SPEEDO

First:

This is of course, a composite – what I call a Panoranimal. However, unlike most of my digitally stitched works that are sequential frames of action, this composite was made from three separate dives. Same bird. Same location. Different dives.

Second:

We’re lucky in that we have kingfishers that fish on our pond. So, four summers ago I placed two tall dead branches over a narrow, shallow channel. The location was the perfect distance from my shooting blind for me to capture full frame images of the birds when they perched.

Coincidentally it turned out to be a good fishing spot and I witnessed lots of activity. At first I was happy just to get shots of them sitting on the branches eyeballing their prey below or preening after they returned from a dive. I also got nice shots of them with their catch, repeatedly slapping them against the wood to finish the kill (or soften the bones?). Even got a picture of one flipping it into his mouth with the fish suspended mid air directly above his throat.

But the kings were always too fast for me to capture a complete series of them diving. Consider what is involved: I had to anticipate their start, then follow them darting straight down twelve feet in a second, hitting a different target location every time, while keeping them in focus and in frame – a frame BTW that was barely big enough to accommodate them with their wings fully extended.

I made numerous attempts every summer. I slowly got better. The cameras eventually got faster. Until one weekend while a persistent kingfisher was making repeated unsuccessful dives I captured enough sequences to complete the shot.

At last.

The Frog

THE FROG

SNOW FLURRY

Almost missed the flight.

In the mornings the sandhill cranes and snow geese take off from the ponds and head out to the fields to feed for the day. The sandhills leave individually or in groups of two or three but the snow geese for the most part, leave en masse. So you’ve got multiple opportunities to catch a good shot of the cranes but only one crack at the geese. And the geese give little warning so you have to stay alert.

This was my last day at the refuge. I had an early afternoon flight to catch but I’d allowed enough time for one last morning of take offs. The sandhills began taking off early so I was able to get shots of all of them. The geese however, weren’t cooperating. They seemed content to sit on the pond ice and wait for it to warm up a bit more.

I had to leave. It always takes a few minutes to pack all my gear away to so I keep my camera setup until everything else is packed up and put away.

Still no movement.

I hung out ten more minutes. Then ten more. Finally I had to pack it in. As I reached the truck they began making their tell-tale-take-off noises. I think I broke the record for getting that camera set back up. Captured them just as they took off.

Caught their flight and mine. Was a great trip home.

DIAPHANOUS DESCENT

It was a moment of weakness.

I was never a big fan of intentionally, blurred shots. I had tried a few early on when I began shooting but I didn’t really push the technique and was never all that satisfied with the resulting images.

However, midway through my third trip to Bosque del Apache in New Mexico, I’d just about exhausted every angle, composition, and idea for shooting the cranes and geese. I wanted something different. I was ready for the blur.

If you can pan with the birds and match their flight speed you’ve got a fair chance of getting the head in relatively good focus even when using a slow shutter. At the same time, panning with a slow exposure blurs and streaks the background. In addition, it allows the wings to blur. The resulting images can run the full gamut of totally abstract to hauntingly surreal and all of them convey the sense of motion better than birds frozen in mid-air.

With so many variables it’s a bit of a crapshoot. Some images were way too abstract and I had many fails because I couldn’t get the heads sharp enough. But some like Diaphanous Descent blew me away.

Now, I’m a believer.

AUTUMN WOOD

WINGLIGHT

Dragonflies; probably one of the most beloved of insects. They are beautiful, good sized, friendly enough to land on us, accomplished flyers, do not bite, and they eat mosquitoes. They are approachable, not camera shy, and though there’s no predicting when they’ll land or take off, they do tend to return quite often to the same perch so you can continue shooting.

The technical term for the soft focus effect caused by a lens set to a narrow depth of field (focus) is “bokeh.” The better the lens, the nicer the bokeh. Bokeh is perfect for portraits because it separates the subject from the background and provides a flattering backdrop of blended colors and shapes. For this shot, it created spots from the bubbles on the pond surface and the “winglight” from the reflection of the sun.

LAST STAND

It pays to look around.

I heard there were elk. Then I ran into a ranger and she told me where I might find them. Ran into her later and she actually pointed them out. But they were so far off they were hardly visible.

So like a Pavlov dog every time I drove by that area I always stopped and scouted. Didn’t see a thing all week.

On my last night I headed to my favourite hotspot for sunset-sandhill-crane-fly-ins. I had just set up when something told me to look behind.

Just across the road at the edge of the clearing were my elk. Looked like they were enjoying the sunset as well.

Snow Flurry (long version)

DAWN

STEELY EYED

This fall I opted to do Algonquin park over several weekends rather than an extended stay. I’d leave home on Saturday at 4:00 in the morning to get up in time for first light, spend the night and return home Sunday evening.

I had god luck seeing moose every trip. But by late fall the moose move deeper into the park and after one trip of seeing nothing I called an end to moose hunting season.

… Until it snowed. Then I raced back up hoping to catch one last glimpse of one last moose in first snow.

It started out perfect. The park was covered in a foot of freshly fallen snow and I practically had the whole place to myself. As I drove into the park a bull charged onto the road. Though he disappeared as soon as he saw me stop, it was looking good.

But it wasn’t. I never saw so much as a rabbit track. I tried all my favorite spots, staked out a few places hiding in the snow under camo. Practiced my moose calling. Nothing. I was totally skunked.

Nonetheless it was beautiful and quiet, and I milked the day for every drop of solitude and sunlight.

I headed home in the dark and I was midway through the park when I saw a car up ahead pulled off to the side of the road. Always a good sign, though I wished it had come with some daylight. As I approached I could see the bull behind the tree line – even less light back there.

The other car gave up and left me alone with him. I could see he was a young bull and didn’t mind company. He ambled about feeding, occasionally glancing toward me, but I could barley pull focus and didn’t really have a good shot.

Then he popped his head through the brush, appeared to glare at me, then disappeared into the dark. But not before I was able to focus in on the snow dusting his head

FALL GLANCE

SWAN AT DAWN

PURPLE HAZE

Driving home from work on a rainy spring evening, I came across this scene at a favourite marsh. The rain had drizzled to a stop and the setting sun squeaked through the cloud cover to light up the steamy nesting site of the redwings.

Spring Light

Over, Under, Through.

Happy Mother's Day

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

The Hassle

IMHO, the redwing blackbirds had no right to harass the trumpeters. The swans were just passing by the bird’s nest area on their way to their own nest when the irate parents began dive bombing them and landing on their tails. They never attacked the cygnets and the adults were certainly not in any real danger. It just seemed like a case of blackbird bullying.

BLACK GOLD

Last Light

BRUSH WITH BEAUTY

I saw the shot.

I could barely make out a silhouette, but the moment I spotted it, I slammed the brakes and jumped out with my camera, grabbed the tripod from the back, and raced to the edge of the bank to get as close as possible.

It was early evening in Bosque del Apache, and there was a mule deer with a nice rack feeding on the far side of the channel. I only knew he was there because of the shadow of his form against the tall, backlit grass, that he was nibbling on. But in the minute it took me to get situated and shooting, the shot was gone. Now, he was moving around too much and I couldn’t catch a clear silhouette. I kept working it as he gradually foraged his way through the grass and into clear view; some great moments but not what I saw when I came on the scene.

Then I spotted the doe. She wasn’t even visible before, but now appeared, almost ghost like against the grass curtain of light. As she reached up high to nibble the shoots there was just enough definition to make out the silhouette.

I had it.

DIVE3

A zodiac is the best way to see whales.

We were racing at high speed along the east coast of Newfoundland in a zodiac filled with a dozen people in search of a sperm whale. It was a relatively calm sea but 50 mph makes for a noisy, bumpy, wet, and exhilarating ride.

We'd seen "literally" tons of humpbacks and fin whales over the past few days and gotten lots of tail shots as they propelled themselves into deep dives, but sperm whales were not as common and it was exciting to hear that there was one somewhere in the area. It seemed like our chances were pretty slim, though. It could be anywhere and not just longitude/latitude wise but depth wise. And it could stay down for an hour so we could pass right over it and be none the wiser. Even if it was on the surface, blowing, it was a challenge to spot the spout up against the seemingly ever present fog.

We stopped for a humpback and were about to turn back because of heavy fog ahead when the spotter called it out - “sperm whale three o’clock!”

800 meters out, full speed ahead, the skipper calling out bearing and distance at every blow, ocean spray crashing over us, trying to get there before the dive, the bus shaped/sized head coming into view, it’s back arching downward in the telltale shape of the deep dive just as we arrived, the huge tail lifting up trailing a long, wide curtain of water until it was totally vertical, seeming to pause and then slipping into the waves … then gone.

What a great ride.

FOURmation.

Thousands of sandhill cranes winter at Bosque del Apache from November through February. They spend the nights in long lined formations standing safely away from shore in the middle of three large shallow ponds on the refuge. Every morning as the sun rises over the distant mountains, they walk towards the warmth in small groups until they break into a run, lift off, and then head out to the planted fields to spend the day feeding.

They’ll migrate from field to field over the course of the day, enjoying a mix of grains. Then as dusk approaches they all begin to head back to their select ponds to spend the evening.

I captured these four in the late afternoon. I was standing high on the edge of the field and caught them shortly after take off while they were still relatively close to the ground, which accounts for the eye level view.

BLUEBIRDING

I had never seen a bluebird hover before, but there it was in an extremely high wind, flying in place a couple meters off the ground hunting for food. I had stopped along the edge of a large meadow to shoot a lone bull elk lying in the grass when I noticed the bluebirds. Usually photographing birds mid flight is a challenge, even with auto focus, but this hovering habit made it easy. The real challenge was that I couldn't get any closer and the wind was blowing so hard it was difficult to hold the big lens steady. I ended up hanging my backpack on the tripod for extra ballast and pushed the exposure to shoot as fast as I could in the fading evening light.

As I was editing the bluebird shots, I was frustrated to see how small the images were until I came upon the idea of compositing them into a single image. Not only did it fill frame with added interest, but because all views are from the exact same perspective, it enhances the feeling that this bird was hovering in place.

FRESH PAINT

Lucky us.

In June, on three separate occasions, we were fortunate to witness three painted turtles laying eggs along the bank of the pond. We marked the areas hoping to see them hatch. But even with three nests, it was a long shot that we’d spot the loonie-sized offspring emerge and work their way through the grass to the water.

But the odds were with us. Not only did Terrie notice the tiny ground breaking disturbances of the first and second nests hatching – both birthings happened on weekends when I was home with the camera to capture the moments.

Two out of three – not bad.

INTO THE DARK

Something different and rare.

I wanted to try for a different view of the Sandhill cranes as they flew into the big pond for their evening rest. At the refuge the photographers usually goes to the “flight deck” area on the east edge of the water but I thought I’d setup at a nearby trail where the birds would pass over an opening in the tree canopy.

Well, it didn’t pan out and I was about to leave when I spotted what I assumed was a coyote coming down the trail. Of course when I focused in I realized I was looking at a mountain lion.

Incredible luck. There is always talk about the lions at the refuge but just a few sightings. And here I was, all alone, safe inside my car with the camera all set up, as a big cat slowly headed straight for me.

Turns out I was at one of the few spot in the park where a lion could get access to hunt without having to get wet crossing the surrounding canals. And it was only a hundred yards from the Rio Grande which the cats use as a highway to cover their 100 square mile territory and visit their females.

It was one of those wonderful moments when what you see in the viewfinder gets the adrenaline pumping. To add to that I was nervous – not for my safety, but hoping I had focus and enough exposure for the night light, especially given it was my first few days with a new camera.

Algonquin Family

POUNCIN’ AROUND

Sometimes I learn the hard way.

I was positioned on a hillside, shooting elk in this meadow, when I decided to have a quick look around the bend of the hill. Well, one bend led to another until I found myself about 50 meters away from where I’d left my camera set up – when I spotted what I thought might be a wolf moving through the tall grass.

I raced back, berating myself along the way, and sure enough by the time I returned, what would have been a full frame shot had become much wider and getting more so by the second. It turned out to be a coyote. He was pouncing in and out of view, as he worked his way quickly across the clearing. A few camera clicks later he disappeared into the tree line.

I learned a valuable but what should have been an obvious lesson that morning;

Always take the camera.

Exploded View

It’s the perfect spot.

There’s an area in the corner of the pond where the ducks always hang out. It’s shallow and there are a couple logs they can perch on to preen. It’s also a great place to photograph them because the setting sun slips through the trees and lights them up but doesn’t reach the bank behind them. So their colors and any water splashes are lit up in full glory, and even further enhanced by the stark, dramatic, contrast of the dark shadows of the shoreline.

When the conditions are right and I see them begin to preen, I always turn my attention to that area for the perfect opportunity.

THE GREAT BLUE YONDER

Scootching made this shot possible.

It’s often the case when I wake in the morning that I’ll look out from the bedroom window and see a heron on the pond. And as much as I’d like to go out to shoot I know from multiple past experiences that it’s almost impossible to get out there close enough to get a shot without spooking them.

But occasionally there are two herons, which means there’s a chance that something interesting can happen between them as they jockey around the pond for territorial position. And while they distract each other there’s a chance they might not notice a big guy with a huge lens sneaking towards them.

There wasn’t time to change so I just donned my camo hat and went out in my pajamas. I sat on my butt behind the camera and scootched forward along the wet grass whenever they weren’t looking. It took me a half an hour to work my way down the exposed hillside to the edge of the pond - a distance of a mere 60 feet.

I finally reached the cover of the tall grass along the pond edge and from that vantage caught this sequence of one heron crossing to get away from the other.

Then again, perhaps it was the pajamas.

Chickadee