A post

April 11, 2020 Al Denelsbeck

I have found myself fairly busy for the past several days, but not in a way that can be reflected here too well, so with a few minutes to spare, I’m just doing a small update for my millions of imaginary followers, who have already flooded my inbox with imaginary e-mails asking me if I’m okay and when the hell I’m going to put up something new. This is what you get for being demanding.

Between work – that other job that helps pay bills and is in that way alone essential – and various house projects, I’ve been not only busy, but beating myself up a bit, crawling under cars and the house and up on the roof while the weather was amenable, which it no longer is, having turned colder again, so now I won’t be chasing any other critters for a few days even when I do have time. It’ll change back though, soon enough.

I’ve also been helping The Girlfriend with her projects, among them doing some video shooting and editing – not like I’m some kind of authority on it, but among the two people that she can actually ask for assistance right now, I’m the only one who’s done anything of the sort; the most experienced video editor in the household according to JD Power and Associates (no, that’s not at all true, because we didn’t give them a dime to make that claim.) Given that I still have to render video projects multiple times to find the balance of size and quality that I’m after, plus the search for the right free background music, this takes a long time for a brief video clip, but that’s the nature of the beast.

I’ve done a couple of local excursions, really not finding anything worth an entire post, but the occasional bit here and there.

There’s the photo sorting, deleting all of those that don’t pass my exacting and stringent standards (let it go) and relegating the remainder into appropriate categories. I’d put this off for a little too long as usual, but it’s going faster than anticipated and I should be done with it today. This is also the opportunity to catch those images of interest that I didn’t immediately write about and set them aside for a later post, but most of the worthy ones have already been featured here.

And then the ongoing, little things, an ever-changing list. Among the items awaiting attention on my desk or otherwise:

Getting Linux to play nice with some exterior IP cameras to monitor the property, for critters and assholes;

Getting a webcam to work with Linux too, because I may be engaging in some online games and meetings soon. No, I don’t have a laptop with that shit built in, because laptops suck (just for the sake of it, I have three harddrives, 10Gb of RAM, expanded USB ports, and a multi-card reader installed on my system, all to support my normal activities, so you can keep your portable folding toys);

Cleaning the sensor in the 30D, which is notorious for attracting dust, though my habit of changing lenses in less-than-clean-room conditions just might be contributing to this;

Planting and transplanting a bunch of stuff – we’re a little behind on that too;

I was recently given a Bio Orb, a glass globe containing live dinoflagellates, so the obvious next step is to obtain photos of them through the microscope. The idea of capturing their bioluminescence is intriguing but most likely impossible without special equipment that I do not have. Nonetheless, I’ll at least make the attempt;

Along the same lines, I’ve had a zoom magnifier head for some time, having picked it up from university surplus, a bit of lab equipment that would fill the gap between macro lenses and microscopes very nicely, if I can get it in a useful mount – I’m almost there now, so pics and results will be forthcoming once I get the whole affair in order;

And there’s a big project that I’m not going to say a lot about right now, mostly because this may take a while to come to fruition, not at all helped by a) going about this in no approved manner, b) trying to tackle multiple aspects at once, and c) requiring a certain mood, motivation, and block of free time. When it all comes together, however, you’ll be sure to hear about it here.

So hang loose, more is on the way, and in the meantime, I leave you with another mantis image that I neglected to put into the appropriate post about a week ago. How could I miss this one?

On this date 15

April 8, 2020April 7, 2020 Al Denelsbeck

Way back in the shady mists of time, called by some, “2013,” we have this image of an unidentified red ant species. Age has ravaged my memory now, so I cannot recall the exact circumstances, but there’s this nagging suspicion that the nights had been fairly cold when I turned over a rock in the morning and revealed a colony of rather large red ants; their sluggishness from the temperature allowed me to draw in very close without having to try and lock focus onto any typical antlike hyperactivity. Now, I said, “rather large,” but that’s as far as ants go in North America, which is a maximum of 10mm or so in length – much better than the tiny red ants I find sometimes, but not exactly massive either. And I must note, this is the entire frame. I believe I was using the 45mm from the Mamiya M645 series bodies, reversed, to get this magnification, and I haven’t done that in a while, having switched over to the reversed 28-105. But that (broken) lens has a fixed aperture, and the Mamiya 45mm has an adjustable one, so perhaps I should start using it again.

Below is a full-resolution crop of the same frame, to show the eye details.

At this resolution, it could perhaps be sharper, but that’s not too shabby at all, especially for a handheld shot – how often do you get to see the individual ommatidia of an ant? And while the depth of field doesn’t seem huge, it still seems better than the 28-105. I’ll have to run some tests, only not on ants, unless they’re dead. That’s not bigotry – some of my best friends are ants – it’s just a movement and frustration thing.

Another, from the next year.

Nothing terribly exciting here, and no real accomplishment – I include it for the color and diversity, because the other potential images were more arthropods. But it marks one thing in particular: this is right after I purchased the (used) Canon 30D body, in fact the 28th frame. I have no idea how many frames it had fired off before I got it, but I’ve kept track of what I did, at least. This body had been my workhorse camera until just three months or so back when I got the (used – I almost never buy new) Canon 7D body, but it still comes into play when I need a second camera, like when the 7D is being used for video.

How much use was that, you ask?

This is also from this date, only now it’s from 2017. I said the flower above was the 28th pic; this was the 40,566th. In three years. At present, I’ve shot 59,924 frames through it, but bear in mind, in there I also got a T2i body to have something that would also do video – it’s extraneous now, and may be sold soon. That one only has 5,600 frames that I’ve run through it.

While I’m at it, the top photo of the ant was done through the original grey bodied Digital Rebel, the DReb as I call it, or the 300D as it’s known in other countries – that reached 61,000 images before I retired it. I suppose that makes it more of a workhorse than the 30D…

One more trivial bit: this post from 2011 actually marks the oldest digital photos that I have from this date, and the first time capturing newborns mantids in detail. Things change (he says tritely.)

A little Monday evening activity

April 6, 2020 Al Denelsbeck

So the day was bright and clear all day, barely a hint of cloud in the sky, and I got a few outdoor tasks done, but had switched to indoor work after the allergies went completely berserk, so I was surprised in late afternoon by The Girlfriend telling me that it was pouring out. Seems we’re getting Florida weather right now, the fast-moving cell that sneaks in and dumps a deluge and gets away before anyone can snag an ID; in ten minutes the sun was back out, though the sky remained a bit scattered with clouds. I made it a point to be out a little later on to catch the sunset, hoping for some nice clouds to play with.

You can already see this coming, can’t you? Yep – not a single wisp of cloud in the sky come sunset, which makes things extremely boring. But as a commercial airliner passed over at high altitude, someplace a few hundred kilometers away seemed to be getting some colors in their sky, because the jet and contrail turned brilliant pink, filtered by clouds well over the horizon. Well, you take what you get.

Soon afterward, The Girlfriend and I watched a green heron (Butorides virescens) spook from a perch in the trees and fly a short distance away to land at the edge of the pond. It was already too dark to do much about it, but I kept an eye on the bird in case it decided to return to a perch nearby, since it was closing in on roosting time. Instead, it flew a very short distance to land at the water’s edge in a highly accessible spot, and stayed put even as evening walkers (kind of like White Walkers except not at all) breezed past, so I made my careful way in that direction, to find the heron perched low and motionless right out in the open.

No color at all from the sky, but at least it was throwing enough light down to be reflected from the water and give me a sleek silhouette. Green herons are notoriously shy birds, especially around this pond where I have stalked them for years with very few good photos to show for it. But I moved closer a step or two at a time, and it did nothing but ease forward ever-so-slightly, watching the water for minnows.

Notice the lower and more stretched profile, and the hind leg now showing further out behind it – this is a lot easier to see in comparison, after the fact, than it was when I was slipping closer myself. All of these, by the way, were with the carry-around 100-300 L, since I hadn’t gone out to chase birds and so didn’t bring the big lens. They’re cropped a little but not a lot – I got within five or six meters of the bird, remarkably close given their propensity.

But silhouettes only go so far, so I popped up the little on-camera flash, outside of its proper working distance (which isn’t much,) to throw a little light on the heron from the shady side where I stood – there was no chance at all of my getting around to the twilightlit side.

The effect, I have to admit, is pretty cool, subtle and a little ominous from that reflection in the eye. And the heron never twitched at all from this, intent as it was on its hunting.

I had to tweak that image a little, correcting for the blue twilight and brightening it a tad, and it really doesn’t look bad for all that. It’s a shameless edit, but at least I’m telling you it is. That makes it okay.

And it does give you a better idea of their actual coloration, but yeah, I need to be out there stalking them a lot more often. I do have some decent photos of the species, and if you want to see them, click here for the list.

In a moment, the heron made a strike at a fish, coming up empty-beaked, and abandoned its stealthy demeanor and pose, standing more upright and doing its best to imitate an indignant kiwi by shaking the water from its feathers.

And that was it – in a flash it had flown off again for another spot, and the photo session was over. But hey, it made up for the crappy sunset.

Now, wait! Isn’t it Moon Face Monday? I’ve been forgetting all about that! The moon was just appearing through the trees as I turned my attention away from the heron (actually, The Girlfriend pointed it out, so credit to her,) and I positioned myself to snag a shot through the intervening branches.

If you look closely at the bottom left, you can see some definition from mountains and craters, indicating that we’re not quite at full phase, but another indication is that it was fairly high in the sky not long after sunset; at full, the moon pretty much rises as the sun sets, and vice versa. Again, this is the 100-300 L, handheld at that, and not an intentional moon shooting session. We’ll compare that to a shot taken four days ago on April 2nd.

Now, this is with the long lens, the Tamron 150-600 to be exact – I took it while I was out trying to capture Venus among the Pleiades cluster. Which I also got, but given the huge difference in relative magnitude, either Venus would be blown out or the stars of Pleiades would be ridiculously dim, plus there was the motion of the Earth to contend with for longer exposures, so none of the images that I obtained were worthwhile; further such attempts will wait until I have a decent astronomical tracking mount. But the moon looks nice, and it’s a good illustration of how much the phase changes in four days.

Big honkin’ bug post

April 3, 2020 Al Denelsbeck

That title’s an homage to a coworker of mine from history back, who described a spider in that manner and sparked a bizarre mental image…

So around Walkabout Studios, as I said earlier, are arranged several egg sacs (“oothecas”) of Chinese mantises (Tenodera sinensis,) specifically so I can photograph them in various life stages, including hatching. Along for the ride are two Carolina mantis (Stagmomantis carolina) egg sacs that arrived with our shed, and an egg cluster of wheel bugs (Arilus cristatus,) all of which I’ve been trying to keep my eyes on. The first of the Chinese mantis sacs hatched out not quite a week back, but I was a hair too late to capture their moment of emergence. But then, checking on the wheel bug eggs a few days ago, I found I was a bit too late for them, too, seeing that it was liberally clouded with bebe wheels. When hatched, they’re yellow-orange in body color, which changes to black within a few hours (the abdomen stays brilliant red for a few weeks though,) so finding them with black bodies means I was at least a few hours too late.

I was hoping to see some late arrivals and set up both the still-camera high mag macro rig and the video rig, but captured very little of interest; in the process of trying to clear the area beneath the fence of undergrowth and poison ivy (should have done that sooner, but to be honest it wasn’t growing much more than a week ago,) I spooked the spidery sprogs around the edge of the fence and only had a foolhardy few to work with. I did what I could, but wrote off any detailed sequences or video for this species.

Giving that up, I was passing a white azalea bush that overhangs the fence and stopped to do a few flower photos, and suddenly realized that I was staring at another mantis egg cluster at eye level, smack in the process of hatching. Well, alrighty then! I got the taller tripod down and set up shop, and this time, my timing was bang on. This is a much longer video than the previous, because I was able to catch some specific events.

I have to note that, after a couple of years of unsuccessful attempts, including seven egg cases that I paid for and never hatched, I was able to get what I was after this year with an egg case that I didn’t even know was there…

But we need some more detail pics of course.

Dead center is one at the moment of emergence – well, that all depends on how you measure it, because it’s been seeing daylight for a minute or three at this point, but it’s also not yet out, so whatevs. An earlier hatchling hangs out on the case above, observing I guess, and one that appears to have gotten trapped and died, brown and dessicated, is immediately to the right. You can also see some of the molted “chaff” hanging from its anchor thread, appearing to be erupting from the head of the new emergent, but that’s just coincidental.

I went out a little later on when the light had shifted for some wider shots.

Most of what you see above are ones that didn’t make it, for whatever reasons – tangled in the threads, or simply not viable, or what have you. But there are a few live ones, easily distinguished by their upright stance and antennae and so on. Then we’ll back off to see the blossom at the end of that branch.

A handful of them were hanging out under cover just above the case, while plenty of others adopted similar poses at various other nearby locations – some of them lose their footing and drop, only to snag leaves further down, and even if they make it all the way to the ground (better than a meter and a half from here,) they have so little weight and momentum that it has no ill effect whatsoever.

But I also backed off a little more to show the context, and how easy it would be to miss the case itself if you’re weren’t looking carefully.

I probably sound like I’m being defensive for not spotting this earlier, but this actually sits outside our fence where I almost never go. Still, I got the crucial moments that I was after, so believe what you want.

I couldn’t resist the expressive posture I found, either.

It certainly looks like it’s viewing the egg case intently, but I suspect it simply dropped something off the leaf…

I went out front to the rosemary bush to check on the new arrivals from a few days previously, and couldn’t actually find any – the bush was notably bare, and while I will certainly admit to missing a few, given their size, their ability to conceal themselves, and the density of the bush, I wouldn’t miss dozens. They appear to have abandoned the rosemary, leading me to believe that they didn’t like it, but I have plenty of photos of previous mantids hanging out on the same bushes, so I have my doubts. However, on the purple azalea bush nearby – one much smaller and offering much less concealment and camouflage than a rosemary – I did at least spot one.

The color made a nice backdrop, I admit – the various azaleas are vivid this spring.

Okay, for each photo, I type a meta-tag description that includes the subject’s common and Latin names, and I’m damned tired of typing “Tenodera sinensis,” so let’s move on.

I did a little poking around the back yard afterward, both examining the other cases and looking for further activity on this gorgeous day, and on the gardenia bushes found a few other little subjects.

Underneath one leaf sat what may be a long-legged sac spider (Cheiracanthium inclusum) in a breeding nest, probably – leave it to me to pin down all the details. Sac spiders are rather intriguing; some of them may have a potent venom, in that some people have reported strong reactions to them, and are occasionally considered dangerous, though not to the extent of widows or recluses, but among entomologists the jury is still out, it seems. I’ve seen these all over the backyard, but they’re small enough that even if this particular species’ bite was reactive, the circumstances where they could successfully bite someone are few and far between, so I don’t worry about it. The telltale features are the pale and translucent body color and the over-length forelegs.

Under another leaf on the same bush sat something that has yet to be identified.

I had to turn the leaf over to expose them to the sun (that’s my thumbtip in the corner,) and it was making them antsy, so these shots lack the detail I can usually obtain. I have only the faintest idea what these might be, because they resemble the springtails that I’ve found on water surfaces, but they’re much bigger and of course not on or near the water. The larger one among the smaller gives the impression of a mother and brood, but the closer look makes them all appear to be juvenile/nymph form, so that pretty much exhausts my guesses regarding the species, and I simply don’t feel like submitting them to BugGuide.net right now – this post has been delayed long enough, plus I’m not that interested in them anyway. We’ll just call them doodlebugs because it seems appropriate and leave it at that. Professionalism all the way.

On this date 14

April 1, 2020March 30, 2020 Al Denelsbeck

Eight years ago this very day, I was endeavoring not to get bitten while attempting to actually photograph the bitey bits. I succeeded in the former but failed in the latter, still producing this enigmatic (so I say) portrait.

Those red marks are a clue of course, and the fact that they’re markS and not A mark tells you this is the northern variant – specifically, a northern black widow (Latrodectus variolus.) The hourglass on the belly of the northern subspecies is split, broken, divorced, call it what you like, but it’s two marks instead of one, with some additional markings on the back because the northerner is an attention whore. We have both species around here, by the way. What I was trying for were the chelicerae, the fangs, which are remarkably small, tucked tightly to the face, and just as jet black as the rest of the spider (save for the red bits,) which makes them next to impossible to photograph. This was not helped by not having a macro flash rig at this point that was adequate to the job, though it did produce a menacing reflection from two of the eyes, which is perhaps spookier than if it got four or eight reflections. In most circumstances, not being bitten by a black widow is quite easy, because they’re shy and tend to avoid contact enthusiastically, but irritating them like I was doing by trying to get the precise angle needed for the shot is a great way of failing to not be bitten. Some indication of this state of mind of the spider can be seen emanating from the spinnerets: harassed widows will emit a nasty-tasting fluid among their web strands to discourage those that haven’t heard of their normal reputation. Expert that I am, I avoided any taste of that, too.

There’s another reason for posting this image: my cousin’s birthday is today – no kidding – and he’s allergic to spiders. I figured he’d like a closeup of something that he wouldn’t normally get very close to.

And another, from the exact same day – busy busy busy! (Actually, it’s a very rare day indeed that, if I actually start taking photos, I only photograph one subject.) And technically this is two frames, blended together into an animated gif (pronounced “gesh-TALT”). The sun went behind a cloud while I was shooting, and the two frames were so close together except for the lighting effects that I had to overlay them – a slight tweak in position lined them up perfectly. The appearance and disappearance of the shadows is obvious, but if you look closely, you might also be able to see the color register change, especially if you look at the body of the skink itself (oh, yeah, this is an American five-lined skink again, Plestiodon fasciatus.) The shaded version gets a bit of a blue register to it. I’m used to spotting this now, plus I had the two images side by side in the folders to compare, which is what prompted me to overlay them so it was more obvious, rather than simply showing them alongside one another where the effect might not be as clear to those not used to doing color corrections.

Just because, part 34

March 31, 2020 Al Denelsbeck

I should be working on video editing, or even sorting, but I don’t feel like it. Plus there’s this thing about the number of images uploaded for March, which is gonna be a pretty big number, to a four-year old anyway.

So another handful of pichers, without a lot of exposition.

It was a warm and sunny day yesterday (totally unlike today,) and the turtles were taking advantage of it. This was shot from quite a distance off with the long lens, because I knew they’d bail as soon as I got even a wee bit close. I was right.

But these guys hung out a little longer, allowing me some more fartistic frames.

It would have been better on a perfectly still day when the water wasn’t rippling at all, but this isn’t bad, and it’s rare that we get those kind of wind conditions, at least not with good light – it occasionally happens first thing in the morning.

It took a slow approach to net the next photo too, and the entire time I was being watched warily.

These are double-crested cormorants (Phalacrocorax auritus,) so named because during breeding season (so, for like six weeks out of any year) the males develop two lines of white feathers on their heads. I have yet to ever see this, despite the hundreds of cormorants that I’ve found, so either I’m seeing an awful lot of females, or there’s a mighty big hoax going on. But I still like the double portrait, and the fact that the eye-color can be discerned. Soon afterward they bailed on me too.

And finally, the wisteria is in bloom, great hanging bunches of lavender flowers (just not lavender flowers,) and so I inject a little more color into the post.

That’s all.

Late but early

March 31, 2020 Al Denelsbeck

Wholly without intending, I have two more entries for the end of the month abstract – shot right at the end of the month, as in, this morning. However, the official post had already gone up by the time that I shot them (it was scheduled to appear at 1 AM,) so I’m just adding a post. There might even be another today, of photos that I shot yesterday, and it appears another video is coming soon too. But for now, we got these.

I was up early this morning, and ventured over to see what sunrise did, which was nothing due to light overcast skies. But while the light was still low, a handful of Canada geese (Branta canadensis) cruised in to land on the water, and I tracked them as they did so. The light was far too dim for a decent shutter speed, which resulted in yet another impressionistic rendering. Clicking on the image will take you to a larger version to show a little more detail.

And another, in sequence.

You can click on this one too.

I’ve long had a goal of capturing a goose or duck skid-landing on the water in good detail – obviously these do not qualify. The timing has to be right, the light good, the angle good, and the long lens affixed, and those various factors have not come together yet. But for now, we’ll go with the implied motion in these. I mean, you don’t really have a choice, do you? Except to go get your own…

March timeses on

March 31, 2020March 30, 2020 Al Denelsbeck

… or something like that. It’s end-of-month abstract time, is what I’m saying.

Our abstract here is a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) that I’d waited until the light was bad so the shutter would drag, and captured it on takeoff – this was all carefully planned to appear like impressionist brush strokes, y’ see. Really.

And another, because I got two that I liked in March. Well, felt appropriate for the purpose, anyway. I wouldn’t describe myself as ecstatic, per se.

During the productive botanical garden trip, I saw this tiny lily pad in a raised pond, surrounded by bubbles and sporting its own centerpiece of a water drop encapsulating pine pollen. I can’t say if it was the pollen that kept the bubbles intact up against the leaf, or if there was something else in the water affecting the viscosity, but I don’t need to understand it to take pichers of it (good thing, too.) It’s impossible to avoid having pollen in photos this time of year, so I embrace it. Cursingly, of course, kind of a reluctant embrace of a hated relative, carefully timed to be the minimum to prevent offense, teeth bared in an obviously-fake smile that no one dares call out, but embracing nonetheless.

BREAKING NEWS: We have a third, late entry for the end of the month, taken just hours earlier.

I’m fond of the bald cypress trees (Taxodium distichum) that can be found around the nearby pond in places, and noticed that they were now starting to leaf out. Picking one verdant branch to shoot along, I liked the horizontal pattern, the short depth, and the sweeping curve, so it slides in at the last minute.

Someone will be cooperative

March 30, 2020March 30, 2020 Al Denelsbeck

That’s what you can count on in nature photography: even if your primary subject fails to appear or do something photogenic, another subject will fill in the gaps.

Actually, you can’t count on that at all. Don’t listen to me. [I know, you weren’t anyway. Thanks for that.]

Having spotted some bald eagles at a particular spot that seemed promising a few weeks back, The Girlfriend and I did a small excursion down there again, about a week ago, to see if any were to be found. Short answer: no. Longer answer (by three letters): maybe. In the extreme distance, two birds were flying away in a position and wingbeat pattern that might have indicated eagles. Since it was a weekend and a fishing spot, the place was undeniably busy, so we didn’t hang around long.

But while there, an osprey (Pandion haliaetus) did some distant wheeling overhead, and eventually passed from cloudy sky into a small patch of blue, and I was tracking it as it did so.

I thought I’d mostly corrected the autofocus issue, but this series of photos showed focus to be just slightly off, so apparently not; I’m beginning to suspect that it locks focus initially, perhaps not perfectly accurately, and then doesn’t readjust often enough. Still experimenting, but in the meantime, this is close enough for this kind of framing and usage.

While at the location, however, we did a small amount of exploring, and I kept the long lens affixed and ready, so when a black-capped chickadee (Poecile atricapillus) began flitting around on branches and vines right smack in front of us, I put it to good use.

Chickadees are generally pretty mellow, if hyperactive, birds; they don’t fret about closer approaches as much as most other species, and while there was no question that it knew we were there, we held still enough that we didn’t appear threatening. So I just kept firing off frames, and this time the autofocus was doing its job properly.

It looks suspicious here, but that’s just a momentary eye-contact thing as it examined the entire area, as they do. These frames are cropped a little, but not a lot; this guy was less than four meters in front of us, and at 600mm focal length, that’s enough to make it quite dominant in the frame. If you’re not familiar with chickadees, they’re small enough to be enclosed in your hand with just the tailfeathers sticking out.

And one more for detail, because.

I’m not complaining about this at all. Even if it’s a fairly easy subject to capture.

I fired off fifteen frames in the [checks EXIF info] ten seconds that the bird was perched in easy sight, and while we didn’t see what we were after, I can count this as successful anyway. You can never be prepared for everything, but keeping your options open can help a lot.

By the way, my current project (among many of the outstanding ones) is to capture the grebe in the nearby pond. Every damn time that I’ve seen it has been in poor light and at significant distances, so much so that distinctive identification is impossible, and I think it’s baiting me. I’m still male enough to consider that provocation, so we’ll see how this pissing match plays out.

Closer than last year

March 29, 2020 Al Denelsbeck

… or the previous one, for that matter.

I’d mentioned earlier that I’d primed the yard with egg cases of the Chinese mantis (Tenodera sinensis) – seven of them, to be exact – and this morning I found the first of them had produced progeny. Unfortunately, I was a bit late in discovering this, since no mantids were emerging as I observed the case, and a few dozen at least were scampering among the rosemary leaves where I’d placed the egg case. Nonetheless, I was prepared with stills and video this time, even if there wasn’t a tremendous amount to capture in video.

The weather was great for this, if not a tad too hot and bright, but this was certainly better than rain or overcast skies. And I’d thoughtfully placed the branch that the egg case was attached to within a small gap in the rosemary bush, so I had a reasonably clear path to get close. It was still a little tricky, given the macro softbox, but nothing too serious.

Those little yellow specks on the eyes, among other places, are pine pollen that’s all over every damn thing this time of year.

A brief rundown for those few who haven’t memorized everything that I’ve ever said in posts: mantises emerge from the egg case in a form more resembling a worm than anything else, and slowly unfold their limbs over a period of many minutes, but also appear to perform an initial molt within the first hour or so, with the exoskeleton being anchored to the egg case by ultra-fine threads. These molted skins are left to dangle from the case like chaff, and are often the best indication that a hatching has taken place, given how small the newborns are. Some of them can be seen in this image.

And occasionally, those very fine threads tangle up the newborns as well, though I suspect today’s gusty winds had a little to do with it. There appeared to be two that suffered this fate, out of dozens or hundreds that emerged, and this is how the species deals with the high mortality rate of the pre-adults; as long as one or two survive to reproduce and pass along the genes, the purpose has been served.

We humans protect our young, but many other species cannot actually do this (it would have required overwintering of the adults, and that’s a radical change in physiology,) so they do the next best thing and increases the odds with lots of babies. In a few months, it will be down to a mere handful.

But let’s get to the video.

First note: for the egg case clips, I was on a newly-modified tripod that I made strictly (okay, mostly) for macro work, and it served pretty damn well, but for the upper reaches of the rosemary, I could get close enough without disturbing the branches, so I was shooting freehand, thus the instability. The video that I got three years ago was admittedly better, but it’s all a matter of timing and availability – none of the egg cases from two years ago (that I’d purchased) even hatched, and last year I missed all of the hatchings with a bad work schedule, so I’m taking what I can get.

Now here’s a closeup of the one I tried to rescue:

Note that this is before I made any attempt at all, having clipped the threads that it hung from and set it on the camera bag; the ballistic nylon fabric gives a good indication of scale. But the legs could only get that way because they were still soft and flexible from the emergence.

While I was at this, I asked The Girlfriend to shoot a few images of me to illustrate just what it took to get these closeups, and so, at the risk of scaring everyone off, I make another rare appearance within.

This has been edited ever so slightly, increasing the visibility of the egg case itself just so it’s more noticeable. That’s the macro softbox rig, and the reversed 28-105 that serves as my high-magnification lens. Now we’ll step back a little.

This shows the shooting position a bit better, right at the edge of the driveway and buried pretty deep in the rosemary – the 28-105 has to be pretty close for these kind of shots – while the second body with the Mamiya 80mm and extension tube attached sits nearby on my custom tripod (actually, my old Manfrotto that I cut the legs down on and attached my old ballhead, but it works fantastic.) By the way, I’d purchased a used Canon 7D a few months back and that’s been my primary workhorse now, and that’s it on the mini-tripod, but I brought out the old 30D for the still photos. Damn sensor badly needs a cleaning, though, so I had to touch out a lot of dust from those photos.

Another shot from today (well, yesterday now, since editing the video and writing this took longer than I wanted,) another hatching.

On numerous strands of webbing stretched across the top of the gate, little specks revealed themselves to be newly-hatched spiders, though I can’t tell you what species. I’d lean towards barn spider myself, since they seem to be the most numerous in the area, but that’s only a guess. None of them wanted to give me a dorsal view of their markings, and I had almost nothing to brace against for stability and focusing – I tossed a lot of frames in the attempt. But hey, you can say there are a lot of birthdays to celebrate on March 28th… except none of these, or the mantids, will even be alive when it rolls around again next year.

At the tail end of the video I included a clip of tadpoles, and that references this post when the eggs were laid. They (some of them, anyway,) may well be around next year, so we can celebrate their birthday if we like.

One more thing: it’s time to start monitoring the eagle nest cam, since the eggs are due to hatch any time now.

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