Visibly different, part 8

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis on dried palm leaves in Florida
Our opening entry for the day comes from 1999, someplace in Florida – I can’t remember the exact location, but I think it was the JN “Ding” Darling National Wildlife Refuge on Sanibel Island. I still lived in North Carolina then (the first time around) and was seeing almost no lizards of any kind locally, so I took the opportunities that presented themselves while doing a photo tour of Florida. And when it comes to lizards, the opportunities do present themselves (for best effect, read that in a southern woman’s drawl.) This Carolina anole (Anolis carolinensis) was known as a green anole back then, and wasn’t trying its best to blend into the foliage, so I shot a little wide to make more of a scene from it. I could have been closer, but it was already aware of my presence and very quickly scampered for better cover. Still, this is quite possibly the first images of a Carolina anole in my stock, and it took years before I was even seeing one in NC.

Now we jump forward to 2021.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis being cooperative
Not just in NC now, but right here at Walkabout Estates, in fact right alongside the front steps in a potted plant. I’d been delighted the year before to see one here, because I’d been hoping to get them established, and last year demonstrated that they certainly seemed to be. This is full frame, like the one above it, so you know no matter what lens I was using, I was close.

The notable differences between these two occasions? Not a lot, really: better stalking ability, certainly, but I can’t even credit the latter image to paying more attention to the sounds around me, because I believe the former image was obtained by hearing the anole, while the latter hadn’t moved a muscle even as I was sitting next to it. Mostly, I can credit this to the passage of time and the opportunities that can accumulate through that, with a slight nod towards the wonderful performance of the Mamiya 80mm macro lens, my workhorse for images of this nature now.

Last year was excellent for anole images, such as this outing, but my favorite remains the one below, once again at Walkabout Estates, though three times as far from the front door (meaning five meters) as the previous. This is indeed cropped tighter, but the anole was tiny, a newborn last year, and frequented the front garden – in this case it was snoozing on a rose leaf. I was delighted, as you might imagine.

close crop of Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis covered in dew

You’re a slacker, McFly

That’s not how the line actually goes, but it services anyway. I’ve had these photos, and this subject, for nearly two weeks now, with nary a post in there, and just didn’t do a damn thing with them. Nor did Doc Brown show up to save me.

Now, there is a little backstory, but let’s start at the beginning. I went down to Jordan Lake while the temperature was nice just to see what I could find, and I was pleased to spot a bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) cruising along in the stiff wind. Only I was still using manual focus from other tests, and hadn’t gotten it quite pinned down for those shots.

adult bald eagle Haliaeetus leucocephalus peering down at water
This is cropped tighter, so the original was much smaller in the frame – I’m not that bad at focusing. In case you’re wondering why it looks a little odd, the eagle has its head cocked to the right, either peering down at the waters below for fish, or wondering about the moon above – I can’t say for sure which.

But what this fostered was whether or not there was a focusing screen with better resolution, or indeed if the focusing screen in the Canon 7D was even interchangeable. So I started a little research, and determined that it was, and that someone even made a split-image microprism screen for it. I figured I’d try that out.

Split-image screens are the old method of precise focus, back before autofocus was even a thing, and I’d used them constantly on my Olympus bodies. When seen through the viewfinder eyepiece, in the center is a circle with a line through it, which are actually tiny lenses angled against one another, so lines that cut across the split circle would actually be offset if out of focus, and only line up properly when they were fully focused. Outside of that sits a microprism ring, which renders out-of-focus subjects into larger dots. Between the two, you can usually pin down precise focus.

As I determined once it arrived and I did another test run down to the lake, however, was that this was as bad as I remembered it. Using glasses as I do, it means that my eye sits a little further from the viewfinder than without, and also has a narrower ‘sweet spot.’ Split-image screens do not work well with what’s called a ‘high eyepoint,’ and having my eye even a little out of dead center meant one half of the split-image simply went black – I couldn’t even maintain this if I concentrated, because following a subject with the long lens was enough to shift the camera/eye combo out of alignment far enough. I quickly replaced the old focusing screen.

[Two quick notes in here, because the questions are kind of raised above. First, autofocus is not in the least affected by the focus screen, since it takes place through the reflex mirror, at least for DSLR cameras, and additionally, any viewfinder confirmation lights come through the mirror as well; changing the screen introduces no problems with these. Second, changing the focusing screen naturally varies from camera to camera, but for every example that I’ve found so far, it’s a trivial operation, taking a couple of minutes at best with simple tools. Always check for your particular camera first, but don’t be daunted by the idea of opening up the camera – it’s typically very simple.]

great blue heron Ardea herodias on dock
Nonetheless, autofocus was still performing as it had – which is to say, reasonably accurate, but still fooled on occasion (and in the case here, while I had exposure compensation dialed in for the bright lake surface, it should have been even higher.) I still have a couple of options for adjusting AF with the Tamron 150-600 lens – one in the camera, and one (at least) in the lens itself, performed with a little doodad called the Tap-In, which I possess but have not used yet. The idea was to hash out the various options that I had and come back to post the changes and results, but I haven’t done that yet. Partly because the temperatures dropped again and I simply didn’t feel like going out – that sounds wussy I know, and probably is, but my sinuses don’t cope with cold dry air too well and it feels like getting stabbed in the face, so I avoid this unless I’m really dedicated.

red-headed woodpecker Melanerpes erythrocephalus on trunk
But there’s also the bare fact that, no matter what I do, there may be only minimal improvement, and this illustrates why. Most of my subjects occur at significant distances against cluttered backgrounds, and autofocus modes aren’t too specific. I’m usually using Canon’s ‘AI Servo’ mode, which is best to track moving subjects, but it also gets fooled by not holding the focus indicators bang-on with smaller subjects, very easy to do with the weight of the long lens – I simply twitch too much. If I shift even a hair away from perfectly centered in the focus point, the lens can try to ‘track’ the background clutter instead, and if this occurs when I’m trying to snag specific behaviors (like a diving osprey,) the AF can be off at the crucial moments – very annoying. And this says nothing about wanting to compose an image by not having the subject dead-center in the frame, so the key focus point – which is moveable – has to be set for that composition, and this isn’t instantaneous, usually requiring three to five button pushes to accomplish. All that said, refinements are still taking place.

But while out there for the first tests, I shot a few other subjects.

pale daylight moon detail
The waxing gibbous moon was almost overpowered by the brightness of the sky, but I went for a tighter crop here for drama, liking how the details faded into the blue. This is again manual focus, but much better on the mark this time.

I was also out checking on some progress, planning for the spring birthing season. Last year I’d realized that I inadvertently captured a nest in one frame, and had to pin down where it was and if it was possible to get closer. This is the one from last year:

adult bald eagle haliaeetus leucocephalus perched above remains of nest
Followed by my views a couple weeks back, looking for activity while triangulating on its position:

possible bald eagle Haliaeetus leucocephalus nest showing no occupants or activity
Still there, and still in good shape, though no sign of occupancy or any work being done on it. I did determine that I could get much closer, having a decent view through an easy-to-reach gap in the trees, so here’s hoping that it gets occupied this year, by either an eagle or an osprey family.

I also went further down to check out the osprey nest that I’d been photographing last year:

missing osprey Pandion haliaetus nest
… and found it missing entirely. I wasn’t sure if something had collapsed, so once I got back I compared it to last year’s photos, such as this:

osprey Pandion haliaetus standing on nest in better light
Actually, it doesn’t look different at all, save for the missing nest, but there was probably a fork out the back out of sight supporting the nest, and this may have broken off in the interim. Or the nest may simply have aged out and collapsed during a storm. It’s a shame though, at least from a photographer’s standpoint, since it had excellent visibility and access – about the only thing I could have asked for is being a little lower to allow a better view within. It remains to be seen if anyone will attempt to reconstruct a nest here, but I’m not holding my breath. I should get out and do more scouting as we enter nesting season, to try and find more sites to observe.

I’ll close with another version of the cormorants seen earlier, a tighter crop, because focus this time was quite sharp, and the green eyes can easily be made out even as they cruised past roughly fifty meters off. I’m good with it.

pair of double-crested cormorants Nannopterum auritum cruising past showing green eyes

Rehab redux reload

It’s slow of course, and I have little to post about – some lens tests, if I can get motivated to do them – but it’s also approaching that time of year, and so I’m once again reposting something that originally fell into the ‘Amateur Naturalist’ category, but now with a new name while lacking any actual new content (thus, like most product upgrades anymore, because people have this Pavlovian thing about the word “upgrade.”) I’m reposting this because it may be useful to someone out there when they suddenly find themselves (or know someone) with injured or orphaned wildlife on their hands. Plus it drives my word count up with a cut-and-paste job ;-)

I used to work in this field a fair amount, both in administration of wildlife organizations and as an active raptor [birds of prey] rehabilitator, plus I served as wildlife adviser in several different situations. So I’m familiar with most of the more common reactions people have when they find ‘orphaned,’ injured, and ill wildlife. It’s hard to give enough useful information without trying to cover every situation or alternative, so treat this as an overview. One thing that I especially want to emphasize here is that there is an immediate emotional response in most cases, which tries to override the advice given by those who work in the fields, so be aware of it. There isn’t an ‘instinct’ we might have that applies to wildlife, and the rational mind is the part that needs to take control.

Additionally, the amount of folklore regarding wildlife is not just abundant, in most cases it’s ridiculously wrong. I’m not even going to say, “If in doubt…,” because you should doubt right off the bat, and consider that most of what you’ve heard is highly suspect. This means, contact someone who is supposed to know, and go with their advice.

Number one rule, and I can’t repeat this enough: Don’t try to raise wildlife on your own. Their diets are specialized, their needs varied and specific to the species, and their adult behavior dependent on how they’re raised. This isn’t the place for guesswork or experimentation. Even if they seem to be ‘doing well’ (like the viral video of the guy raising a baby hummingbird,) they may have developmental issues from an improper diet or exercise, or simply have imprinted on the wrong species, and you are in essence just prolonging the death of the animal. In the US, it’s illegal to raise any species without a specific permit, and songbirds are federally protected. It’s possible to obtain these permits, and quite frankly encouraged, because there are few places with enough rehabbers, but if you’re going to do it, do it right. More further down.

So, we’re about to enter baby bird season, and this accounts for a large percentage of wildlife encounters. I’ll dispel the first myth that touching a baby bird will cause the mother to abandon it. Utter hogwash, pure and simple – yet, I don’t always discourage parents from teaching this to their children, because it’s one way to try and get kids to leave them alone, which is a good thing. Better, perhaps, to teach them to leave them alone for the right reasons, which is to avoid interrupting their feeding schedule, or injuring them, or thinking it would be neat to have a pet robin. But returning to the myth, baby birds will occasionally fall from the nest, and it’s perfectly fine to return them to it, and in fact this is recommended.

It doesn’t always work, however. Some species will discard young that are not doing well, and some even kick their own siblings out – this is nature’s method of selecting the most viable offspring, as ruthless as we find it, and we’re not going to change it. Basically, if it’s a baby bird not ready to leave the nest (not fledged; we’ll return to this,) put it back. If it keeps coming out, there may not be much you can do.

Can’t reach the nest? Try to find a way, first. If that’s not possible, occasionally the parents will accept a substitute nest, such as a plastic berry basket with soft tissue as bedding – this should be placed as close as possible to the original nest, firmly anchored so it doesn’t come down. Observe the nest carefully, but from a safe distance, for 30-60 minutes to see if the parents have indeed found the substitute. If not, seek out a rehabilitator or wildlife official.

Abandoned nest? Maybe, maybe not. Once the eggs hatch, the parent birds go into feeding mode, gathering food constantly during daylight hours and stopping at the nest for brief periods to jam it down the gullets of their ravenous progeny. The 30-60 minute rule above is because waiting less may mean you’ve simply missed the brief feeding period between the extended gathering periods. Observation has to be done at a distance that does not alarm the parents – minimum is six meters (yards,) and more is recommended. Also, being low key is paramount, so take a seat (with binoculars, for preference) and remain still and quiet. Yes, it’s boring, but it’s for the health of the offspring, and if you didn’t care about that you wouldn’t be reading ;-)

fledglingsAs the nestlings become fledglings, they abandon the nest on their own in learning how to fly. This does mean that they’ll be found unable to fly, fluttering around at low level and even just sitting there staring at you. This is normal, and they should remain undisturbed. The parents are nearby, providing food and encouraging the flight attempts. Most bird species know enough not to give away their progeny’s locations to predators, or draw attention to themselves by moving a lot, so your ability to approach, or not being attacked by angry parents when you do so, means nothing at all. Again, observation is good here, as is knowing the calls of the species in question – the parents may be coaching their young towards them.

Now, telling the difference in ‘nestlings’ and ‘fledglings.’ A nestling is a baby bird that must remain in the nest for a while; they will have few feathers, or perhaps even odd ‘quills,’ which is what the feathers look like as they are growing out. Unable to support itself? Eyes not open? Nestling. Fledglings are the babies that are ready to learn how to fly. Their feathers will have good coverage with little to no stragglers or ‘stuffing coming out’ (the baby down.) One rule I always used over the phone was to ask if there were tail feathers – if there are, they’re about ready to fly. These are fledglings and should only be observed.

If in doubt, contact a rehabber/official. This is before doing anything else, save for getting it out of immediate danger. No food, no water, nothing at all. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard people say, “We’ve tried giving it water and worms” – birds can aspirate the water if it’s not given the way the parents do (you’ve noticed the beak getting jammed halfway down the throat, right?) and only one species in North America eats earthworms. Again, folklore – ignore it and be safe.

Also, bleeding in birds is serious, no matter what. Birds have very thin blood that doesn’t coagulate easily, and they can bleed out quickly. Also note that those ‘quills’ of new feathers mentioned above have a blood supply for a while, and these can be broken and start bleeding as well. Time is important in such situations.

HappyOwletBaby raptors will tear you up – they know how to use the beak and talons very early (often on their siblings) and will not hesitate to protect themselves. And adult raptors will protect their young. This is where it’s best to leave it to the experienced.

And it may seem funny to have to say this, but baby birds do not look like their parents. Adult kestrels and screech owls, both diminutive raptors, are often considered “babies” when found by those not familiar with what a real juvenile looks like. Basic rule: if it has a smooth appearance and good coverage of feathers, it’s at least fledgling age, probably older.

What about mammals? This is a little different – mammals are generally not found away from their parents unless something has gone wrong. Most especially, if the youngster’s eyes aren’t open, they’re wet from the rain or dew, or if they’re cold or dehydrated, this is the time to contact someone. Test for dehydration by gently pinching up the skin over the shoulders or side in a ‘tent’ and releasing – if the skin takes more than a second to go back into position, this is dehydration.

Always use gloves. Juvenile mammals can certainly bite, and there’s an additional risk to this: rabies is active throughout much of North America. This is an invariably fatal disease once it passes a certain point (much more so than HIV,) so this needs to be taken seriously. It is not just the bite that can transmit it, but contact of an infected animal’s saliva with mucous membranes can introduce it as well, which means that picking up a damp animal and rubbing your eyes puts you at risk. Animals do not have to be showing symptoms to be infectious, and symptoms vary anyway. BE SAFE.

It’s not just rabies. Mammals are far more likely to introduce other zoonotic issues than birds – they’re enough like us that parasites (internal and external) and some viruses can be transmitted to us. Bringing them into the house may mean you just introduced fleas, lice, giardia, and so on into your home. You’ve been warned.

possumpeepingAlso, and it pains me to have to always say this, but cute does not mean safe. Any animal can defend itself. I have never been bitten by a raccoon, despite their aggressiveness, but I have a scar and a touch of nerve damage from a grey squirrel – one, moreover, that was raised in a house. Rabbits and mice can bite the hell out of you. Shrews even have a toxic saliva. Yes, I am trying to scare you – if you’re scared, you’re cautious, which is better than incautious.

In many cases, mammals about half of the adult size can be on their own without issues – they learn how to forage for their own food reasonably quickly. Again, the stillness thing doesn’t mean they’re lost – it may simply mean they’re trying not to attract attention. This is especially so for white-tailed deer fawns – they often curl up in the grass and conserve energy while mom forages, and will not move even when someone approaches – occasionally not even when picked up. Leave them be, and come back in a few hours. If they’re still there, that’s when you should contact someone.

Rabbits are notorious for abandoning the nest if it’s been disturbed, even with a full brood of young within. This is doubly hazardous because their nests are often in clumps of grass and can be inadvertently discovered by cleaning the yard. If it happens, immediately put everything back as it was, without touching the young, and place a few distinctive blades of grass across the nest opening (preferably something you can see from at least a short distance away,) then leave it entirely alone. Come back in a few hours and check to see if the grass has been moved. If it has, things are probably okay. If not, it may be time to check the warmth and hydration of the young. Contact a rehabilitator.

Again, trying to raise them yourself puts them at a high risk. This is especially true for rabbits, which are among the hardest mammals to raise in North America. I can’t count the number of people who have assured me that they did it once before, so “they know how to do it.” While this may be true, it ignores numerous things, such as how viable the released offspring were and whether they lasted longer than a month, whether they had developmental deficiencies because of improper nutrition, and even whether they had habituated to food or behavior that left them ill-prepared for their conditions. There is a shortage of rehabilitators, so believe me, if it was easy most people would be encouraged to tackle this on their own. The fact that not only is it discouraged, it is unlawful in most areas, should be a good indication that there’s something more to consider. And the welfare of the animal should take higher precedence than anyone’s ego.

Injured animals are extra dangerous. Yes, they may seem incapacitated or helpless, but you know what they say about appearances. One of my colleagues rashly checked an injured, near-comatose squirrel bare-handed, and it bit through her finger, joining its teeth together in the fleshy part of her index finger – I actually heard them grinding together. It then passed out without letting go. Animals in pain (even pets) often respond aggressively – they have no concept of your attempts to help them, and restraint can make them even more agitated. Deer can do vast amounts of damage by thrashing with their hooves, and the big waterfowl like herons and cranes can drive that beak into your face (and yes, they aim for effectiveness.) I really want to emphasize this, because the nurturing instincts are badly misplaced here, and extreme caution is necessary instead.

“There’s a nest of animals in my attic/crawlspace/walls and they need to be removed!” No. Most especially not when they’re raising young, which is most often when anyone notices them. Once the young are there, no further damage is going to be done to your house, because the parents are concentrating on raising their brood. Trying to relocate them is hazardous, both to the animals and to people in many cases, and pointless. Let them be, and in a few weeks the young will be old enough and move out on their own – about the only exception to this is bat colonies (more below.) Once there are no young to raise, the adult animals often leave on their own – nests are primarily for young – but they can also be encouraged to leave or stay out at that point. Squirrels are pretty bad about wanting to return to successful nest areas, and will even chew through wire mesh at times, but most others take the hint and find better places to live.

“But what about rabies?” Animals raising young, even in the eaves of your house, are not an especially high risk. Contrary to belief, rabies does not cause animals to leap suddenly out and attack people; those events are remarkably rare. While anyone should be quite cautious of any mammals that openly approach, living near them does not place anyone at special risk – you’re at greater risk of being killed by the tree near the house falling on you, and we won’t even talk about road risks. Like snake bites, most contacts with rabies vector wildlife occurs by people initiating the contact.

beaverspoor“Animals are doing damage to my property and need to be removed!” No. I can’t tell you how much this attitude annoys me, but that’s what a blog is for, right? Wildlife goes where the habitat is ideal, and pays no attention to humankind’s imaginary idea of “property.” First off, anyone should enjoy the opportunity to see behavior, something that is often hard to accomplish even when making the effort. If someone has wildlife around, chances are they aren’t in a high-rise apartment, which means they wanted to live with at least some vestige of nature visible; surprise surprise, it comes with other animals. While we might decry the damages to our gardens or landscaping, that’s part of the territory, just like road noise and power lines. Learn how to cope, and the ways to exclude animals from certain areas so we can have tomatoes. I’m sorry that a $500 tree was stripped, but no one should have planted something that was that appealing to the local species in the first place, and chances are, numerous appropriate trees had been cut down first so that the fancy landscaping could be put in its place (and I used to work for a landscaper, too.)

Trapping and removal is rarely effective. If there’s a habitat, someone else will move in. And wildlife populations have been shown through numerous studies to be fairly self-regulating; the issues come because habitat destruction by humans is not. We can put in housing developments much faster than the natural cycles of population reduction and management, and those displaced animals end up somewhere. They likely feel the same way about us – dread the point where they develop opposable thumbs.

But what about bats? Ah, the poor little guys! Much of our population considers them ugly and creepy, not at all helped by folklore and horror stories, yet bats are actually way cool mammals, and good to keep the insects down. But most species nest in colonies, and this does sometimes mean in attics, which can produce lots of guano (bat poop) and increases the risks of rabies exposure, primarily when one gets lost and ends up within the human spaces of the house. However, the damage that they can do is minuscule, since they do not dig or gnaw, and excluding them only takes 1/4″ hardware cloth (small-holed wire mesh.) Again, this should be done when no young are being raised, and should always be done with gloves and a breath mask (guano turns into dust easily and can be inhaled.) Should you find a bat in your house, contact your local animal control, since states differ on how they handle potential exposures.

I said I’d get to this: So you want to learn how to rehabilitate wildlife? Once again, this is actually encouraged, but like riding a motorcycle, it should be done properly and responsibly. If there isn’t a wildlife center or organization available in your area, contact your regional Wildlife Resource Commission office (for the US at least) to find out who in your area can train you, and most especially what permissions you need. In the US you’ll need at least one permit, possibly several. What you’ll mostly need is training, because any species requires a decent body of knowledge to tackle well – which also means pick a species, at least to start. Your local rehabbers can suggest a few, which might mean picking something you didn’t initially desire, but which is either easier to learn or presents the greatest needs within an area (and again, is this about you, or the animals?) Expect to spend a lot of time at it, since most animals need lots of attention – mammals may need feedings every four hours around the clock, and birds every 15-30 minutes during daylight (yes, I knew a songbird rehabilitator that kept baby birds in the desk drawers of her office.) And it’s almost certainly all coming out of your own pocket.

SquirrelFeeding
I feel obligated to say this, too: wild animals are not pets, and should not be raised as such. There are lots of reasons. The domesticated animals we have as pets, like cats and dogs and horses, have been bred that way for thousands of years and quite likely were chosen because they already had traits that assisted the process. Animals do not domesticate by simply raising them around people, and in many cases have behaviors that cause them to run afoul of our own (I mention once again the squirrel scar I bear, and will post that story later on.) Many animals also do not have diets that are easy for humans to replicate, meaning that they’re unlikely to thrive and may develop serious disabilities. But most distinctly, what we might imagine them to be like is rarely ever the case – they are highly unlikely to bond with humans in the slightest, and aren’t going to make good companions, do tricks, or even exhibit any appealing personality. They belong in the wild, and that should be your only goal.

Now, if the demands of rehabilitation are too much to contemplate, you can always volunteer with a local organization, and do rehabilitation on a rotation as your schedule permits. This helps prevent burnout and lets you have vacations and family emergencies. This also allows you to get involved without necessarily requiring the permits, because you can operate under the aegis of the organization and its own permits (which is how I worked with raptors, since my apartment would not fit the 15-meter flight cages required.) Still, expect to be dedicated to the job, even when it’s unsavory – cleaning cages and wounds, and even euthanizing injured animals, is a requisite part of it all. Not to mention how many species expect live or fresh food. If you’re thinking of cuddling fluffy bunnies, you’re not ready; rehab requires lots of ugly stuff, and very little bonding – they’re not pets, but wildlife, and need to be wild.

Or, simply donate money or materials. That works too, and is just as necessary – the nice thing about the subject is how nearly everyone can find a niche (provided they accept the reasonable expectations.) Despite such things as Wildlife Resource Commissions and the US Fish & Wildlife Service, there really isn’t money being put into wildlife rehab, especially not from a state or federal level. The vast majority of organizations run solely on donations and grants, and often even have to have veterinary services donated. Experienced workers are great, but donors are just as important, if not more so. Even people who can promote greater donations are important. Just about everything is grass-roots level, all of the time – the few exceptions are great, and demonstrations of what can be done, but not what you can expect throughout the field. Your help, whatever it is, will be appreciated.

A final note: find out, now, how to contact your local wildlife people. Before you find yourself with an injured owl on your hands. In some areas, it’s not self-evident or easy to find, and if it’s not a registered organization, you can forget about searching any telephone listings. Local animal control usually knows, and the 24-hour emergency vets. Often, 911 operators do not, and even local law enforcement may be stumped. A few minutes to get prepared can save a lot of hassle later on, and as I said, we’re entering baby season.

Hope this helps!

Visibly different, part 7

southern unstriped scorpion Vaejovis carolinianus not quite ready for action
Our opening image comes from the heady, halcyon days of slide film, 1999 to be precise, and depicts a southern unstriped scorpion (Vaejovis carolinianus.) I was in no danger when obtaining this photo, since scorpions in North America have relatively weak venom, little more than bee stings, and anyway this one was dead. The cool thing about scorpions is how they fluoresce under ultra-violet light, which I’ve mentioned a few times before. Once I heard about this (which was well after obtaining this photo and giving away the model,) I have been on a quest to photograph this on my own – literally for the past ten years or better. I have possessed, and travel with, a nice UV flashlight solely to see what the light will reveal at night, and while there are no scorpions of any kind near me (possibly some in the NC mountains,) I have used the flashlight to pop up the occasional other subject here and there.

So how has my scorpion photography progressed since that point 23 years ago?

nothing
It hasn’t. Despite many searches when in likely areas, I have not ever found a single specimen, dead or alive. The handful of slides from the one photo session above, all of the same pose because of rigor mortis (or whatever the arthropod equivalent is,) are the sum total that I have of the species. Which is slightly annoying, but I can’t say that I haven’t made the effort. I can say that I haven’t dedicated any special trips to the pursuit, because no one’s paying for that (not that I would turn this down if some well-heeled reader feels inclined, mind you,) but when I’ve been in the right areas, I’ve certainly done my part is searching under logs and through leaf litter in deep darkness, looking only with the UV light because scorpions hide from visible (to us) wavelengths. I’ve even done research into sightings throughout various areas in Georgia to see where they’re most likely to be found – it’s a casual yet serious quest of mine to obtain such photos. But as yet, I haven’t even come close.

[I’d like to think that writing this post was motivation to try harder and actually move forward on this goal, but a) it’s February, and so not the time to even consider the task, and b) it involves travel to a good location, the closest of which is north Georgia, and that’ll happen when I have further reasons to make such a trip. Though as I said, should funds suddenly drop into my lap…]

First of the year!

juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea venturing out in the greenhouse
Well, okay, no, this doesn’t actually count. I guess I need more qualifiers.

I’ve long had a standard that spring has finally arrived when I saw the first treefrogs, as I have tonight, but we’re not going to count this one. First off, it’s in the greenhouse, which is of course remaining unnaturally warmer than the surrounding climate, and while it got up to a lovely 21°c today (and thus much warmer in the greenhouse, peaking around 33°c therein,) it’s not sustaining that, nor has it been that warm long enough to flush the winterized frogs out of hideouts. Secondly, if we are going to count the greenhouse, I’m six weeks behind anyway; we had a run of warmer weather right as the new year was coming in, and I could easily have done the last treefrog of 2021, as well as the first of 2022, less than a minute apart, since a couple were active inside. I had unintentionally left the door cracked open that evening, so a few may have entered from outside, and I left it cracked for the next night or two so they could leave again if they so desired. I’d wondered if any remained, tucking themselves into the soil or crevices of the potted plants, and this one answered that – it’s been too cold to know before this. And yes, I’d purposefully checked, knowing the temperatures today might have brought them out in there tonight.

Meanwhile, it’s Darwin Day, and I’d like to tie this together somehow, but don’t really have a way without stretching. I’ve had the reminder popping up for the last week, without providing any inspiration at all for a post; probably should have just dug out Origin of Species and skimmed for some ideas. Ah well.

A little discipline

“Alright, you mooks, close into formation, and let’s keep it tight!”

trio of double-crested cormorants Nannopterum auritum flying in formation
“What is this? If I wanted to command a bunch of grandmammas, I’d open a bingo parlor! I said tight!

.
.

trio of double-crested cormorants Nannopterum auritum invading personal space
“That’s better!”

[Just a couple of pics from today, down at Jordan Lake, as I get more of a post in order. These are double-crested cormorants, by the way, and I need to note that since their last appearance here, the scientific name has now become Nannopterum auritum instead of Phalacrocorax auritus, because taxonomists can’t leave a damn thing alone. Good thing I check on these…]

Midnight blue

Bio Orb with octopus standA few years back now, I received a very appropriate gift from The Girlfriend’s Sprog, in the form of a ‘Bio Orb‘* – a self-sustaining aquarium containing bioluminescent dinoflagellates. These are nearly microscopic phytoplankton that, at night, glow briefly brilliant blue when disturbed, and I say this was appropriate because I’ve had personal experience with them, back when I lived in Florida; during high summer, the Indian River Lagoon would play host to them, providing a fantastic natural light show at times.

The great thing about the orb is that it’s, as I said, self-sustaining. I mean really. Dinoflagellates need very little to survive, and the globe only needs to be placed in moderate temperatures with some, but not too much, sunlight. Food is provided in the kit, but I’ve only fed them twice, because it’s only needed if there seems to be a die-off. This happened just once, as the migration of the sun through the year caused it to shine more directly into the window where I kept the orb, only in the morning, but it was a little too much. I shifted the orb back a little and everything has been going on its own since then, and that was probably two years ago now. From time to time, I pick up the globe at night and give it a little swish to see the burst of dim light that ensues. It’s pretty damn cool.

I did some initial experiments back then, mostly under the microscope, and managed to get a few photos of the individual organisms themselves. There’s really not a lot to them.

bioluminescent dinoflagellate Pyrocystis fusiformis under microscope
To be specific, this is a Pyrocystis fusiformis, a marine algae, one of the thousands of organisms known as phytoplankton. Length is less than a millimeter; I have a slide with a measuring scale etched into it, but finding one of these critters in the water sample can be tricky enough – somehow maneuvering it alongside the scale is a headache I have not yet tried to induce upon myself. This particular one, by the way, might be in the process of reproduction, since that nucleus appears to be splitting.

I also have to add another shot obtained at that time, which I pondered over.

tissue lint in polarized light under microscope
When first trying to see the dinoflagellates, I found this and did a couple of shots with polarized light (thus the colors,) before I realized this was lint from the tissue that I used to clean the slide…

Anyway, as intimated in the previous post, I decided to tackle this again, getting the microscope back out, but also prepping some new equipment.

bioluminescent dinoflagellate pyrocystis fusiformis under microscope
Microscopes, by nature, have an extremely short depth-of-field, so much so that they will often only get a portion of the subject in focus at once (which you’re going to see shortly.) One of these days I’ll start playing around seriously with image stacking, taking several photos and combining the sharpest portions of each into a new image. There’s software for this, I just haven’t messed with it yet, except manually.

bioluminescent dinoflagellate pyrocystis fusiformis under microscope
I have a simple lensless adapter for the camera to fit onto the eyepiece of the microscope, but the eyepiece lens is removed. Due to this, the camera doesn’t get the same magnification (full-frame, anyway) that I can see, and focus always has to be readjusted. This image is with the 40X objective lens, but is less than 40X – how much so, maybe I’ll calculate someday.

But what I’d really like to capture is the actual bioluminescence. To say that this is tricky is putting it mildly, since it’s dim, within the long-exposure category but of course it doesn’t last anywhere near that long. Once while in Florida, I picked a good night when the dinos were active and set the camera up in the shallows of the lagoon, aiming down into the water (the camera remained dry, relax.) I then locked the shutter open and swished my hand around madly in front of the lens for a solid minute, just to see if I could get something to register. First off, let me tell you that swishing your hand madly in the water for 60 seconds straight is quite tiring. I’ve looked at the negatives a couple of times since then, and I managed enough exposure to delineate the edges of the frame, but nothing more than that.

The 7D, however, can kick an ISO up to 6400. Was that gonna be enough? Would I, for instance, be able to see an individual dino fire off?

That, for one, would take some very high magnification, but the microscope was probably out. I can’t say for sure even after my experiments, but it appears that the illumination might be exhausted for a short while after a burst, and the agitation of getting one onto a slide might well be enough – even using the pipette very gently, I could always see them glowing while traveling up the tube is if was dark enough. While within the orb, the amount of space for the dinos to float in would mean most of them being well out of focus. So what I needed was a very narrow space – still with good visibility.

center spacer of macro tankMy solution was a new macro aquarium, made by sandwiching two pieces of clear acrylic together and then cutting them into a U shape, as seen here. This made a 4mm thick spacer, which would go between two more sheets of ‘full’ size, making a deep narrow trough to put water in. The back was the same acrylic, but for the front I used just a piece of glass from a 4×6″ photo frame from a discount store; acrylic is terrible about scratches and cloudiness, and that’s okay for the back surface but the front should be clearer. This is just a larger version of one that I made with slide glass many years ago. Provided that you have the materials and, like, a motor tool with a few different heads for that shaping, this doesn’t take too long. Everything was put together with cyanoacrylate (“super glue”) because the surfaces were all clean and flat. The seams proved to be perfectly waterproof, so then I was ready to wait until nightfall for the experiments.

finished macro aquariumWhy night, you ask? Ah, you didn’t go to that link on the species name, did you? Dinoflagellates will only illuminate at night, governed by their circadian rhythms, so just getting into a dark place wouldn’t work (which may explain why my experiments with an aquarium filled with lagoon water in Florida failed.) I gently transferred some water into my mini aquarium with a pipette, then set up the camera rig.

I did several experiments to see what would work best. I wanted as much light as possible, so the reversed Sigma 28-105 (permanently set to f16) was out. I pulled out my old Sigma 105mm macro, because that was an f2.8 lens with a failed aperture (so, permanently at f2.8) and also the bellows with an Olympus 50mm f1.4 attached. I used a 36mm extension tube with the Sigma, and of course the bellows was significantly extended, so both of these cut down the light transmitted, but they were necessary to get the magnification needed to see an individual dino. The image below, by the way, is a full-frame shot through the sides of the orb with the Sigma macro and extension:

view into dinoflagellate aquarium
… while below is a nearly-full resolution inset of the same frame:

high-resolution inset of frame showing dinoflagellates against sides
You can tell the dinoflagellates by their little orange centers. Not sharp of course, but close enough to see if any individual fired off at least.

So how did this all work?


Well, we’ve established that the brief burst of light can be captured on video, at least, though whether this will be possible at a high-enough magnification to see more detail than this is still in question. They need to be agitated to illuminate, so that generally means movement because my insulting their mothers hasn’t worked yet. So even if I have one pinned in the center of the frame in focus (which is what I was hoping for here,) the act of disturbing the water drives them out of the frame. There remains a chance that I could get one on a slide without exhausting its lighting ability (and I’m not even sure this is a limiting factor,) and then tapping the stage; I’m not holding my breath, but it might work. I may also try driving them down a clear plastic tube. But since I’ve been meaning to get this together for months now, I did at least make some progress on a project this winter, as well as preparing two macro aquariums (you have yet to see the other) for future uses. So there’s that.

* ADDENDUM: I linked to a source above, likely the one I received, but bioluminescent dinoflagellates are available from other sources not anywhere near as expensive. For instance, Carolina Biological Supply offers a living culture in comparable quantity for only $8.95 plus shipping (which is slightly pricey because these are biological specimens and have to ship 2nd Day or less.) Still, that’s a lot less than the above link, though you admittedly don’t get the classy orb and octopus stand. CBS is just down the road from me here, so I can just drive over for a new batch.

Will it work?

Ah, that’s the question, isn’t it? It’s taken a lot of prep work so far, and initial experiments have proven that the concept is sound, but will it pay off? We won’t know until at least tonight, possibly later.

At least none of the prep work will be wasted if the experiment fails, since it can all be used elsewhere. And it hasn’t cost me anything, except reducing my stock of adhesives slightly; all other materials were already on hand.

The experiment itself will provide at least a couple of answers, even if it’s, “You only have one shot every hour,” or, “You’re going to need more sensitivity than this.” I’ve already ruled out one lens, and in fact dug out an old, failed lens because of a specific trait.

Am I going to tell you what this is? Of course not – that would ruin the surprise if it does work. If you think waiting for a subsequent post is frustrating or something, bear in mind I’ve been meaning to get to this for well over a year, and in fact an initial image has been sitting in the blog folder since, let’s see… damn, it’s dated April 12, 2020! So, longer than I thought. Most of that is, of course, simply saying to myself that I’ll tackle it later on when it’s slow, but a little time here and there was spent hashing out methods in my head. Last night I finally made a few tries, and you may see the video shortly.

But anyway, something’s coming, though I yet don’t know exactly what.

Visibly different, part 6

wide view of Looking Glass Falls, Brevard NC from roadside
We open with a shot from 2005, of Looking Glass Falls in Brevard, in the top two of familiar waterfalls in North Carolina. But this one isn’t the ‘best’ that I got while there, because I certainly got a lot closer, and did longer exposures to make the water all blurred and cottony, and all that. Instead, this was to illustrate the public access areas, as well as showing what was produced by Fuji Provia slide film in those conditions – which is admittedly different from the following comparison shot. Normally I got much better color than this, so I don’t know if this was a bad batch, or older, or got a little too heated in my bag, or what, but it’s not impressive in any way. Though while we’re here, we’ll take a look at where the overlook is (the splash of blue helps you to realize how far down it goes,) because this was shot from the roadside; there’s no parking ‘lot’ for the area because there wasn’t the room or the topography for anything that size, but the road had been significantly widened to allow roadside parking well down from here, and it was often pretty close to capacity. You also can’t really tell from this shot, but access outside of the railed viewing area is easy, and getting down to water level (and even right underneath the falls) is trivial to accomplish, so perhaps a quarter of those visiting, myself included, got down for different perspectives.

Look down to the lower right, where a crisscross of small trees is silhouetted against brighter background: that’s a very large fallen trunk right there, extending well out over the shallow creek leading from the foot of the falls.

Now we go a little more recent.

long exposure from base of Looking Glass Falls in Brevard NC
This came from 2017, actually the day of the total solar eclipse, just not at all during the eclipse. We were traveling south to get into the path of totality, and since we were passing, we had to stop. Deep haze and a different time of day changed the lighting conditions, but you’ll note that there are four times as many people here now. No, wait, you won’t, because I purposefully got down well away from where they might intrude, and waited until the family playing on the rocks near the falls (about midframe) got out of view. The overlook is just a little outside of the frame to the left, and I’m shooting from the end of that fallen trunk that I mentioned above, still there twelve years later. Now chasing the fartsy thing, I closed down the aperture to ensure that I’d get a longer exposure, in this case 0.6 seconds – not terribly long, but easily enough to blur the very active water, while also not giving others too much time to get into the frame again.

This doesn’t really illustrate the difference in slide film and digital, because I’ve gotten much better results from Provia than this, nor the improvements that I’ve made over the years, because I had done better images than the first even on that same day. But what it does illustrate is the difference between a snapshot and a scenic landscape, one able to be made into a large print for your walls (like the meter-wide canvas right over my desk here at Walkabout Studios.) Slightly more effort to get a good perspective, a little selective framing, a little patience to allow people to get out of the frame, and just a wee bit of knowledge of how to make the water more interesting – that’s all. The viewer has no impression of the incessant chattering of tourists off to the left, interspersed with the squeals and cries of the kids, and no sight of the various people traipsing through the waters. It’s all a lie, is what I’m saying, but one of those good lies…

[It’s not all a lie, really: the smells that you might be imagining, the feel of the humidity and even the spray in the air, the tricky footing underneath – those were all present and accurate to the image. Just not the implied seclusion.]

Proof of concept

Did a quick pass around the nearby pond today, more to get out while the weather was actually pleasant than to chase photo subjects because the light was far from ideal, but I wasn’t so pathetic that I failed to take the camera. So when the little buff female mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) cruised by, I snagged a few frames, including a lovely portrait.

buff-colored female mallard Anas platyrhynchos portrait
Of all the various summer residents that the pond has had, I’m kind of glad this one chose to stick around, because I like her coloration.

There was also a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) that could be found, like usual, but spooky enough not to allow too close of an approach.

great blue heron Ardea herodias just standing
Earlier, The Girlfriend and I had spotted it sitting low in the water like a duck, which I’ve never seen before. I never thought they swam at all, and certainly don’t have the legs or feet for it, but I’ve also never seen them wading that deep, so I can’t say either way. It wasn’t far enough out into the water to preclude a deep wading session, but I’ve never determined actual depth in most areas of the pond either. By the time we got closer (losing sight among trees as we did so,) it had gotten back to typical shoreline behavior as seen above. I had only taken the Canon 100-300 L along this time, for a light kit, and it didn’t quite peg focus too tightly, so this is what we have.

Meanwhile, the evidence of the beaver activity continues to grow.

tree showing North American beaver Castor canadensis activity
A couple weeks back i had determined there were at least two North American beavers (Castor canadensis) by spotting one and hearing the warning slap of another while checking out the pond at about 1 AM. And then the overnight temperatures became too cold to merit staking out locations, especially with my sinuses. Last night it had actually been warm enough, but I never thought to check and immersed myself in the previous post and podcast anyway; by the time I realized how warm it was, it was far too late to begin a session.

But this afternoon, what I did find was where the lodge was. Probably.

cut trees screening entrance to lodge of North American beaver Castor canadensis
I’ve never found one of the mid-pond lodges like most people imagine, instead noticing (in this immediate region anyway) that beavers have always made their lodges alongside tree roots in the banks of ponds or streams. My friend, one of the residents around the pond, suspected that the beavers were using the little island, and finding this just about confirmed it. Those are all beaver-cut logs and branches, and were certainly not there a couple of weeks ago, nor are they underneath any noticeable cut trees; I suspect that the entrance is just at the base of the larger roots towards the right.

Given that the temperature tonight was holding at a lovely 18°c, I decided to give it a shot, and this time The Girlfriend came along, hoping to catch a glimpse. I had coached her a little on using the reflections of the residents’ lights on the water to watch for ripples, to point towards a silent beaver cruising past while keeping the headlamps off, and so we sat down in a likely location and waited. There were a few false alarms, and twice the rain started very halfheartedly and gave up, about like my efforts to learn touch-typing. Then The Girlfriend directed my attention to some tiny, sporadic reflections on the opposite shore, ones that really shouldn’t have been there, and we became pretty sure the beavers were up on the bank there. I fired off a few test shots at extreme range, a measured 80 meters from our location (Google Earth is handy,) and got what was likely some eye reflections. Then we started circling the pond to get closer.

We were still about 20 meters from where we’d seen the reflections when the faint shadows of ripples crossing the reflection of the sky could be seen, and I used that for focusing and fired off a couple of frames, with the Vivitar 285HV flash at full power, the Tamron 150-600 at 400mm, and ISO set for 6400 – not ideal, but I was trying to make the most out of the light output. It worked well enough.

North American beaver Castor canadensis in water dragging branches back to lodge
That’s the head to the left, with the ruby reflection from one eye, and the body stretches just past mid-frame; obviously we caught someone taking food back to the lodge. Beavers use the larger limbs for building and damming material, often stripping off the tasty bark, and the smaller branches serve as food. Later on, as the new saplings appear and the pond plants start sprouting, they’ll switch to those because they’re more palatable, but beavers are strictly herbivorous; anyone that says they should be removed because of damage to the fish populations is talking out of their ass.

We kept advancing towards where The Girlfriend had spotted the reflections, going slowly because we didn’t know how many there might have been, but afraid that we’d already spooked away the only one. The spot was empty, though we found the newly-cut limb right alongside some wet spots on the trunk, so we knew right where it had been. But then, just before giving up to head home, we saw the ripples again, and they were close.

The bulk of the flash unit atop the camera makes it really hard to use a headlamp as an aiming and focusing guide at night, and I eventually tore it off and handed it to The Girlfriend so she could do the spotlighting, but it was more than enough to peg focus and framing. What it didn’t reveal, however, were the numerous small twigs that sat between me and the beaver, not illuminated by the headlamp. The flash got them, though.

North American beaver Castor canadensis in water, partially obscured by flashlit branches
I chimped at the frame, cursed, and shifted position before the beaver decided to dive. Full credit to this one, and to the species in general: out in open water, they often don’t feel threatened and will let their curiosity get the better of them. This one actually turned around after passing and paused, fully illuminated by the strong beam of the headlamp, and I fired off another frame, this time free of those damn twigs.

North American beaver Castor canadensis portrait in water
Granted, this was only 8-10 meters distant now, and the flash can cover that distance. I’d love not to have to use ISO 6400, but we may just have to see what happens later on.

This is not quite full-frame, by the way, cropped only horizontally – the original was a little wider than this. But right now, I’m good with it – it’s probably the best detail that I’ve gotten out of any beaver pics. So far, anyway – I’m aiming for better, especially if I can get one on shore, and an ‘action’ shot would be ideal. They are, occasionally, still out at first light, so perhaps I’ll try again some morning. The temperature is forecast to plummet again, but I don’t think these two (?) are going anywhere soon, and some young may be popping up come spring. We’ll just have to see what happens.

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