Recently I found this chestnut-backed chickadee foraging in and around a large ornamental bush growing along a walking path. These chickadees seem to mostly travel alone, and are difficult to photograph because they are small and very fast. Usually they’ll perch on a twig just long enough for me to find it in my viewfinder before it zips off to another location, leaving me with yet another picture of an empty twig.
A chestnut-backed chickadee plucks a small dead leaf from its branch in order to create a better place to perch
True to form, this little guy was jumping from one spot to another, leaving me with nothing but my normal frustration. Suddenly, he lighted on a narrow branch right in front of me. After surveying his spot for a few seconds, he plucked a small dead leaf in order to clear a spot, and launched into a beautiful song. He seemed occupied in his song, and completely unconcerned with my presence, allowing my to click away.
A chestnut-backed chickadee perches on a thin bush stem
After about 30 seconds of singing and a few brief poses on his perch, he was off again. This time he did not hang around, but took off into the air and out of sight.
A little while ago I had the good fortune of finding and photographing a juvenile green heron in the last few minutes of the golden hour of sunset. Green herons are much more difficult to spot than their prolific cousins, the great blue heron, and the great and snowy egret. First of all, there are fewer of them around. Secondly, they usually hide out of sight more often, and they are notoriously difficult to spot against their background. Once I was 15 feet from a green heron, and I kept losing sight of him amongst the rocks – not because he was behind anything, but because he blended in so well.
Crouching down and ready to strike, a juvenile green heron watches the surface of the water for movement
I found this heron more of less out in the open, but only saw it because it landed a mere 40 feet away from me. I slowly crept down to the water’s edge, lowering my tripod carefully as I went. I crept a little closer but did not want to flush this bird. The chances that it would land somewhere else that was as accessible were slight. As I watched it poke around in the mud at the edge of the slough, it started working its way toward me. All I had to do was remain very still and wait.
Eventually it got within about 20 feet, its body now filling my entire frame. By now the sun was just starting to set behind me, bathing the heron in beautiful warm light. As it settled into its now position, it started to watch the water carefully, looking for movement beneath the surface.
A juvenile green heron pulls a small fish out of the still water of a slough
In the last minute of sunlight, its beak snapped into the water and out emerged a tiny fish. A quick gulp and it was gone, along with another successful day of bird photography.
Had I tried to approach this bird, I never would have gotten this close. Only by remaining absolutely still did my presence put the heron at ease. Also, young birds tolerate human presence much more than adult birds. I suppose its because they have not yet learned to fear humans, but whatever the reason, I was happy to take advantage of even a temporary trust.
Most of the bird images I take tend to be portrait-type images. The reason for this is situational – like it or not, birds do a lot of standing around. While these static shots are great for exploring the finer details of a bird’s plumage, they show little of a bird’s behavior. That’s why whenever possible, I try to capture birds in action. Whether it be flying, foraging or fishing, photographs of birds in action can tell a more complete story about that species, as well as show off details that may otherwise be hidden.
Feet extended, a brown pelican skies across the surface of the water as it lands
One of my favorite action shots is the landing. When a bird comes in for a landing, the body tends to be more upright, which allows the underside of the wings to be angled toward the lens. The bird needs to stop both its downward and forward momentum, causing the wings to fan out at their maximum surface area, as shown in the first photo above.
Because the bird’s body is more upright, the landing is almost an action version of a portrait shot. Anthropomorphizing the body position, the bird is almost saying, “Okay, I’m here and ready for my photo op.”
A brown pelican flaps its wings as it lifts off the surface of the water
Conversely, the take-off shot is not usually as photogenic. The body is more parallel to the ground, and on the downstroke, the wings tend to flatten out and their detail is hidden from the camera. Also, the bird is definitely headed somewhere else, which lacks the same connection a viewer might feel with a bird portrait.
A white pelican spreads its wings as it takes off from the water
Sometimes, however, I get lucky with a take-off photo and capture the wings in the full upstroke position, showing wing detail and freezing a pose that happens very quickly. Although I am happy with outcomes like this, I still prefer the landing poses in photographs.
At the end of the day, there are so many bird behaviors to capture, finding those perfect moments is an endless quest. Multiply that by almost 9,700 bird species, and rest assured that the life of a bird photographer never gets dull.
