I photographed these two great-horned owlets this past weekend, as they cuddled up together on a branch. They had not fledged, making them easy to find close to their nest. Both parents were still around (as was a third sibling), performing the duties of food gathering for their new brood. Occasionally, the left most owl would become unsettled, and scoot closer to the other, even though his body was already pressed up tight against its sibling. Just as the owl on the right was drifting off to sleep, here comes his brother (or sister), snuggling up close.
After a few minutes, the alert owl decided that it wasn’t time for sleeping, but for a grooming session. With that, he began to lick the other owl’s feathers, rearranging them just so.
This continued for quite a while, and I eventually left to see what else I could find. When I returned to the owls, it looked as though the sleepy owl had left and found a quieter place to roost, leaving the alert owl to sit and stare at the world.
I was lucky that these young owls had not yet learned to fly. While they’ll still remain dependent on their parents after fledging, they will be much harder to find among the many trees in the area.
When I was in Moss Landing recently, I knew it would be a good opportunity to photograph snowy plovers in the sand, because they nest along the beach at the mouth of the harbor. Snowy plovers nest right in the open sand, which is why their nesting grounds are frequently protected along the California coast. It was still a little too early to see established nest sites, but they should be scoping some out.
After some searching, I found a few of them sitting down in the sand. They were just starting to come into breeding plumage. Not wanting to disturb them, I spend a good ten minutes creeping slowly closer, until I could create frame-filling shots like the one above. My tripod legs were fully splayed out in order to get the lens closer to the ground. I was pretty happy with my position and the fact that I had gotten as close as I needed to without disrupting the birds.
After making some shots, I looked up and saw a surfer emerge from the water a little ways up the beach. I thought he would continue walking toward the road, but then he saw me and starting walking in my direction. Unbelievably, he walked directly toward me fully in my lens’s line of sight. And he didn’t stop until he was standing next to me looking down at my prone form! Needless to see, the birds scattered as he tromped through their would-be nesting area. I was just staring at him (probably with a dropped jaw), incredulous that he would have so little common sense or self awareness.
“Getting some good photographs?” he asked.
“Well, I was,” I relied wryly. As the acclaimed bird photographer Art Morris is fond of saying, you gotta love it!
The scattered plovers were not to be refound, and I had to settle for the photos I already had. However, I spent some more time creeping up on some sanderlings and western sandpipers who were busy poking through shells and seaweed that had been washed up on the beach. These photos can be seen below.
I quick word to the non-photographers out there. If you are in a remote area and see someone concentrating on something with their camera, please please please don’t just walk up to them and interrupt without understanding what they’re photographing. This is especially important with wildlife that you can spook. The photographers of the world thank you.
My photo pick this week is of a pied-billed grebe that I found swimming alone in a narrow channel in a neighborhood near my house. The afternoon light reflected off of the rocks in front of me, which acted as a diffuser, giving me night even light across the scene. Houses along the opposite shore cast the water in a reddish hue.
As always, I tried to get as close to eye level with the bird as possible. However, it was difficult to do so in this spot, requiring me to pick my way over sharp rocks to get close to the water. True eye level was impossible here, as the channel was only about fifteen feet wide, and the immediate shore was too steep to set up my tripod. I made the best of the given situation, unfolding two of the legs so that they were close to flat, with the third tripod leg longer and pointing downhill, almost touching the water. Then I sat down underneath and behind the camera – giving me a comfortable position from which to shoot, while still allowing good hand support for my lens. It also lowered my profile and allowed me to be absolutely still, which will usually allow the target bird to approach closer instead of swimming away (which they often do!)
By remaining perfectly still, I was able to photograph this grebe for a while as it swam back and forth in front of me. The narrow channel kept the wind off the water, creating great reflections.
When I’m out specifically photographing birds, I look for two things – either an uncommon species that I haven’t photographed before, or a great shooting situation with good light and the right aesthetics to create a good photograph. I’ve photographed pied-billed grebes before, but this was a situation I couldn’t pass up because of the nice light, great reflections, and close proximity to the bird.
This winter, Santa Clara Valley was lucky enough to see several groups of evening grosbeaks take up residence is a couple of predictable locations. Word quickly spread throughout the birding and bird photographer communities. This species is not very common for this area, so it was a first time bird for many who found them (including me!) The grosbeaks returned to the same general area day after day for several months, providing everyone with great viewing and photo opportunities.
These photographs were all taken on the same day on the grounds of a technology firm. (Even the technology parks of Silicon Valley have their share of wildlife!) This particular gross (yes, a group of grosbeaks is called a “gross”) had about 20 females and 3 males. They flew between a number of chinese pistache trees within the same area. Between the flurry of activity and the loud noise of nuts cracking in their beaks, they resembled a swarm of locusts, stripping one tree bare and then moving on to the next.
They would do just about anything to get at the tree’s food. It was amazing to watch them hang almost completely upside-down from a branch in order to reach the nuts. Here a female shows her perching skills.
Overall, I spent about an hour following these birds from tree to tree. When I finally left, they seemed just as energetic as when I arrived. It was a treat to see this rarity, especially in such numbers.