A ring-necked pheasant stands tall among dried grass
Last week, I went to Byxbee Park (part of Palo Alto Baylands) looking for some of the wintering water foul. I saw plenty, but also came across three ring-necked pheasants, all in different areas of the park. I had seen them several times here before, but never three in one day! Usually they hang to the thick bushes, but occasionally they come out into the open to forage. The beautiful colors make this a stunning bird to watch.
I have quite a few full body shots, but I liked the portrait the best. I’ve included a couple other shots below.
A ring-necked pheasant stalks close to the groundA ring-necked pheasant walks through short grasses, with a wary eye for predators
Water cascades down the south fork of Bishop Creek, Inyo National Forest, CA
This week’s photo was a tough choice for me. I couldn’t decide if I liked the photo above, or the photo below better. I shot the first photo as I came upon the scene, exploring the best angles from which to capture this waterfall. I loved how the roots of the bush on the left seemed to break the granite into small slabs, so I moved in close to simplify the scene, resulting in the second photo.
A root system grows from broken granite, Bishop Creek, Inyo National Forest, CA
After much deliberation, I chose the first photo as my favorite for several reasons. Firstly, it is more of a layered photo, with several foreground elements stacking up to lead the eye easily to the upper waterfall. Secondly, it accentuates the fall colors a little more than the second photo. There are more trees included in the background, and since it was shot from a higher vantage point, there are more fall colors reflected in the pool between the upper and lower waterfalls. The second photo holds more tension because the root system really makes the eye travel around it and up the creek. Either way, I like them both.
As with any art, there is no “right” answer in photography (although there can be many wrong answers!)
An ancient bristlecone pine reflects the last rays of daylight, White Mountains, CA
On my recent trip to the eastern Sierra to photograph the fall colors, I visited the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest in the White Mountains, part of the Inyo National Forest. I had done some reading about the area from books such as David Muench’s classic Timberline Ancients (out of print), and several of Galen Rowell’s insightful essays from Vision and Inner Game of Outdoor Photography. But actually being there and walking among these trees was a spiritual experience, and one I will not soon forget.
We were blessed with a recent snow storm that blanketed the crest of the White Mountains – not enough to close the road, and just enough to provide a clean contrast to the rough, twisted texture of the bristlecone. We were working an exposed western-facing slope, and after taking a few establishing shots, I climbed to the top of the hill. I quickly remembered that I was at 11,500 feet in elevation, as I was out of breath after only a few steps! My goal in the photo above was to capture the vibrant colors of sunset reflected in the wood of the bristlecone, while also getting the colors in the opposite horizon, as well as the earth shadow as it crept across the eastern foothills and Nevada desert beyond. The warm pastels in the wood are continued in the sunset colors of the sky above.
All lengths of lens work here, depending on your personal style and vision – whether it is to shoot a distant mountain top grove with a telephoto, or to crawl up inside the gnarled spiral of a branch with a fish-eye. The challenge in shooting these trees is to try to decide what to include and what to leave out of the frame. One question I kept coming back to that helped me to focus was, “What is the main point of this photo?” If my answer was “the texture of this branch,” then why include the roots of the tree? If my answer was “to show the desolate environment in which these trees live,” then I knew to shoot wide and and treat an entire group of trees as the main subject.
Below are a few more photos I took while exploring the bristlecone forest.
A bristlecone log frames an upright tree, both of which have lived for thousands of years, White Mountains, CAA bristlecone pine grows from a desolate, snowy mountainside, White Mountains, CAFresh snows blankets the slopes of the White Mountains, framing the ancient bristlecone pines that live there
A crescent moon glows in the warm colors of sunset as it sets behind the crest of the Sierra.
This week’s shot was taken a few weeks ago from high atop the crest of the White Mountains, at about 11,500 feet elevation. The moon was setting about half an hour behind the sun, providing an opportunity for a nice crescent moon, lit up by the dramatic colors of sunset. My particular location allowed me to anchor the photo with the silhouetted crest of the eastern Sierra, giving the image weight and a sense of scale and perspective.
On the technical side, in order to achieve this photo, I had to pull out all the stops. In order to keep the shutter speed down, I bumped up my ISO to 200 (I try to shoot most of my landscape work at 100). I didn’t want to go any higher, so I could keep the dark, rich tones of the sunset relatively noise free. I used my 100-400L lens at 310mm, and locked it down onto my tripod. I also made sure to turn off the image stabilizer, because if it kicked in here, it would most likely lead to a blurrier photo than I’d get without it. Finally, I locked up the mirror and set the camera to a 2 second self-timer mode. Unlike Nikon, with the 2 second self-timer, Canon cameras will lock the mirror when you press the shutter release, wait two seconds, and then trip the shutter. This allows the camera itself 2 seconds to settle down after being rattled by the vibration of the mirror slap. Normally, none of this matters, but at this magnification along with the 1.3 second shutter speed I used, even small vibrations will degrade the photo. I framed my shot, held my breath, and pressed the shutter release. Two seconds later I had the photo I wanted.
