I took this photograph in February, but just now had a chance to process it and get it up on my site. With the spring migration ending, and way too much snow still in the high Sierra, I’ve been biding my time photographically by culling through some older shots that I was too busy to attend to when I took them.
This photo features one of several white-faced ibises that make an annual appearance at Palo Alto Baylands every winter. Seemingly out of place in the Bay Area, there are always at least one or two that stop by for a couple of weeks. Usually, they hang out far into the marshes, but occasionally they come closer within camera distance. Then it becomes a game of patience.
I was watching this ibis for about an hour and a half as the sun was creeping toward the horizon behind me. With each passing minute, the light got sweeter, but my opportunity for getting a shot that stood out was vanishing. Then, just before the light started to fade, he made a quick thrust into the shallow water, and up came a small fish. He seemed quite proud of himself, and actually strutted around a bit with the fish before consuming it. All the while my shutter clicked away. This was my favorite photo from the day – a proud ibis with his fresh catch.
Last month I visited a marsh near my home where American Avocets and Black-necked Stilts nest every year. Both species had been in the area for about a month, pairing up, mating, and preparing the site for nesting. Closely related, these two species often nest in the the area, sometimes laying eggs in the nests of the other species, leaving another parent to raise their young. When I got there, the avocets were either still building nests, or sitting on eggs. One or two lookouts were constantly scanning the skies for predators, turning their necks 90 degrees in order to focus an eye upward.
An american avocet continually watches the skies above its nesting area, looking for would-be predators. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/1600 sec. at f/8.
The stilts were even more wary, as some of them had freshly hatched chicks. The most common threats were gulls, as they dive-bombed the nesting site. Occasionally a northern harrier would fly overhead, sending the stilts into a panic.
A black-necked stilt watches the skies above its nesting area, looking for gulls and raptors. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/3200 sec. at f/5.6.
One stilt had three precocious young who were anxious to explore their new surroundings. It was a fairly constant effort to corral them together, and try to keep an eye on three little ones at once.
A black-necked stilt watches over its freshly-hatched chicks. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/1250 sec. at f/9.
The chicks were just getting old enough to venture away from the nest to practice feeding on their own. Their unsteady clumsy legs sometimes pitched them sideways into the shallow mud. They would stray from the nest for only a few minutes, at which point they’d turn around and head back, perhaps out of some primal instinct to stay close to a parent.
Two black-necked stilt checks explore the shallow water near their nest. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/640 sec. at f/8.
As the sun set, the stilt settled down into the shallow scraping of a nest it had created at the edge of the pickleweed. One by one, each chick would press its way into the feathers of its parent, so it could nest in relative safety.
A day's end, a black-necked stilt cuddles its chick, inviting it to nest within its feathers. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/500 sec. at f/11.
Two great blue heron siblings huddle together as a strong wind blows across their nest. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/400 sec. at f/8
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.
Three hungry great blue heron chicks eagerly await the return of a parent with food. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 500. Evaluative metering +1/3 EV: 1/2500 sec. at f/6.3
About ten minutes after ariving on site, we were rewarded with a parent’s return to feed its chicks. That was when the aggressive battle began.
An adult great blue heron returns to the nest to feed its hungry chicks. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 500. Evaluative metering +1/3 EV: 1/2000 sec. at f/6.3
As the parent was trying to regurgitate its meal for the hungry chicks, they took turns squawking in its face, demanding food.
Hungry great blue heron chicks surround the parent, begging to be fed. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 500. Evaluative metering +1/3 EV: 1/2500 sec. at f/6.3
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”.
A great blue heron chick aggressively bites at the parents beak and neck, waiting to be fed. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 500. Evaluative metering +1/3 EV: 1/2000 sec. at f/7.1
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.
A lazuli bunting perches on a branch in the sun, singing, Arastradero Preserve, Palo Alto, CA. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/2000 sec. at f/7.1
Last week I spent the evening in Arastradero Preserve in Palo Alto in order to photograph Lazuli Buntings as they returned to the Bay Area for the summer. I hiked for a while through grassy hills spotted with oak trees, past wet marshy areas, and through dark oak woodland, still not seeing any of the buntings. I stopped and played their call on my iPhone. From every direction, dozens of voices answered my call. I then realized that I had been surrounded by buntings all day, I just had not recognized their bird song.
It was as though a veil had been lifted, and I started seeing them everywhere. As the sun started to drop to the west, I saw many buntings move to the treetops, hoping to sing out to the world in those last rays of the day.
A lazuli bunting perches on a branch in the sun, Arastradero Preserve, Palo Alto, CA. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/2000 sec. at f/7.1
