New York: Enough with New York already

northern flicker Colaptes auratus peeking from behind limb
I’ve already done posts on the birds seen during the New York trips, both the raptors and the non-raptors, but didn’t go through the photos thoroughly enough, because there were several more that I intended to feature, so we’re now getting to that (with a couple of other subjects thrown in as a bonus to you, the 10th visitor to this blog.) Above, one of a quartet of northern flickers (Colaptes auratus,) which I’m fairly certain were new fledglings, peeks out at me during an extended but mostly hidden foraging session at the Gatsby mansion, taking place over more than an hour – much of the time, I was concentrating on the ospreys nearby, even when I could hear their distinctive calls as they flipped between the trees. The black cheek stripe (malar) pegs this as an eastern, or yellow-shafted, variant, distinctively colored yet apparently not a subspecies.

On one of the visits to Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, both The Girlfriend and I heard the sharp call of a green heron (Butorides virescens,) but she was the one that spotted it, peeking out from the top of a tree alongside the channel.

green heron Butorides virescens perched in treetop
The distance was significant and the car was motionless, so I doubted that it was reacting to us, but it soon flew off without any other apparent provocation, so it was either us, or it spotted something else that it felt merited attention, perhaps an interloper out of our sight beyond the marsh grasses. But I snagged a nice action pose out of it.

green heron Butorides virescens taking flight
For some reason, I’m having a devil of a time getting decent photos of a belted kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon.) I mean, I know they don’t like close approaches and fly off whenever I seem to get within 30 meters, but they’re fairly common birds around the ponds and streams, all throughout the US – I just can’t seem to get a solid shot of one. On another visit to the refuge, I spotted two perched in the open, and within a refuge you’d expect the birds to be more conditioned to people, allowing better opportunities, right? It certainly held true for many species that I saw, and it might have been true for the kingfishers too, except that their perches were far enough off to prevent that nice tight shot that I was after, and both were towards the early morning sun, so backlit. Sheesh.

female belted kingfisher Megaceryle alcyon perched on fencepost in Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, New York
The first was a female, and was at least facing me but, you know, sun and distance. And the choice of a perching spot was less than photogenic. At least it turned enough to get a little light on its eye, so, yay?

The male, a few hundred meters further on, was no better.

male belted kingfisher Megaceryle alcyon perched on sign in Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, New York
This one found another sign to perch on, because why use nice scenic snags or anything? With his back turned, you don’t even have a good view of the orange breast, though there’s a peek here. There was no chance of circling around or trying for a better vantage, even if I flouted the proscriptions against leaving your car in these areas, because they were many meters off across a thicket of marsh grasses and swampland, treacherous and above all noisy to navigate. But I still don’t understand how I’ve gone so many years and never gotten a frame of this species that I’m really happy with.

I previously mentioned following one of the walking trails, which didn’t produce a lot of interest, but I snagged a handful of frames nonetheless.

brown-lipped snail Cepaea nemoralis in Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, New York
Land snails of any kind were almost nonexistent while I lived up there, much less sizable, colorful specimens, so it was curious to spot several back in 2015, and I found the same species on this trip. It goes by countless names, though the most common seems to be the brown-lipped snail, but better to stick with Cepaea nemoralis. It’s an invasive, European species, and what I found both times fit within the typical size, which is roughly 25mm across. The others were in the frame just for the sake of it, and remain unidentified.

I also came across a curious tableau right at my feet, which I misinterpreted until looking at the photos later on – otherwise I might have done more examination, at least.

collection of turtle shells and two holes within Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, New York
I initially though this was a collection of dried, bleached crayfish fragments outside the burrow of whatever ate them, but looking at the photos I realized that these were instead turtle shells, evidence of a nest that had been there. Since I’d seen a painted turtle laying eggs the last time I’d been up only a few weeks previously, this was in the right time frame. However, another detail caught my eye, so we’ll go in for a closer look (even though my photos aren’t the best.)

empty turtle shells and a possible casting or feces of predator
The larger, grey item at lower right is the key bit, since the size, shape, and texture lead me to believe this is either a fecal deposit, or a casting (a pellet of undigestable hair and bones coughed up by raptors some time after a meal.) The hairlike texture, especially that tapered end, sure look suspiciously like either. So now I’m not sure that I didn’t discover evidence of a raided nest, since I would think that the eggshells would remain buried and hidden if the young turtles hatched out normally. Raptors typically do not dig for food, so I’m leaning towards raccoon or opossum.

While we’re on the subject of mammals…

eastern gray squirrel Sciurus carolinensis with red-blonde tail
… The Girlfriend pointed out this eastern grey squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) while we were at the Gatsby Mansion, since it sported this brilliant red-blonde tail, well outside of any color variation that I’ve ever seen them in. It did not appear diseased or otherwise different, just a dye job only on the tail itself. The best view we had of it was, naturally, when the camera was not in hand, and by the time I got it ready, the squirrel had scurried much farther off, so this is what I got. We never saw it again, despite keeping a careful eye out.

Okay, back to the refuge.

willet Tringa semipalmata within reeds, Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, New York
I featured a teaser image for the end-of-the-month abstracts, and finally got around to posting the better photos. I was a little surprised to find a willet (Tringa semipalmata) foraging along the edges of a marsh pond in the refuge, thinking they were shorebirds and perhaps southern at that, but it appears that their range is well into the central New York region, so phooey on me. This one was fairly close but always partially obscured by reeds, so much so that even snagging sharp focus was tricky.

willet Tringa semipalmata deep in reeds within Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, New York
I’m not sure who was spying on whom here, to be honest; we’ll call it a draw. Unlike the kingfishers on the exact same day, the light and the shooting distance was in my favor at least.

great blue heron Ardea herodias in front of spray of marsh reeds
Just a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) using the spray of reeds behind it to try and show off, obviously a case of peacock envy, according to Freud.

And finally, a couple of still photos from the same time that I was capturing video.

bald eagle Haliaeetus leucocephalus fending off attack from northern harrier Circus hudsonius, Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, New York
This was better than 330 meters off (I measured it with the map afterward,) so cropped significantly because even 600mm can’t handle that distance easily. It’s a bald eagle of course (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) fending off the attacks of a pair of northern harriers (Circus hudsonius.) The eagle was trying to mind its own business, but the nest of the harriers must have been close by, because they wanted the eagle gone; I watched their attacks for several minutes.

bald eagle Haliaeetus leucocephalus fending off attack from pair of northern harriers Circus hudsonius, Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, New York
A little wider here to show the pair in the air, alternating on their strafing runs even after the eagle hopped down to the lower limb; I never saw either make contact, though there was at least one close call when the eagle was too slow in raising its beak in warning. While there, with the much smaller view through the camera, I thought I saw the telltale white rump, and examining the photos afterward confirmed my identification. You can see the white rump of the male over to the right, at the base of the tail, while other frames of the female (not as dynamic as these,) show her largely white underbody and underwing coloration with the dark trailing edges.

The building in the background, by the way, is the Refuge visitor center, recognizable by the purple martin houses alongside, those large white boxes on poles – it is nearly three kilometers off, on the opposite side of this part of the refuge. All of that in between is marsh and bog, the soggy region off the northern tip of Cayuga Lake. These particular photos were taken from an observation platform next to the interstate, right alongside the excellent eagle sculpture by James Seaman, that we discovered was damaged by high winds not long after we’d visited and is presently in for repairs.

bald eagle sculpture by James Seamn in Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, New York
Anyway, now we should be done with the NY photos. Probably. I think…

Just because, part 43

I’ve got a longer post, the last tattered remnants of the trip to, you know, the state and not the city, but that’ll take some writing, and I’ve had these images sitting in the folder for a little while now, so you get this quickie.

unidentified dragonfly silhouetted against sunset reflection in pond
I went over to the pond, oh, eight days ago now, since the sunset looked a little promising. As usual, that promise was broken and dashed, since the sunset performed quite poorly, but while there, I did this quick abstract of a dragonfly. This was not against the sky, but the reflection of it in the water, using the Canon 18-135 STM at 135mm – I liked the faint difference in sharpness between the dragonfly’s twig and the surrounding leaves, courtesy of the shorter depth of field at f5.7. But what I really liked was the focus, which was bang-on, all credit to the autofocus. What you see above is full frame, while below is an inset, almost full resolution.

unidentified dragonfly in detail silhouette
That’s some mighty nice detail right there, sure enough. Any sharper and it’d scratch your screen.

Can’t leave ’em alone

… but c’mon, would you be letting these pics just sit around in the interests of ‘diversity?’

Last night, I went over to the neighborhood pond again, but this time with a slightly more specific reason, which actually turned out to be beneficial. We’ll get to that in a second.

juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea perched readily on leaf
The juvenile green treefrogs (Hyla cinerea) were just as active as before, perhaps even more so, and easy enough to get a few action shots of. I wasn’t intending to do a full photo session, but it was effortless (well, for, you know, an experienced, accomplished macro photographer) to snag a few pics, and I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. But what’s that peeking in at lower left?

juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea with finger for scale
It’s The Girlfriend’s forefinger, slowly creeping into the frame to provide scale, and the frog was not disturbed by it (though granted, she moved very slowly and silently, and did not make contact with the frog or the leaves.) I had taken her over there because she never saw the previous sessions and really needed to witness just how many there were, once you got used to watching for their diminutive presences. I’d been thinking of trying to get my own finger into a pic, on any of the earlier sessions, but the Mamiya 80mm macro requires manual aperture activation of a spring-loaded lever, so taking my hand away to appear in the frame would mean shooting with a wide-open-aperture, reducing depth-of-field down significantly and requiring a commensurate adjustment to the flash output (these are all shot at f16, 1/200 second, with a fixed flash output.) I do have a project to have the aperture lever lock into place when needed, but it hasn’t been tackled yet. So The Girlfriend provided the simpler solution.

juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea coaxed onto The Girlfriend's hand for another scale shot
In fact, we even managed to coax a different frog directly onto her hand for a few frames, where it sat cooperatively and with no apparent concern (yes, she kept her hand over the leaves in case the frog panicked and jumped away.) Once I had my shots, we had to coax the frog off of her hand again, gently nudging it onto a leaf. It’d be nice if all my subjects were so easy to work with.

I considered doing video, since the frogs were active enough to actually have something to show – most times, what you see in the still photo is exactly what any video would look like, unless they leap away. But yesterday evening, they were actually wandering around and climbing a bit, and demonstrating their gangly, bow-legged gait is something I’ve long wanted to do (without resorting to my own efforts at pantomime,) so I returned a bit later with the video cage. Alas, the batteries for the video light were lower than expected and inadequate for the amount of light necessary for 60 fps, so I had to give it up, but it also told me that I’d need a tripod – too much wandering in and out of focus, not helped by the wide-open aperture that would be needed. Have to try another night.

juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea peering away between leaves
This one did an expressive pose among the leaves, peeping through as if the parents were watching a cool-sounding movie, so I didn’t hesitate. And wonder of wonders, I could actually get to the other side without having to crawl into thick undergrowth or wade into the pond (all of this takes place right on the water’s edge, no doubt alongside their recent emergence from tadpole stage.)

same juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea seen from other side
Considering how difficult I’d had it a few days ago trying to get a decent portrait angle without them turning away, backing into shadow, or simply leaping to another branch, this kind of behavior is most welcome. So yeah, another rut, but if I gots the subject, I shoots the subject, and it works better in close sequence rather than delaying the posts until a later time. Plus you have the dates to know what time of year this kind of thing tends to take place. As I’ve said before, I can continue justifying this if you like…

Glutton for punishment?

I know I am. That’s why you’ll see me down at the lake in a few nights, because the Perseids meteor shower is peaking on August 12th, but of course, you’re likely to still see some within a few days before or after, so whenever the conditions suit you, have at it.

The nicer bit is, the moon will be a waxing crescent, so setting in the early part of the evening and long gone by midnight, which is when the best opportunities begin. The satellites, of course, will still be there, but again, past midnight fewer of them show because the sun is blocked by the Earth for all but the farthest ones, or those nearer the poles.

You have plenty of time to plan, so boot up Stellarium or check out Heavens Above and see what satellites might go through for your area. Or just scout out some prime locations to do long exposures within, preferably something with a nice foreground – maybe you’ll get extremely lucky and get a nice brilliant bolide over top of something scenic. The possibilities are endless! Extremely thin, granted, and requiring a shitload of luck, but still endless – an infinitely long hair.

One of these days, I’ll have an image to illustrate these announcements…

I did

Meaning, I did go back out to see how things looked after the rain, as I closed the previous post with. However, since these are displayed in reverse order, newest first, this post appears above that one and well away from that simple statement, ruining the continuity and requiring all this explanation. Plus there’s no sense of building drama or developing photo accomplishments, unless you’re reading these as soon as they post. Man, I can’t tell you how often simple formatting issues cramp my style…

All that aside, more froglets.

juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea on stem
I shot two photos purposefully for scale comparison, keeping the magnification the same for each (easy enough to do with a manual focus lens – these are at closest focus for the Mamiya 80mm macro, without the extension tube.) Above is the juvenile, while below is an adult found less than half a meter off. Maybe someday I’ll be able to get both in the same frame.

adult green treefrog Hyla cinerea on sapling
You should already know that adults don’t get more than 60mm in length, roughly the same size as the one seen here (even though that’s a different species.)

This time around, though, the frogs were being much more dynamic in their poses, and not leaping away half as often. Was this due to the rain, or was I being more inconspicuous, or something else entirely? Got me, but I’ll take advantage of it all the same.

wet juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea spread across weeds
I’m pleased with this pose, partially because I know they won’t hold it for long and will typically leap away within a few seconds – which this one did. Before that happened, I captured this nice ‘action’ shot that also shows the abundant moisture and gives a hint of scale, since you can see the water forming ‘webs’ across the joints and a nice droplet at the bottom of that flowering sprig. Also note how transparent that uppermost foot is. Kewl.

juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea sitting up on reed
A note about behavior. Treefrogs show no curiosity at all, and generally display two types of response to approach by a photographer (or at least, by me): Getting away, or hunkering down in place, legs tucked, and pretending they’re just a brilliant green, shiny, striped, bump on a log. So when this one actually sat up higher as if trying to see something better, right as I was lining up directly in front for the portrait angle, I was a little surprised. I’m not sure what that was about, but again, I’ll take it.

bronze juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea preparing to leap
Just a lovely color variation. Is this what writers means when they refer to someone as a “bronze goddess?” It’s certainly what I’m going to imagine from now on.

Seriously, the color variations were all over the place, and I’m not sure how much control the frogs have over this; is it largely genetic, or do they alter it to suit the situation, and if so, how quickly does this take place? I’m fairly certain that, if it does occur, it’s much slower than the Carolina anoles, because I’ve watched that happen – it can take place in a few seconds. I’ve never been able to keep track of an individual frog, or even differentiate one, over a period of days to see if they change and when but, judging from the variants that I see in the same locations where I’ve been observing a particular one, it seems to be occurring. Annnddd now I have a new project.

juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea looking up belligerently
The faintly belligerent expression, coupled with that one leg sweeping down in a smooth curve to open toes as if it just swatted at something, prompted me to call this one, “Damn Biplanes.” Hopefully that reference isn’t lost.

[Another note: I wanted an upward angle for one of my subjects this morning, and spotted this one in a decent position to exploit, but like most of them, it was quite low to the ground, which is still wet from the rain. I hadn’t thought to bring along a ground pad, essentially a tough sheet of vinyl that I use to prevent my ass from getting wet, so I was endeavoring to get the correct angle while sacrificing only my knee to the muddy terrain. I couldn’t quite get as low as I wanted, and it was an awkward and uncomfortable position, but the result is more than satisfactory.]

And finally, we revisit the molting mantis, because as I passed, it was in a nice position for the portrait, and I couldn’t resist.

juvenile Carolina mantis Stagmomantis carolina posed underneath leaf
I’m pretty sure this is the exact same leaf that it molted on so, lazy day or so for the mantis. Hell, even I get around more than that, and I have a handy fridge of food. Then again, from the expanded size just in the past week, it appears to be finding enough food, so who am I to judge?

Not even a day

Man, I didn’t even have the ‘Sort’ folders cleaned out for an entire 24 hours before I had to add to them again. Not that this is a problem – I can quit anytime I like…

Last night, I was poking around the yard a little by the light of the headlamp and ran across a couple of subjects worthy of getting the camera for, and so I did, crazy and unpredictable person that I am. One of those is below:

Carolina mantis Stagmomantis carolina in middle of molt
You’ve seen this one before, because of course you watch all of my videos the moment they’re posted (surely one of the two people subscribed) – this is the second mantis getting favored by my generous misting, a Carolina mantis (Stagmomantis carolina.) The scale is difficult to discern here, as it was before except for the water drops, but it was roughly 40mm in length now, nearly twice the size that it was earlier; maybe I should have cut back on the water a little. I just confirmed that measurement by going out while typing this to check, since it hasn’t left that spot now almost a day later. Yes, it’s the same one, found in almost the exact same place in an area sparse for mantids of any kind. This is the latter stages of molting, with the exoskeleton that formerly covered its entire body sitting there towards the top of the frame. That never seems right, thought I guess insects might feel the same if they see a discarded bodysuit of ours lying around. I bet they do.

Earlier that day, I’d been at the neighborhood pond briefly and saw a lot of activity among the higher reeds and plants on the water’s edge – lots of stems swaying suddenly and wildly from the jumps and landings of something, though I was having a hard time actually seeing what; I’d spotted both a tiny treefrog and a grasshopper when searching, so it could have been either, but I suspected the frogs. So, after the mantis, I went across to see what showed by the headlamp, knowing it would be easier to spot the source if they couldn’t see me (the light not being identified as a threat.) As I suspected…

juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea on reeds
… a lot of juvenile green treefrogs (Hyla cinerea,) newly emerged from tadpole stage, were loitering about the various plants like hooligans. I cropped wider on this one to show that one leaf, which gives an impression of size a little better – the largest of the frogs (and this was not one of them) didn’t exceed 20mm in length. They had the widest variety of colors that I’ve seen, from brilliant gold to almost mud grey, but all with that faint translucence that helps show that they’re young.

It took little effort to see scads of them, and only a little playing around to communicate this photographically.

three juvenile green treefrogs Hyla cinerea in close proximity
Inserting anything for scale would have spooked them off, but these are just plain ol’ planty plants, garden weed kind of things – I wouldn’t quite have been able to touch the outermost two with the fingers of my spread hand, but my foot would have spanned the gap.

two juvenile green treefrogs Hyla cinerea hanging out on reeds
I got lucky with these two in that they were close together, facing upward, and not spooked off by my close approach (I make every effort to be unobtrusive, but leaning in amongst all the plants without disturbing them, as well as keeping camera and hands out of the beam of the headlamp to not betray my nature, while obtaining a clear shot at a decent angle, isn’t always successful.) These reeds probably measure about 3mm in diameter.

very tiny juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea hiding in leaf shadows
This was the tiniest, literally small enough to perch on your fingernail, but in my endeavors to get close enough for a good shot, the frog became suspicious and backed up further within the shelter of the leaves, making it impossible to get the flash at a decent angle – yeah, the flash unit on its separate arm with attached softbox also figures into the equation, and can also disturb leaves – the quarters are tight when you try to get in close. A ringflash would work in such circumstances, but I largely stopped using one because I never liked the way it rendered the light, plus the highlights and reflections look ridiculous.

lone juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea looking unconvincingly earnest
This is my favorite by far, not just for the detail and the color rendition (if a little bright,) but especially for the expression – I could have saved it for a Profiles post, but naaahhh. It has that unconvincingly guileless look of the kid that’s listening to admonitions to behave while you’re gone, and you just know you’re gonna be taking away a Playstation when you return.

I’m motivated to go back out and see how things look now, after a decent rain (finally,) but wanted to get this post out before midnight. Can’t have too many gaps – people will think I died…

Profiles of Nature 31

unidentified mating grasshoppers possibly Orphulella Zlatina and Wyeduck
You tell us, which is most horrid: The dread of the impending Profiles post, or the content that exceeds your worst imagination?

Doesn’t matter, really – we only ask to try and sound like we care. Today we meet the lovely and talented Zlatina: singer, dancer, actress, writer, and budding politician, along with her husband Wyeduck, who’s had a small part in two bombed TV pilots but manages to appear in nearly all of Zlatina’s promotional photos. It’s been fun watching the media trying to establish conjoined names for them. They met at a celebrity charity event and bonded over their mutual love of trashing Oprah, and the fact that there aren’t too many Orphulella at such events; they’re not even sure they are Orphulella, to be honest, since entomologists are never invited. Zlatina is a natural, well-rounded (ahem) talent, adapting easily to new challenges and always ready to push her boundaries, while Wyeduck flunked out of the acting school taught by the Olsen twins. Nonetheless, he believes he’s only inches from being discovered, not realizing that he’s already been discovered, much like that experimental eggplant casserole intentionally forgotten in the back of the fridge that no one wants to deal with right now. Zlatina, meanwhile, manages to glom onto every last fad and conspiracy droolpuddle that comes along, thinking that believing in things that almost no one else does makes her clever; she pronounces, “mainstream,” like most people say, “diaper blowout.” Some have speculated that this is why Zlatina’s agents allow Wyeduck to keep appearing, to draw attention away from her various soapboxes, but aside from that being yet another droolpuddle in itself, it would require talent agents to have reasoning powers; ’nuff said. Wyeduck’s favorite way to describe the USB-B connector shape is, “Six-sided, but not evenly,” while Zlatina’s is, “Almost like a little barn.”

Weeks. There’s weeks left. And only seven days in each. That’s like no time at all in between.

New York: A little more scenery

Let’s see – the photo and video sorting is all done (no small task, this,) tomorrow’s Profiles post is written created typed spawned… let’s have a handful of the remaining photos from the second New York trip. I didn’t do a lot of scenics this time around, partially because the weather wasn’t as cooperative, but I still snagged a few.

sunrise across docks on Cayuga Lake, NY
I don’t think I set my alarm to get up for sunrise even once on this trip, and most times I sleep well past it because I’m up into the wee hours of the morning on what I still consider the previous day. But having busy days, no internet access, and sleeping with the windows open meant I was up at sunrise every day, I believe, even when it was raining. The birds just outside the window, getting noisy at first light, probably helped more than a little. This is, of course, Cayuga Lake, one of the Finger Lakes, though you’re only seeing across the cove here.

How about if we face almost entirely in the opposite direction, the following day?

red sun just above horizon, Cayuga Lake, NY
This is the same sunset as the teaser photo here, and gives a little better impression of the lake, though the short focal length makes things look farther away than reality, while that other photo makes them look much closer – 18mm for this one, 85mm for the linked page. For the record, the lake is less than 2 km wide here.

scene along Cayuga-Seneca Canal, Seneca Falls, NY
We made it into Seneca Falls twice while there; this particular time while we were waiting for something to open. The weather couldn’t decide if it wanted to keep raining or clear up, and it actually started raining again while we were here, chasing us back to the car. This is the Cayuga-Seneca Canal, a branch of the Erie Canal system, and that bridge in the distance served as Frank Capra’s inspiration for the bridge scene in the schmaltzy It’s A Wonderful Life – possibly, anyway. I’d always heard it was the shooting location, which I found out recently is wrong, and now it appears that Seneca Falls being the inspiration for the fictional Bedford Falls in the film is all inference anyway, since Capra never said as much – he just spent time in Seneca Falls. Never mind that the women’s rights movement got its main impetus there, or any of the other history therein – it’s notable because of the movie. [Heavy sigh]

Seneca Knitting Mill on Cayuga-Seneca Canal, Seneca Falls, NY
There are a lot of older and historic buildings in Seneca Falls, many more than most of the surrounding towns and cities, but we weren’t really on a sightseeing tour, so I have only this. The Girlfriend and I did discuss what it would be like living in one, with the older structures and plumbing and the town breathing down your neck regarding their standards for historic buildings. It was bad enough living in an older house when I was growing up, with countless heating and insulation problems, frequent failures of the well pump, and so on. Thanks, give me a modern house anytime.

[Well, if you’re giving me a house, I’ll take whatever you got, but an older one would probably be sold off as soon as your back was turned, historic or not.]

band of clouds catching early sun at sunrise, Cayuga Lake, NY
Despite being out there ready, none of the sunrises really bowled me over this time around, even though on average they were performing better than here in NC around Walkabout Estates. Waiting for some good colors or sunbeams or anything, all I could work with on this morning was the golden light catching a band of lower clouds – even the birds avoided passing in a picturesque way.

One for curiosity’s sake.

doubled lightning bolt through window of Gatsby mansion, NY
During the somewhat frustrating electrical storm, one of the smaller bolts seen through the window of the Gatsby mansion displayed a curious trait. It looks like the camera moved during exposure, though you can see everything else is clear and sharp; it was actually the lightning (or perhaps more accurately, the air mass that it was in) that moved. This was after the fierce wind had rolled in, so it’s possible the charged air really did shift that much between the millisecond flashes of the bolt. The camera was on a tripod and I was even triggering with a remote release, so don’t go blaming me.

And one last one, on the lake again.

deep violet afterglow in sunset twilight across Cayuga Lake, NY
This is the same evening as the red sun shot above, but after getting the photos of the buck in the developing fog – I can’t knock these colors, as simple as it is. Somewhere within this view is where the major lightning strike occurred (not the one seen above, which is further off, but the one not exactly seen here,) though we weren’t on this dock then. Which is good – a huge bolt striking that point, or even closer on the water itself, is not how storms should be witnessed.

More of the shit I get up to

Back in 2015, I raised a question, or at least, pointed out that an answer could be determined, based on the details visible within a photo shown therein, reproduced in more detail below:

crescent moon by Union Station, Nashville, 1991
This was a photo that I took, with my cheesy little camera and crappy print film, while on a training seminar to Nashville, Tennessee, and in the post, I claimed that the date could be determined just from the details within the photo.

Which I did: November 9th, 1991. Maybe.

Okay, not all of that was from details within the photo, though I maintain that it could have been. Maybe. Given some more sources of info, anyway. But here’s how I arrived there.

First off, I knew it was 1991, because I bought a souvenir there that a psychotic girlfriend stole in 1992, and in 1990 I’d just moved to NC and wasn’t even working for the place that sponsored the trip. And I knew it was late in the year since one of the taller buildings was advertising ‘Visit xmas Village’ by leaving the lights on in certain offices at night. That’s about the extent of the information that I contributed through personal recollection, and I’m not sure these couldn’t have been determined from the photo. For instance, the clock tower is missing the statue of Mercury atop it, which pinned down at least a bracket of certain years.

Screenshot from Google Maps of Union Station, Nashville, TNThe shooting location was determined through Google Earth, confirmed through Google Maps Street View (normally, you could do this through Google Earth too, except that the latest versions don’t work in Linux, and Street View won’t work anymore on the older version that does work on Linux.) Most especially, the angles of the various points on the façade pinned down the spot on the sidewalk, within maybe a handful meters or less, which led the next step.

In Google Earth, the shooting angle and the compass direction of the moon could be determined from this latitude and longitude (222°, give or take – notice how the moon lines up directly above that chimney-like peak.) The clock reads 5:17, obviously PM from the afterglow towards the west, and Nashville is on Central Time.

I could not determine for sure the height that the moon was above the horizon, because I could find no info on how high that clock tower is, which would have given me the elevation of the moon. Eventually, I found a full height photo of Union Station (from ground to above the clock tower) with someone in the photo for a reference, and in GIMP translated the pixel position in rough length/height references. Very rough estimate: the clock sits 34 meters up.

Back to Google Earth. Measurement of the clock from my shooting location was about 147 meters. Some simple calculations (done with an online right-angle calculator, though, because my math skills are untrustworthy) gave an elevation for the moon of 13°. That info carried over into Stellarium, where I could input the location (including ground altitude) and the time, then begin sliding days back and forth until the moon got into the right position.

No day was a tight match, but this was not unexpected. Using Google Earth and Google Maps, with the Streetview function, to pin down the shooting location has some slop, especially since the vehicle producing their photographs obviously wasn’t on the sidewalk where I was, and there’s a bit of wide-angle lens distortion from their photos. The same can be said for the aerial photos – change the dates on any given location with taller buildings and watch the positions shift depending on how far they were from the camera axis. Significant changes in distance produce only trivial changes in apparent angle, and of course, my tower height measurements were pretty off-the-cuff. But November 9th has the moon at 222° compass bearing, just over 15° elevation, and that’s the closest I can produce for that particular time of day (perhaps the most accurate part of all this) and location. I feel comfortable with it, at least until I can get anything more accurate to work with. November 9th of 1991 was a Saturday, which fits with the three-day seminar as well.

Anyway, that was two hours of sleuthing for no good reason, other than to see if I could do it with the tools at hand.

Waited too long

Early this morning, what I still consider “last night,” I was getting bleary but knew that I might have a shot at the moon after about 1:30 AM, so I hung out until it would have risen above the horizon, which around Walkabout Estates is fairly high – there are trees all over the place. As I said a couple of days ago, in two days the sun would be setting on Tycho, and thus I’d have my chance to get sunset (instead of sunrise, two weeks hence) on the central peak. On cue, I gathered the long lens and tripod and went out to the front lawn, where there’s a narrow window when the moon is visible down the road before it enters the neighbors’ trees. The moon was there, burnt orange, but partially obscured by clouds and, as I watched, disappeared within. Nertz.

I waited it out though, and lo! it reappeared, nice and clear for at least a few minutes. Still orange and very dim, so I boosted ISO, went wide open (which is f6.3 for the Tamron 150-600,) and fired off a number of frames, using mirror lock-up with at least two seconds of delay, usually longer. The dimness did not help my manual focusing, but there were still enough details visible that a few of the frames were critically sharp.

orange waning crescent moon with no light on Tycho's central peak
This is right after 2 AM, and the detail is fine (this is admittedly full resolution) – enough to show that I was too late. The deep crater down low on the terminator is Tycho; see that point of light on the peak in the center of the crater? Yeah, me neither – the sun had already set low enough to no longer illuminate the peak. If you’d been standing on that mountaintop, you would only be seeing the pink afterglow in the sky above the moon, no vestige of the sun itself anymore. Okay, no, you probably wouldn’t see anything more than a faint haze of pale light hugging the horizon, from the tiny bit of dust orbiting the moon, since it takes atmosphere to produce anything more. But yeah, I should have been out there sooner.

In all reality, the sun may have set for that peak hours ago, long before it would have been in sight for my longitude, since a lunar day is nearly a month long – I don’t have software slick enough to pin it down that tightly. And that’s okay – it’s a quest partially because it is difficult to time correctly. And partially because I’m weird and have some peculiar obsession over it. After all, I got sunset on Maurolycus, which is where the In Crowd vacation; Tycho is for poseurs and the riff-raff.

On a whim, I went out just now, while typing this (well, I paused and left the computer behind in the office,) to see what the moon looked like now, at 11:30 AM – you know, to make the post really quality. And it looks far worse than this pic, because we’re somewhere between hazy and overcast right now and they ain’t no damn thing to see. But I made the effort, and that counts, right?

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