Recently I joined two photographer friends in photographing two large great blue heron nests. One nest (above) held two relatively young chicks, while the other housed three siblings who were almost ready to fledge. In the smaller nest, the two chicks waited and waited, but I never witnessed a parent return with food. The other nest, however, was a different story.
When it took a while for the food to come up, the chicks got more aggressive. One would grab the parent around the beak, and yank its head down into the nest. When this didn’t work, one of the chicks bit around the parent’s neck and yanked at the throat. I was shocked to see such a display, but figured this kind of behavior fostered some of the competition amongst the siblings that would serve them out in the “real world”.
After the parent finally dumped the food at the bottom of the nest, it took off, presumably to continue to feed these young insatiable appetites. The youngsters continued to battle each other over the remnants until it was gone. The next time you see one of these seemingly docile creatures standing at the edge of a marsh, remember that they are also predators, trying to eke their own way through the world.
Shell Beach is a small strip of broken shells at the eastern end of Foster City, California. It is a popular spot for shorebirds year round, and a nice stop over for migrants. I went there at dawn recently to check it out, and see who was around. The tide was out, so there was plenty of freshly exposed mud for the birds to poke around in looking for food. Several marbled godwits controlled the scene, keeping some of the smaller birds away from the prime real estate.
Quite a few black-bellied plover were present, still in their winter plumage. They stood at the very edge of the bay, soaking in the warming rays of the rising sun.
A willet roamed further from the water, preferring the broken shells that give the beach its name. It obliged me with a brief look back over its shoulder, giving me a quick opportunity for a portrait. Then it disappeared into some tall grass and out of sight for the morning.
Turning back to the beach, I saw a distant speck making its way toward me. I couldn’t distinguish what it was from that distance, but I knew it was different from any other bird currently around me. Since it was headed my direction, I hunkered down and waited, knowing that it is always better to let birds approach you, rather than risk spooking them. Eventually the speck materialized into a ruddy turnstone, pecking at the mud. It was soon joined by several others, who all continued past me and off into the rising sun.
Overall it was a pretty quiet morning at the edge of the bay. But an excellent way to welcome the morning.
Recently I spent a morning photographing the sea life in Moss Landing, California. The harbor at Moss Landing boasts a great variety of sea birds and mammals, and is favorite spot for many sea otters. I woke early and arrived at the harbor at dawn, hoping to catch some of the wildlife in early morning light. Most of the usual suspects were there, including the common loon.
Also seen cruising around the harbor, occasionally diving for food were several surf scoters. A male, resplendent with his colorful beak came close, probably to see if I was one of those fishermen who might have some bait to spare.
And then of course, there were the sea otters, probably the most popular attraction at the harbor. I saw about twenty to thirty of them all floating together, either diving and eating, playfully wresting each other in the water, or just floating on their backs, taking a bit of a nap. One otter in particular had an entertaining way of grooming himself. First, he would lick one paw while rubbing the back of his head with his other paw. Then he’d switch paws, slowly cleaning the back and sides of his head.
After repeating this behavior for several minutes, it was time for the face massage. Opening his mouth, he’d lightly rub his cheeks in small circles. After a while, he really got into what he was doing, opening and closing his mouth and sticking out his tongue occasionally. Abruptly he stopped, and went back to licking his paws and cleaning his head.
Sea lions and harbor seals were also in attendance at the harbor. Most of the sea lions were crowded on a pier waiting for fishing boats to return and share their left-overs. Unfortunately, the time of day did not cooperate with the only angle of approach I had, and all of my photos were severely back lit. The harbor seals however were busy traveling to and fro, so I had better opportunities with them.
As the morning stretched on, more tourists arrived and the harbor started to get crowded. I was happy to have woken early and arrived at dawn, giving me plenty of time in relative solitude with the animals. Pretty soon it was time to leave. The sun was high overhead, most of the wildlife had scattered, and the otters had settled in for a nice long lazy day in the waves.
The photo this week features the greater yellowlegs. They are somewhat common in the Bay area throughout the winter, usually seen in ones or twos. On this day, I came across two yellowlegs foraging with a willet in a shallow, narrow slough. It was late afternoon and the sun was just starting to reach the horizon, so I knew I didn’t have much light left in which to shoot. Unfortunately, all three were in the deep shadow of the high bank of the slough, so I wasn’t getting that sweet sunset light that I was after.
Just then a runner appeared on the trail paralleling the slough, and decided to stop and watch these birds. Once he stopped, all three flushed and flew a hundred yards north to a spot where the bank lowered and the slough opened up. Lucky me! For once, I benefited from someone chasing away the birds I was photographing. I quickly (and much more carefully than the runner) repositioned myself to their new location, very happy to see that all three birds were now bathed in golden light. I had less than a minute of these lighting conditions before the sun finally dipped below the mountains.