking flames of a campfire.

A twisted bristlecone pine glows orange in the intense rising sun, Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. Canon 17-40mm f/4L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 200. Evaluative metering 2/3 EV: 2 sec. at f/16.

The early tree-glow gave way to direct sun on the bark. This was prime time to capture the morning light, and the race was on to photograph as much as possible before it faded. Of course, working along a steep slope at 11,500 in deep snow is not easy! Soon I was panting for breath and my heart was racing out of my chest. In these types of environments, it is better to pick a spot with several morning light opportunities and stay there.

A twisted bristlecone pine reflects the warm glow of the rising sun, Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 200. Evaluative metering 1/3 EV: 1/10 sec. at f/16.

A bristlecone stump clings to the side of a snowy slope, where it has sat for thousands of years. Canon 17-40mm f/4L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 200. Evaluative metering 2/3 EV: 1/5 sec. at f/16.

An hour later, the sun had risen above the horizon, and the trees went back to their natural brown-tan color.

A gnarled bristlecone pine grows out of a rocky slope high in the White Mountains. Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 100. Evaluative metering 1/3 EV: 1/60 sec. at f/16.

Photographing these trees in the right way is not an easy task. I learned this the hard way when I first visited the forest. Having seen many amazing photographs from Galen Rowell and David Meunch taken in this area, I was expecting a lot. But I came away with less than desirable photographs, and a deeper appreciation for the difficulty in photographing these trees well. The key is to take it slow and spend some time with the trees. Not to get too metaphysical, but it helps to sit with a tree, and listen. Each time I go back, I feel as though I understand the trees a little better, and my photos improve just a little more. Some day, I may just do them justice.

Moments before the sun rises, Hot Creek reflects the cool glow of snow covered peaks. Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 200. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 30 sec. at f/16.

One of my first sunrise shoots on my recent trip to the eastern Sierra was at Hot Creek. I wanted to catch some snow from the recent snow storm before it melted out of the mountains, and I knew this spot would work well with longer lenses to help emphasize the mountains.

The first shot was taken a half hour before sunrise. The scene was just starting to light up, but still maintained some of the cooler hues of night. Although there were no clouds to work with, there was some slight haze above the mountains, which reflected some of the deep purple of pre-dawn.

One of my biggest challenges in these early morning shoots is staying warm as I patiently wait behind my tripod for the light to change. For this location, the main foreground attraction was really the flowing creek, so I didn’t move around a lot. If you had been there that morning, you would have seen what looked like a crazy person jumping up and down and blowing on his hands to keep warm (yes, I forgot my gloves that morning).

Grass adorns the banks of Hot Creek as sun touches the mountains to the east. Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 100. Evaluative metering -1 EV: .3 sec. at f/16.

After the sun rose and I felt I captured that part of the creek in the best light of the morning, I explored with the camera a little trying out different foregrounds and lens lengths. I’m a sucker for near/far verticals, and that’s what my eye gravitated toward when I saw this long grass growing along the bank of the creek.

Soon enough the photo shoot was over, as the morning light faded and fishermen began to show up along the length of the creek.

Dramatic clouds build over the peaks of the Evolution Basin of King's Canyon National Park. Canon 70-200mm f/4L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 800. Evaluative metering 2/3 EV: 1/160 sec. at f/8.

Earlier this month I made a trip to Bishop, CA and the surrounding areas to see what the autumn colors had to offer this year. I knew it would be unpredictable, given the huge snowfall of the previous winter, combined with this year’s short summer. The weather played one final card as an early snow storm moved in right before my trip, dumping snow in the mountains. Unfortunately, this snow killed off the trademark fall color of the eastern Sierra, turning those golden Aspen leaves to brown and black. However, I was treated to a pristine white mountain backdrop, at least for a few days.

The sun plays dramatically across storm clouds as it sets behind the eastern Sierra range. Canon 70-200mm f/4L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 800. Evaluative metering 1/3 EV: 1/200 sec. at f/8.

When I got into town, I met up with photographer friend Dan Canfield, and set out to the Chalk Bluffs north of Bishop for the first sunset of the trip. As dusk approached, it looked like the sunset would be a dud. One small wispy cloud mocked our photographic anticipation.

However, as the sun crept toward the eastern mountains, dramatic clouds began building up and materializing above the horizon. Once the sun set behind the range, we were treated to twenty minutes of pure (and frantic) delight. The colors played across the ever-changing clouds, which congealed and dissipated with casual acquaintance. Soon it was all over, as the sun slipped away yet again.

These moments always pass too quickly, but that’s part of what makes them so special. I felt blessed to witness such a powerful display of natural forces in one of our earth’s special places. Stay tuned for much more from this trip – I’m processing the photos as quickly as time allows!

An american goldfinch clings to the narrow branch of a cherry tree. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering -2/3 EV: 1/2000 sec. at f/8.

This week’s photo involved nothing more than setting up my camera and walking out my front door. The cherry tree in my front yard is a welcome perch for birds flying in to survey the feeding station. However, they usually only stay still for a brief few seconds before moving to the bird feeders. Here, patience and a quick trigger finger save the day.

When I’m photographing birds in the front yard with my long lens, I always use an extension tube to decrease the minimum focus distance of the lens. Otherwise, even standing all the way across the yard, I’m too close and can’t get a focus lock on anything in the yard. This closer distance allows small birds to fill the frame, but makes photographing large birds impossible, unless I’m just going for a head shot or head and shoulders portrait (and how many mourning dove portraits do you really need?)