I just had to post this from this morning…
No editing or trickery here, just the perspective and lack of defining shadows.
Profiles of Nature 20
This week we have our singing, dancing, and seriously cheesy humor trio, Dawny, Orlando, and Tone, warming up for their debut variety show, inexplicably named Shields and Yarnell. Raised in a musical family, they opted to inflict this on the rest of the world rather than assert their independence like any normal person, resulting in several musical contracts from agents that believed ‘cute’ and ‘kitschy’ would supplant talent adequately, because they never take the blame. The trio is well prepared, though, already planning post-popularity careers for the inevitable, “Did they die of a drug overdose or what?” TV segments; Tone is learning how to name boutique products, Dawny is going to teach Answering The Exact Same Questions In Creative Ways at a community college, and Orlando is endeavoring to pronounce “artisanal” consistently. None of them are planning to make vagina-scented anythings, so there’s that. They even have their last album planned, where they experiment with new styles only to determine that their fans were solely people that liked the cute and kitschy stuff; a lot of studio musicians are gonna get stiffed on that one. In the meantime they’re making the most of their fame, getting pompous in public and endorsing shitty products while over-publicizing their scant charitable work, such as with Clichés Deserve Our Respect. In their spare time they like to stare vapidly. Asked about their favorite car colors, Dawny admitted his was Dark Titanium Metallic, Tone countered that Magnum Grey Metallic was superior, and Orlando insisted that they were both lackluster and Ink Slate Metallic was clearly the best.
We’ll be here next week, and could tell you that it can only go up from here but we all know that’s a lie, don’t we?
All over the place
Tuesday of last week, out at North Topsail Beach, was a day of widely varied conditions. I was up and on the beach itself for sunrise, but it was a waste of time, the horizon being entirely clouded over even while the upper reaches weren’t too bad. Worse, the spray coming off the ocean was so thick that my glasses became coated with salt, rendering my vision so bad that I couldn’t be sure the camera was even focused; it was akin to first waking up and your eyes haven’t cleared yet, but no amount of reflexive blinking was improving matters. On taking the kayaks out (after cleaning the glasses, for the first time anyway,) the wind was a bit stiff and had to be fought against when facing that way, and the sky remained resolutely blerk.
That’s me, and the green thing on my arm is the case for the waterproof Ricoh, when it isn’t in the hands of one of our friends like it is here – keeps it handy (the case I mean,) because believe me, rooting in pockets while in a kayak doesn’t work well.
And the wind’s blowing my shirt around; I’m not that fat. Asshole.
The military aircraft, quiescent through the weekend, had started their maneuvers on Monday and made their occasional low passes like before, punctuated by ‘artillery’ rounds a few kilometers off at the practice landing zone north of the island, which occasionally produced a nice little mushroom cloud like a departing magician.
My hair is not falling out, or any faster than normal anyway, so I’m tentatively considering this an inert practice round.
On coming back along the dock/walkway, one of the marsh crabs was venturing out in the afternoon, which is rare since they’re primarily nocturnal. I had encountered them the first night, even scooping one up for a momentary close inspection, but thereafter they made themselves scarce, so this is the best I have from this trip.
I’m reasonably certain this is a squareback marsh crab (Armases cinereum, changed from Sesarma cinereum since the last time I featured them,) and they live in those burrows by day. All subsequent nights, I could only find them in a similar position in the doorways, not venturing out across the boards, pilings, and marsh plants like previously. Were they that affected by the temperatures (which dropped into the teens or lower at night – that’s celsius, by the way)? Can’t say – crabs are not my specialty. Nothing else is either.
But as the day wore on, the clouds thinned a bit, in late afternoon presenting a nice solar filter that allowed the sun to be viewed, and photographed, directly.
I mentioned to our friends that these were ideal conditions to see sunspots, should they exist, and sure enough, there are two patches visible, if you look close, in the upper quadrants where you might expect eyes. Tiny, tiny eyes, like manatees.
Moreover, the sun dropped out from beneath the cloud cover right at sunset, allowing for some nice views and colors, raising hopes that the following day would be decent despite the forecasts.
That’s the shared dock and gazebo of the property, used among eleven condos I think, but most of those were unoccupied so it never got crowded or anything, and there was no one else around most of the times we put the kayaks in. This exposure is ‘normal,’ which doesn’t have a lot of meaning because the camera tries for a middle tone and the image certainly appears darker than it did to our eyes, but at least the patches of deeper sky and treeline helped balance out the brightness of the sun. Without them, the exposure would have been even darker as the camera tried to make the sun a ‘middle tone.’ As with most sunrises and sunsets, I did a little bracketing, often finding that darkening the exposure slightly brings out better colors, but getting a decent range, above and below, helps ensure that at least one will be what you prefer the most.
This is darkened about a full stop, rendering the sun itself much better, but wouldn’t you know it, that’s the precise time a small flight of brown pelicans (Pelecanus occidentalis) chose to cruise through up there in the cloud line, almost lost in the darkness now. Had I really been on the ball, I might have bracketed a couple of frames at least, but you know they were in position above the sun for a couple seconds at best, and I honestly didn’t know how dark this would actually be rendered – no, the LCD preview wouldn’t tell me anything with any degree of accuracy, had I even been chimping. It’s one of those learning experiences, so next time, perhaps I’ll get a couple of better shots. We’ll see, I suppose.
Initial ‘snot art
I was going to call these posts ‘Fart Break,’ because as I’ve said, I don’t do art, but then thought, Naah, that’s too gross, so I went with a title that at least spells out that it’s not art. Much better.
Anyway, Buggato’s parting words this morning were, “Work on your art,” but I already had on this trip – here’s the first:
The weather wasn’t all bad, and even though the temperature’s dropping quickly in this pic, you don’t know that. Or you wouldn’t have…
Some isolated birds
For this post, we’ll hit a handful of scattered birds captured during the beach trip, some of which I’d hoped to snag a wider variety of frames, but it was not to be. Above, however, we have a male boat-tailed grackle (Quiscalus major,) which were impossible to avoid, yet I wasn’t all that interested in capturing their behavior, but the muted light from the crummy weather at least showed the variety of feathers in their plumage, where they often just look black. Boat-tailed grackles are talkative birds with a wide repertoire, some of which you may hear in later video clips. At this time, alas, I did not have recording equipment with me, so when he voiced his soliloquy below, all I could do was capture still photos.
While a lot of people consider grackles to be pests, I find their calls to be far more interesting than most birds, and not as raucous as some of their relatives, but I’ll admit they’re a bit domineering in their territories. We don’t have them where I live in central NC, so I only see them at the beach or in Florida (where they have dark eyes instead.)
Below, one was foraging in a tidal pool at sunrise, captured as I was pursuing other species in the same pool, but I liked the droplets as it withdrew its beak from the water while backlit.
The osprey nest that we observed during previous visits was gone this year, the platform provided for them completely bare, even though osprey were active in the area. At different times, we observed a bald eagle (Haliaeetus luecocephalus) using it as an eating and spotting perch to monitor the waters below.
Seen from shore, the platform was over 200 meters off, so tight closeups were out of the question. Once, the eagle was present as we were putting the kayaks in, and we made the attempt to get in a bit closer, fostered a bit by the neighbor’s shot of an eagle in a tree taken from their phone, which likely required quite a close approach. That eagle was not this one, apparently, or it recognized us as the shallow touristas that we were, because it took flight before we got within even 75 meters, too far for the waterproof Ricoh to gain any detail.
One evening, the eagle was perched there while I dug out a jellyfish kite, taking it out onto the walkway to the gazebo and dock. I didn’t get much altitude from it in the evening breeze, but the until-then silent eagle began voicing its displeasure over an aerial intruder, which I found fascinating. I mean, I was way off, and nowhere near getting ‘up in the air,’ yet the orange kite with its trailing tentacles was apparently cause for concern.
But while I’m here, I’ll demonstrate why trusting autofocus for wildlife photography is often a big mistake, or at the very least wasting time and frames:
As I said, the osprey (Pandion haliaetus) were present, but not as cooperative, and I wasted numerous frames and a few video clips, both from on land and within the kayak, tracking one as it hunted unsuccessfully above – wheeling, backing, near-hovering, starting a dive but abandoning it almost immediately, and so on. When I finally saw one doing something interesting, it was well over 250 meters off (don’t get the impression I can spit out these distances easily – I used Google Earth to measure them once back home.) This is where trusting manual focus doesn’t always work, either, but autofocus would have kept snagging the changing background, so I was more accurate using manual. Just, not as accurate as I would have liked.
This was the sharpest frame, and the prey, it quickly became evident, was a sizable flounder. I really hope there was a nestful of young-uns awaiting this back home, otherwise the bird was in for a tummyache. But let’s back off to the full frame to show what it looked like even at 600mm.
That greenish-beige blur is the column supporting the stacked decks that I was shooting from, out the back of the condo; really, a decent observation spot, but only with the long lens or binoculars. We’ll see more from it later on.
And finally, something that I haven’t seen in years, and have yet to get any really nice frames of:
That’s an American oystercatcher (Haematopus palliatus), which I’ve seen only a handful of times before, and always at a fair distance – not as great as this time, though, because it was about 160 meters off (I’d estimated 100, so we see how good my estimates are.) All I could see by naked eye was a white blob against the tussock island, though, so I’m glad that I decided to get the long lens on it, and at least could show the brilliant red bill and eye. And it’s hunting in a great location, since these many islands in the shallow sound were primarily oyster beds that had collected enough silt and peat to grow grasses and remain just above the tides – in the kayaks, we’d passed numerous semi-exposed oysters during lower tides that were still feeding, squirting little fountains into the air as they expelled the filtered water.
I have plenty more birds to come; these were just the singular captures. We’re whittling them away.
Grey and green
So let’s see, what to tackle with the first of the beach posts? How about a familiar subject?
We’ll start with sunrise on the first two days. We’d driven out Saturday and met friends out there, so it turned out to be a late night, and I did a little poking around in the dark to see if the marsh crabs were active (they were, a little) but without any intention of doing photography or video. So Sunday morning, the first opportunity that I had, I didn’t even set the alarm, but woke up near that time anyway. Didn’t matter; the skies were near overcast, and our friends, always early risers, said that the sun appeared only briefly before ascending into clouds. Monday morning, however, I set the alarm and was out on the beach ready, to have even worse conditions.
And that pretty much spelled the tone for the day, remaining semi-overcast and not providing a lot of opportunities. That light quality, however, can be good for colorful subjects, and I took momentary advantage of this when passing some wildflowers near the sound.
But to get back on topic, we soon realized that a green heron (Butorides virescens) was hanging around, quite close. It was exceptionally shy and provided few opportunities for detail shots, and from the frequency of appearance and the calls that I kept hearing, I was suspicious that it had a nest in the thicket right off the back of the property, bordering the sound. This was a stretch only a few meters wide before giving way to the marsh grasses in peat too waterlogged to walk in, and yet it was impenetrably thick, offering no visibility or entry to anything larger than a vole. I tried, several times, to determine if there really was a nest in there, but achieved nothing. Seeing it from the sound side with the long lens might have helped, but there was no way I was bringing the regular camera equipment along in a kayak, and the waterproof Ricoh didn’t have the focal length. Eventually, I got lucky enough to see the heron perch on the railing when I was just out of sight behind the marsh reeds, and could slowly lean out and snag a few frames.
One of our friends got a bit luckier though, catching it when it perched on a tree in the thicket while she was on the deck, and snagged a much nicer portrait while I was pretty much exactly where the heron above was, no camera in hand.
With as much luck as I’ve had with the local green herons this spring, this one was much more in line with my previous experiences, remaining distant and aloof. Or maybe I shouldn’t say “one,” because another evening it became evident there were more, and I suspect we were watching courting behavior. On the neighboring dock, we could see two flitting around in close proximity, taking perches only a few meters apart, soon joined by a third. All three did not deign to get into the frame at the same time, though.
They were joined by a pair of willets, I think only because it was near dusk and the active time for birds before settling in for the night. Both species are pretty much impossible to determine the gender of on sight, but the two herons on the dock soon revealed themselves to be males, since a territorial dispute followed quickly.
The one on the left fluffed out his feathers, dropped his beak to his chest, and trotted purposefully towards the other, who quickly chose not to dispute the claim and flew off a short distance, seen here at the edge of the dock if you look closely – distance, angle, and lighting all could have been better of course. I never understand why so many species choose to do their distinctive behavior where it’s hard to see them. The dominant male soon returned his attentions to what must have been the female, but as you can see, the marsh reeds were obscuring a lot and we never saw if they consummated this courtship or not. And I only say this because we were more successful, later on with another species, but I’m keeping my promise to do shorter posts this time, so we’ll wrap up with a brown pelican (Pelecanus occidentalis) that cooperatively did a closer pass over the sound while the light was still decent. This remained the best photo of pelicans that I got for the trip, though.
More to come – there’s only, oh, forty-some photos in the folder awaiting their turns…
Hmmm, what to do?
Friday, May 21st is Endangered Species Day, which to a wildlife photographer almost amounts to a challenge, and generally, a pretty tough one: get photos of at least one endangered species. Of course, they’re endangered because there aren’t many of them, and thus they’re hard to find, so it usually takes a special effort to locate any, a targeted expedition of sorts. Which leads to the issue that anyone doing so may be disturbing their habitat, and thus increasing the risk, however small the impact from one snooping person might be. It’s unlikely to get as out of hand as, like, people wanting to go to the Galápagos, but the ethical question remains over whether the attempt should even be made, and benefits outweighing risks and all that.
On top of that, there’s the species that can be found in any given area, and for us here, it’s a short list: a couple of birds, several fish, three plants, and a handful of mussels. Oh, and a snake, the southern hognose (Heterodon simus,) one of the few that I’ve actually photographed before and one of the potentials on my list, even though technically it’s an ‘At Risk Species’ and not Endangered. I know exactly where I found that one, but I have suspicions that it’s not still hanging around at that road crossing after two decades…
Mussels are not even in consideration, mostly because I can’t tell one from another, and the fish are close behind, partially because I’d have to capture one to get any kind of decent images from an aquarium. But something like the Neuse river waterdog (Necturus lewisi) remains a possibility, being large enough, distinctive enough, and semi-close enough (maybe) to warrant the attempt. Perhaps the plant species, provided I can get enough details to distinguish them from their non-endangered brethren.
Bald eagles (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) are no longer on the Endangered list, but remain critically protected, so at least we may see more pics of them (including real soon.) The red-cockaded woodpecker (Picoides borealis) would be a challenge, given the habitat, but perhaps easier than the waterdog.
But ignoring the photography angle, which really involves more ego-gratification than anything else, there’s the chief intention of the holiday, which is to raise awareness of the species and why they’re endangered, primarily habitat loss. Development, repurposing, and pollution are the leading culprits, all fostered by humans, the most impactful species that has likely ever walked the planet. Most of us arrived in this country (ancestrally, anyway) with the idea that it was all free land, do as we will, and eventually found that this attitude was detrimental in a large variety of ways, and we’re still discovering the ripple effects of this behavior. It’s easy to think, on the face of it, that losing a species of mussel wouldn’t mean jack shit to us, but an ecosystem depends on countless species and their own impacts and effects. Mussels are filter-feeders, capable of cleaning water sources from harmful particles and bacteria, but also (like so many species) indicators of how viable the water is in the first place. Their loss might seem trivial, but it could indicate that the water is getting pretty wretched, which is going to impact everything downstream, including those of us that use those rivers as a fresh water source. Not to mention the wetlands, which provide breeding areas for countless aquatic species, many of which we eat ourselves. And the impact on the plants in the wetlands may mean encroachment of salt-laden seawater further inland, through storm surges, which results in the loss of viable farmland and, yes, even housing developments. Nothing sits alone and separate from the ecosystem, including us, and willy-nilly changes to this can have huge impacts down the line, foreseen and unforeseen.
All too often, we think that it’s somebody else that’s creating the worst effects, which is usually correct, but the overall attitude towards environmentalism is a culture, which we can change at will. In a country that’s proud of the hours we work, that revels in the sports and outdoor accomplishments, that’s always ready to stand up for something important, we can be ridiculously lazy when it comes to simple things like recycling and being mindful of resources. How hard is it to dispose of things properly, and when did hard even become this thing that we couldn’t handle? I’m ranting, I know, but seriously, we’re pretty selective about the efforts we choose to put in, to no one’s benefit. And most of it is simply the attitudes we hold. Those aren’t even slightly difficult to change.
So maybe that’s the challenge for Friday, or any day: find those things that we can change, including how others see it all. Pics are fine, but progress is undoubtedly better.
Little bites. Maybe
As intimated in the previous post, we just got back from a week’s stay at the beach, and of course this will be covered in excruciating detail. However, I think I may take a different approach this time, doing shorter posts of singular topics – which means more posts, but of fewer words at a time. Or at least I’ll try; this is me we’re talking about, so who knows whether I’m even capable of that.
Right now this is just a teaser, mostly because I don’t feel like writing much at the moment. This trip wasn’t the best we’ve had, marred by bad weather, cold temperatures, and some idiotic gas situation, which illustrates one of the reasons that I don’t like pre-planned trips: you’re stuck with the conditions that you couldn’t foresee weeks or months ahead, and seriously, this has to be the coldest May I’ve experienced since moving south.
But I’ve still got plenty of photos to feature, so brace yourself.
Ugly truths
I’ve known this for a long time, and would like to deny it because it’s a quality that I’d rather not have, but at the same time, I can see nothing to do about it, and simply have to face the music: but damn, I can pack a lot of shit for a trip.
Not clothes, oh no – I can get by with the minimum, and don’t care how I look so that’s just enough to cover the number of days I’ll be away – often less, really. Not sundries or snacks or whatever; I keep my overnight bag of toiletries packed and simply add an electric razor as needed, and snacks are purchased for the day of travel, if it’s by car. Not even emergency weather items so much, though I usually try to come at least a little prepared, but I’ll layer on shirts rather than pack a jacket.
But the photography equipment.
I hate being unprepared for a rare opportunity, and most times, it’s not a situation where I could ‘make do’ with some shortcut or repurposing or something of that nature. It’s the same reason why I can’t carry a light bag with ‘just the essentials’ in it, because these are all essentials. Possibility of macro work (and that’s virtually always a possibility)? That means a couple of lens, the macro flash and softbox, the flash bracket and arm, and spare batteries. Video work? That’s a cage with an arm for the video light, and if I’m the least bit serious, another arm holds the external monitor (because using the LCD on the back of the camera is stupid and annoying,) at least one mic but usually two because the shotgun mic picks up wildlife sounds a hell of a lot better, and at least one tripod, possibly the custom macro tripod. That part is a little amusing, because I’ll eschew it for most macro photo work, counting on brief exposure durations and the output of the flash to ‘freeze’ things – the flexibility of freedom greatly outweighs the benefits of a tripod – but for video work, a tripod is almost essential, and much of my video is of macro subjects.
About the only plus to all this (aside from being able to get damn near all of the photographs and video that might provide an opportunity,) is that I can pack efficiently – all of this will be in the smallest possible space, organized and with ease of access dependent on its importance. But I still feel like a teenage girl when going on trips, though I’m probably much worse.
There’s a particular reason that I bring this up, and you’ve likely already determined what it is – you’ll see soon enough. Even sooner than you might think, because I don’t admit on the blog when I’ll be away, only when I’m back again. Sit tight.
Profiles of Nature 19
The appeal is still pending, so we’re still going! This week we meet Eulalia, here in her scene from Baywatch performing mouth-to-mouth on her co-star, sure to keep the ratings high. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a set of hemostats in her duodenum, the malpractice settlement allowed Eulalia’s family to move away to Chicago, where she was eventually discovered, packed away with the cleaning supplies. Even later, she was discovered by a casting agent and got her big break in the Broadway production of Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins when she played Forgettable Token Ingenue. From there, the parts and the fame just kept rolling in – mostly to other people, but hey, she enjoyed the spectacle of it anyway. She boasts of having an Entourage, the Blu-Ray version, and tries to work Versace into the conversation every chance she gets, only she thinks it’s a type of caviar; this has led to some pretty horrified looks from others at parties. She’s a fitness buff, but what else is new? Eulalia is still single, and admits that she’s looking for a man that’s not afraid to cry when he takes a hard hit to the nuts after wrecking his bike, which makes us wonder about past dates – and the future ones as well. Her favorite manufacturer of slip-joint pliers is Knipex, despite the public shaming this earns her.
Yup, next week. Be strong.
* * *
I have to add this, and even worse, be serious for a moment here. I’d featured this image back in 2014 and credited it (and another) as a fishing spider, because they both were hanging out in a bucket of water, diving underneath the surface to escape attention, and capturing prey while skating atop. And just now, while preparing this post, I looked at the eyes and said, Wait a second. In the intervening seven years, I’d discovered the method of determining spider families by eye arrangements, and now knew these weren’t fishing spiders, but wolf spiders instead. That were acting like fishing spiders. This is not unknown to entomologists, but it was news to me, and something that I’d never seen before or since. It’s not like they were forced to use the water through that being the only available habitat; the spiders had an entire yard at their disposal, and like I said, this was only a bucket, not exactly a teeming metropolis of arthropoda. But hey, you do you, little spiders.