Blue-winged Teal

A male blue-winged teal is mirrored in the glassy water surface
A male blue-winged teal is mirrored in the glassy water surface. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/400 sec. at f/8

Things have been pretty busy for me lately, with a quick vacation out of the country and running here and there to capture migrant birds as they pass through the area. I did manage to get some photos processed of a late departure – the blue-winged teal. There is a small pond near my house (local birders know it as “Radio Road”) that is one the best places in the Bay Area to view blue-winged teals in the winter. Several pairs are usually present and can often be viewed quite closely.

I saw this male in prime photographing position when I was out running. I find that running is a great way to scout out the miles of shoreline near my house to see where specific birds might be found later in the day. If he would just remain in the same general area for a while longer, I could finish my run and grab my camera.

A male blue-winged teal perches on an underwater rock
A male blue-winged teal perches on an underwater rock. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 500. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/1600 sec. at f/8

When I returned later in the day, he was still sitting in the same spot sleeping. Several other photographers had recognized this great opportunity as well and had set up shop nearby. Now the waiting game began. I needed him to wake up! I got in a comfortable position, sitting on the ground behind the tripod with its legs splayed out so as to get as low as possible. After about 15 minutes, one of the other photographers gave up and left. You can only take so many photos of a sleeping bird!

Finally the teal woke up, preened for a while, and swam around close to shore, feeding on submerged vegetation. The lighting was perfect, with the sun just starting to set behind me. I felt slightly bad for the absent photographer because I know I’ve been that guy before. The more experienced I become, the more I realize that patience is one of the most important virtues of wildlife photography.

White-brested Nuthatch

A white-breasted nuthatch clings upside down to the trunk of a tree as it hunts for insects
A white-breasted nuthatch clings upside down to the trunk of a tree as it hunts for insects. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/1000 sec. at f/8

Usually if I’m out photographing birds and I know I’ll be hiking several miles, I take along my smaller 100-400mm zoom lens instead of the gigantic 800mm. The 800 alone weighs 9 pounds, which feels like 50 after a couple of miles. I broke my rule on the day I captured this nuthatch, because I didn’t want to compromise on this day – I was hiking through Arastradero Preserve in Palo Alto, which is a great place to see a wide variety of birds. I’d been there before with my “hiking” lens, but the whole time I kept thinking in my head, “If only I had my big lens!” This time I was giving myself no excuses.

As I set off into the hills, the weight of the lens, camera, and gimbal head weighed heavily on my shoulders. “It will be worth it,” I kept telling myself. I was hoping to see a coyote, as I had on other occasions. Armed with my big lens, I was excited to see what I could capture. No coyotes that day – in fact, even the bird activity seemed rather low. I stopped for a few shots of acorn woodpeckers, flying from tree to tree and squawking at each other.

As I was watching the woodpeckers, a couple of white-breasted nuthatches landed on the tree closest to me and started foraging up and down the tree trunk looking for insects. Unfortunately, they were very fast, practically running up and down the trunk, and disappearing around the back side just as I’d get one in focus. Were they playing games with me? I watched one snatch a spider from within the tree bark, but he was too high in the branches to make a good photo. Finally, my patience paid off. One the nuthatches came around to my side of the tree, perched upside down, and proceeded to call out. A few clicks later and I knew I had it.

So were the tired legs, sweat, and shoulder pain worth the photos that day? I would say yes, even though I got very few keepers from the day. The legs recovered, the sweat dried, and the shoulder pain faded, but my photos will be there forever.

Snowy Plover and friends

A snowy plover just coming into breeding plumage rests in the sand
A snowy plover just coming into breeding plumage rests in the sand. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/1250 sec. at f/8

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.

A sanderling calls out as it walks along the sand
A sanderling calls out as it walks along the sand. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/2000 sec. at f/8
A lone sanderling sleeps on a smooth beach, framed by a distant ocean
A lone sanderling sleeps on a smooth beach, framed by a distant ocean. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/1600 sec. at f/8
A western sandpiper calls out as it walks along the sand
A western sandpiper calls out as it walks along the sand. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/1000 sec. at f/8
A western sandpiper rests in the sand
A western sandpiper rests in the sand. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +2/3: 1/800 sec. at f/8

Breeding American Avocets

Spring is in the air, and so is the reproductive instinct of many local bird species. I had the opportunity recently to photograph an American avocet pair copulating, and was able to record the interesting mating dance that occurred immediately afterward. Remaining monogamous throughout the breeding season, this pair will soon likely select a local nest site, or migrate north to nest (avocets are both migratory and year-round residents of the SF bay area).

The female avocet signals that she's ready to receive the male by standing with her head close to the water with the beak straight out in front
The female avocet signals that she's ready to receive the male by standing with her head close to the water with the beak straight out in front. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +1: 1/800 sec. at f/8

As they begin, the female signals to the male that she’s ready by standing alert with her head low and forward, close to the water. The male stands next to his mate, or directly behind her.

The male avocet mounts the female from behind. The act of copulation lasts only a few seconds.
The male avocet mounts the female from behind. The act of copulation lasts only a few seconds. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +1: 1/800 sec. at f/8

In one quick motion, the males jumps up onto the female’s back. Breeding only lasts a few seconds, during which time the male flaps his wings repeatedly. Just as quickly, he jumps down again.

Immediately after copulation, the avocets cross beaks. Holding them in this position, they walk in a tight circle two or three times.
Immediately after copulation, the avocets cross beaks. Holding them in this position, they walk in a tight circle two or three times. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +1: 1/640 sec. at f/8

Immediately after copulation, the avocets turn toward each other and cross beaks. Each bill rests against the other’s neck, with the male standing slightly taller than the female. Holding this position, they walk in several tight circles.

Soon after the avocet pair copulates, they promenade side-by-side in a straight line
Soon after the avocet pair copulates, they promenade side-by-side in a straight line. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +1: 1/800 sec. at f/8

Once the circles are completed, they march off together side-by-side. I always find it fascinating to watch these intricate rituals that have developed over thousands of years.

Rising out of the water, an american avocet flaps its wings to dry them off.
Rising out of the water, an american avocet flaps its wings in the air. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering +1/3: 1/1600 sec. at f/7.1

Copyright 2017 Hank Christensen