California Quail

A California quail stands next to a flowering bush, Arastradero Preserve, Palo Alto, CA
A California quail stands next to a flowering bush, Arastradero Preserve, Palo Alto, CA. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 1600. Evaluative metering +1 2/3 EV: 1/160 sec. at f/5.6

The California quail is a very common bird, but one that is difficult to photograph. I usually only see them scampering from underneath one bush to the next, or flushing from a bush with a great commotion (and giving me a heart attack!) if I approach too closely. If there are other people around making any kind of noise, you can forget about any kind of photo. The only shots I have gotten in the past are of a quail streaking off into the forest.

A couple of weeks ago, I lucked upon one poking around for food on the ground out in the open. It was after sunset, and getting dark quickly. I was alone and trying to move quietly, hoping to see some wildlife before they saw me. When I rounded the corner and saw the quail, my heart skipped a beat and I silently lowered my tripod and prepared my camera.

It is then that I made a classic photographer mistake: I failed to recheck all of my camera settings from my previous shots. I had just been shooting a small song bird on a branch, surrounded by bright white sky. This required an exposure compensation of + 1 2/3 stops, in order to prevent the bird from being rendered as a dark silhouette. As soon as I saw the quail, I readjusted all the other important settings (shutter speed, aperture, ISO) but failed to realize I was over exposing. Luckily the magic of shooting in RAW format saved me, and I was able to recover any blown highlights. However, if I had exposed using a lower compensation (probably +1/3 or +2/3 would have worked here), I could have shot faster than the very slow 1/160 seconds that I used here. Thankfully I had locked down the gimbal head and the quail granted me with a brief over-the-shoulder glance, and I was able to come away with a decent shot.

This shot reaffirmed an old lesson – always know your settings. Sometimes if one setting is off, your images may be ruined, and it is not always immediately apparent from the camera’s LCD. I know wildlife photographers who always reset their cameras to a basic setup whenever they are finished photographing a particular subject. This is especially important in situations with varying light conditions. I know I’ll be following that lesson in the future!

Lazuli Bunting

A lazuli bunting perches on a branch in the sun, singing, Arastradero Preserve, Palo Alto, CA
A lazuli bunting perches on a branch in the sun, singing, Arastradero Preserve, Palo Alto, CA. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/2000 sec. at f/7.1

Last week I spent the evening in Arastradero Preserve in Palo Alto in order to photograph Lazuli Buntings as they returned to the Bay Area for the summer. I hiked for a while through grassy hills spotted with oak trees, past wet marshy areas, and through dark oak woodland, still not seeing any of the buntings. I stopped and played their call on my iPhone. From every direction, dozens of voices answered my call. I then realized that I had been surrounded by buntings all day, I just had not recognized their bird song.

It was as though a veil had been lifted, and I started seeing them everywhere. As the sun started to drop to the west, I saw many buntings move to the treetops, hoping to sing out to the world in those last rays of the day.

A lazuli bunting perches on a branch in the sun, Arastradero Preserve, Palo Alto, CA
A lazuli bunting perches on a branch in the sun, Arastradero Preserve, Palo Alto, CA. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/2000 sec. at f/7.1

By the end of the day, I had my target species in the bag, plus a few other surprises.

Great-Horned Owl Siblings

Two great horned owlets sit side by side on a tree branch. Both have yet to fledge and are awaiting food from a parent.
Two great horned owlets sit side by side on a tree branch. Both have yet to fledge and are awaiting food from a parent. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 640. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/400 sec. at f/8

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.

While sitting side-by-side, one owlet begins to groom its sibling. Neither owlets have fledged.
While sitting side-by-side, one owlet begins to groom its sibling. Neither owlets have fledged. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 400. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 1/250 sec. at f/8

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.

A young great-horned owl that has yet to fledge perches on a tree branch, awaiting food from a parent
A young great-horned owl that has yet to fledge perches on a tree branch, awaiting food from a parent. Canon 800mm f/5.6L IS lens with the EOS-7D. ISO 500. Evaluative metering +1/3 EV: 1/400 sec. at f/8

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.

Mono Lake Sunset

Clouds hang over the tufa at sunset, Mono Lake, CA
Clouds hang over the tufa at sunset, Mono Lake, CA. Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 50. Evaluative metering 0 EV: 8 sec. at f/22

After a first evening of disappointing skies at Mono Lake, I went back later in the week on my recent trip to the eastern Sierra. Some clouds were building in the afternoon, and it looked like it would be a decent evening for sunset.

In my mind’s eye, I envisioned still waters, mirrored reflections of tufa, and a lightly clouded sunset sky. The sky was certainly shaping up, but late in the afternoon, the wind picked up and blew away any chance of tufa reflections. Because the wind was blowing the water into small waves hitting the shore, I decided instead to use a longer exposure to translate that lake motion into a quiet mist.

I knew that the tall tufa spires I had previsualized were out – I needed something smaller to use as a foreground to lead the eye into the lake. Whenever using a long exposure to create a water mist effect, I always juxtapose the water against razor sharp, highly detailed subjects. These usually end up being rocks, but in this case, tufa would work just as well. I walked along the shore until I found what I was looking for.

Trying to achieve a longer shutter speed, I added a circular polarizer and lowered my ISO to 50, giving me an 8 second exposure. This was plenty of time to soften the water, giving me the sought after effect. I moved back and forth, forward and backward, working the composition until I was happy with it.

After the sun had set, I walked back along the shore looking for subjects that would work well in twilight. The composition in the photo below caught my eye, and I made a quick photograph on my way back to the car.

A stillness descends on Mono Lake just after sunset
A stillness descends on Mono Lake just after sunset. Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L lens with the EOS-5D MkII. ISO 200. Evaluative metering +1/3: 8 sec. at f/16

On my second visit to Mono Lake, I was much more satisfied with the weather, giving me clouds to add a little texture to the sky. But I had to remain nimble in my thinking to work with and accommodate the wind. Sometimes all the planning and thinking about a place must be thrown out the window, but what you get in return may be unexpected and a great reward.

Copyright 2017 Hank Christensen