In taking this week’s photo, I had the opportunity to watch up close a willet’s feeding behavior when one opened a mollusk (probably a mussel) and pulled it out of its shell.
It started by moving to a likely area of shallow mud at the edge of a slough. Using its beak to poke repeatedly into the mud, it soon hit the hard shell and pulled the mollusk free. Then, it slipped the tip of its beak into the opening of the shell, and began to pry it open. Once it had a large enough opening, it was able to reach inside and grab the creature, shaking it back and forth through the water, most likely to clean it off, and shake it free of the shell. This process went on for a couple of minutes, the willet slowly extracting more and more of the mollusk from its shell. Finally, it was pulled free and vanished down the bird’s throat. Satisfied, the willet stalked off in search of other prey.
Last week I spent a few days at Salt Point State Park, along the California coast just north of Jenner. The state park encompasses over six miles of shoreline, as well as miles of interior trails through coastal forest. This portion of the coast is one of the most dynamic in the state, made so by acres of sandstone, shaped over time by the strong waves and stronger wind, creating an alien landscape of stone and water.
Although the sky was clear and the sun was out, the temperature never topped 60 degrees. Windy conditions persuaded most people to stay away, entrusting the entire length of coastline to me alone. By early evening, the wind really picked up with gusts between 30 – 40 mph. I had a hard enough time just staying on my feet much less keeping my tripod steady. The wind was only outdone by the strength of the massive waves breaking against the rocky shore.
In the mornings, the wind from the night before had subsided, but the ten to fifteen foot waves were no less fierce.
The variety of the landscape was impressive. I found myself walking through fields of recently bloomed wildflowers, back-dropped by sheer cliffs plunging to an azure ocean. At low tide, pools appeared among newly uncovered rock, offering a glimpse into the lives of the sea dwellers who live there.
The park was home to a variety of wildlife, from song and shore birds to seals, lizards, and an abundance of healthy looking deer. Ultimately it was a brief few days, but a welcome respite from the bustle of the Bay Area. There was much more to see at Salt Point than time allowed, and I know I’ll be going back there in the future.
This pair of stilts had a nest nearby that they were watching over. I couldn’t tell if there were eggs there yet, but they didn’t seem to stray too far. I photographed them on a windless morning (great for reflections due to the glassy still water) about an hour after sunrise.
Whenever possible, I try to position myself in between the sun and the subject I am trying to photograph. While side-lighting can add interest to a landscape, smaller subject matter almost always looks better with direct front light. Sometimes if the physical space around an animal doesn’t permit this positioning I’ll go ahead an take the picture anyway, but those usually go straight to the garbage bin.
A few weeks ago I was at Baylands in Palo Alto, photographing at sunset. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of a white-faced ibis, which I had seen several weeks before, but only briefly. This bird is a rarity in the area, and seldom emerges from the pickleweed, choosing to hide in the wetland vegetation. However, a pair have been spotted in the Palo Alto and Mountain View area more regularly since January of this year, and up to three have been seen intermittently over the last few years. Whether this is a migratory aberration, or more likely a few year-round rogues, it is exciting to see one up close.
This specimen does not follow the normal head plumage that give the white-faced ibis its name, but is an alternate of the same species. Its iridescent bronze-brown feathers glow in the sunlight. I was very lucky on this day to see the ibis out in the open, fishing along a slough just as the sun was setting behind me.
I almost missed it however – as I was packing up my gear for the day, I saw another photographer with a large lens speed-walking toward a slough with open views. I hoped that the thing that had caused this rare burst of speed was the very bird I was looking for. I decided the effort was worth the chance, and unpacked my gear to follow him. I was happily rewarded when I saw the ibis poking through the mud, in gorgeous evening light. I had about five minutes with the bird before it was spooked by passerby’s and flew off for the day.