Creature From The Deep

A harbor seal pops its head above water as the sun sets behind it, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay
A harbor seal pops its head above water as the sun sets behind it, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay

I often photograph out in Redwood Shores, CA, a town within Redwood City that juts out into the San Francisco Bay. It is a suburb consisting of homes and townhouses built around a network of man-made water channels, offering many backyards direct water access. All that water also attracts a great variety of birds.

A little while ago I was tracking a bird down at the edge of one of the water channels. I was about ten feet below the bay trail, out of sight of any passerbys. As I was looking through my lens, I heard a soft “sploosh” very close to me. I could tell something big had disturbed the water to my left. At first I though that maybe someone was throwing rocks into the channel, but then I realized the sound was too gentle to have been caused by a rock. I looked up and scanned the water, but all I saw were concentric rings emanating from a spot about fifteen feet from shore.

Then, suddenly a large head emerged not far from that spot – big eyes staring into mine.

With eyes and nose just above water, a harbor seal cruises through the still waters of a slough, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay
With eyes and nose just above water, a harbor seal cruises through the still waters of a slough, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay

I was surprised to see a harbor seal pop up and investigate me. We sat there for a while, just looking at each other as the sun set and everything fell silent. He obliged while I swung my camera around to photograph him. Then he submerged and over the next ten or fifteen minutes, he appeared at various distances, each time looking in my direction.

A curious harbor seal emerges from the water enough to watch the shore of a small slough, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay
A curious harbor seal emerges from the water enough to watch the shore of a small slough, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay

Afterward, I learned that he was an off and on regular in this neighborhood. Apparently he got through one or more water control gates that lead out into the bay. Either he is very smart and can return to these channels at will, or he is stuck here, fishing the shallow channels. Whatever the case, he seems to be thriving. I have seen him since on several other occasions (assuming it is the same harbor seal of course). The next time I see a large mysterious shadow passing just below the surface of the water, I’ll know who it is.

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.

Green Heron At Sunset

A green heron stands at the edge of a slough in the setting sun
A green heron stands at the edge of a slough in the setting sun

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
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
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.

Dark-Eyed Junco

A dark-eyed junco searches for food at the edge of a field
A dark-eyed junco searches for food at the edge of a field

I’ve been a bit out of pocket lately, between being sick and being very busy with things other than photography. To make matters worse, one of my camera bodies decided to stop working, so it has been away at the Canon repair facility, right in the middle of prime bird season! However, even though I couldn’t be out shooting, I was able to catch up a little on photo processing.

A dark-eyed junco perches on a short bush, surveying the surrounding area
A dark-eyed junco perches on a short bush, surveying the surrounding area

Late last year I came across a small flock of dark-eyed juncos. Being ground feeders, most were darting through the grass at the edge of a field. Usually I try to get as low to the ground as possible when photographing a bird on the ground, but because this bird was so small, the height of the grass many times obscured the bird. I found that working about 2 feet off the ground gave me a better angle to the juncos, keeping grass out of the foreground.

A dark-eyed junco stands at attention as he searches the ground for food
A dark-eyed junco stands at attention as he searches the ground for food

Dark-eyed juncos are fairly common, but maybe not as easily noticed by the non-birder as other common species. They are typically seen foraging on the ground, so are not in your face as much as a house sparrow or house finch might be.

Copyright 2017 Hank Christensen