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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I’ve been busy with summer activities, and haven’t had time to process new photos lately. So I thought I’d share one from my archives that I like. Sometimes a very simple portrait composition can work well, especially if the bird has interesting features.
This curlew was standing as still as a statue is calm water. It was a good thing he was still, because the morning was a bit dark – the sun was just starting to rise behind some thick clouds, creating a gloomy morning atmosphere. On darker days, I have to bump up the ISO slightly in order to hold a reasonable shutter speed. In this case 1/320 seconds was fast enough to capture this immobile curlew. If he’d been feeding, it would have been much harder to capture his movements without blurring the photo.
My favorite feature of this photo is that the water was so still that it fades into a solid color abstract, both behind the bird, and around the bird’s reflection. This has the same effect as using a solid color backdrop for a studio portrait – it isolates the subject and removes all extraneous elements from the image. When I see a subject I want to photograph out in nature (be it a bird, sunset, tree or rock), I am constantly thinking about how I can simplify the image. After the initial excitement of a new shot passes, I step back and think, “What is this image all about?” Once I identify the aspects that drew my to that rock or that tree in the first place, I set about trying to remove any elements that don’t support the story I’m trying to tell in the image.
Sometimes, working an area can be difficult and frustrating – after all, nature is never a sterile, controlled environment. Sometimes however, as in the image above, a simplified image is given to me as a gift. I’m never one to complain about those images that come easily!
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.