Snowy Plover With Chicks

A snowy plover sits with its freshly hatched brood of three chicks
A snowy plover sits with its freshly hatched brood of three chicks

Recently I had the opportunity to photograph a new snowy plover family nesting along the Pacific side of the San Francisco peninsula. Snowy plovers nest up and down the coast of the US in open sand. Well-known nesting grounds are often closed to the public during sensitive nesting periods, but this family managed to survive on a public, widely-used beach.

A snowy plover chick explores a seemingly massive clump of seaweed.
A snowy plover chick explores a seemingly massive clump of seaweed.

Capturing this vulnerable family on camera was a delicate operation. I had to be very careful not to get too close or spend too much time in contact with the family, or risk stressing out the mother or the chicks and causing irreparable harm to them. I paid close attention to the mother, looking for signs of stress or protective behavior.

Two snowy plover siblings explore their new world together
Two snowy plover siblings explore their new world together

I had been looking for an opportunity to photograph snowy plover chicks for over two years. At that time I found and photographed a nesting plover, but never was able to make it back for the hatchlings. The first thing I realized when I found these ones were how quickly they moved! They would each run at a full out sprint in opposite directions. I loved watching their antics and they poked around towering driftwood or climbed mountainous piles of foot-tall seaweed – quite an effort for their inch-tall frames.

Soon however, they found their way back to mom, and attempted to squeeze themselves underneath her protective tent of feathers.

Two snowy plover chicks struggle to push into the protective care of their parent, while a third sibling is already occupying this feathered embrace.
Two snowy plover chicks struggle to push into the protective care of their parent, while a third sibling is already occupying this feathered embrace.

Here the mother already has one chick nestled in her feathers, while the remaining two siblings try to push their way in.

I limited my time with them to only 10 minutes, and made sure to keep my distance. I wanted to make sure the little ones were spending their precious energy foraging for food instead of running from a giant with a camera!

A snowy plover stands along the beach with two newly hatched chicks
A snowy plover stands along the beach with two newly hatched chicks

It was great to see life thriving, especially outside of protected areas. It seems at least this one family was able to adapt to their environment and raise three chicks on a busy beach.

Chestnut-backed Chickadee

A chestnut-backed chickadee poses on a small branch whose leaves are beginning to turn colors
A chestnut-backed chickadee poses on a small branch whose leaves are beginning to turn colors

One of my favorite local passerines is the chestnut-backed chickadee. It is common enough to be seen semi-regularly, but just rare enough for those sightings to be special. Here is a photo I took last November, as the leaves were turning color on the trees. I love how the chickadee’s colors compliment the fall colors of nature.

Another reason that I enjoy chickadee sightings is that I always think of them as “bonus” birds. I never set out to specifically find one of these guys (if I did so, I’d probably be searching for days). Usually I’ll go looking for a different target species (be it a shorebird rarity, newly hatched chicks, etc) and only after I successfully (or unsuccessfully) photograph my target do I look around to see who else is present. And that’s when a chickadee might show up.

The biggest challenges in photographing birds like this are their size and speed. They are a relatively small bird. When working with a large lens (as I normally do for birds), that means working at or less than the lens’s minimum focusing distance. That also means that finding your subject at that magnification is like finding a needle in a haystack! And the speed? The only time this bird sits still is when it stops to sing. Otherwise it is flitting from branch to branch – very hard to track with a long lens. Here patience and practice (and some times a little luck) pay off.

Happy Easter

A blacktail jackrabbit munches on short grass in the shade of a tree
A blacktail jackrabbit munches on short grass in the shade of a tree

May you and your loved ones have a joyous and safe Easter. May you be surrounded by peace, laughter and the spirit of renewal.

Chestnut-Backed Chickadee

A chestnut-backed chickadee sings at the top of its lungs while perched on a bush stem
A chestnut-backed chickadee sings at the top of its lungs while perched on a bush stem

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
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
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.

Copyright 2017 Hank Christensen