So current

July 6, 2021 Al Denelsbeck

Still plenty of photos to feature, but the posts I have planned are not quickies, and today was a bit busy. However, early this evening a neighbor came by and told us about the scene in his own backyard, so I grabbed the camera bag and trotted (ambled) over there. I’m getting a reputation – good or bad, I dunno, so we’ll just leave it at ‘reputation.’

This is a medium sized eastern rat snake, or black rat snake if you prefer – either way it’s Pantherophis alleghaniensis. It had climbed the straight trunk to find this excavation created by birds, which likely had young in it, initially at least, though I would have thought it was a little late in the season for a nest. There are not a lot of reasons otherwise for a rat snake to be scaling a tree, so…

Definitely a curious pose, and very clearly aware of our presence, but it had also been there for more than a few minutes and is likely spending the night to facilitate digestion. It had better tuck in before the owls get active, though…

Commit

July 5, 2021 Al Denelsbeck

Let’s face it, anyone can handle ‘Talk Like a Pirate Day,’ especially when we have no actual idea how pirates spoke, except that it was likely no different from how anyone else talked at the time, save for, “I am the captain now.” But tomorrow, July 6th, is for those capable of truly embracing a holiday, because it’s Walk Like an Orangutan Day. That’s right – we get to show off our best rocking, bowlegged, loaded-diaper gait, alternating between knuckle-walking and raising our arms high but limply, as if drying out our pits before entering the beach shop. Bonus points, of course, for wide-eyed, sad and forlorn looks and very mobile lip action.

I’d go into the origins of this holiday, but it goes without saying, doesn’t it? The point is lost if we have to explain why we’re doing it.

And no, it doesn’t count if we only do this at home, any more than we can claim we sing really well. Out in public, all day long at work, grocery shopping, PTA meetings, funerals… nobody gets to talk the talk. Full-on Librarian. This is our chance to show everyone that we’re serious, not poseurs. We should be committed.

The backstory (part 1 perhaps)

July 4, 2021July 3, 2021 Al Denelsbeck

Let me paint the scene: It’s very early morning on Interstate 81 in Pennsylvania. I’d driven through downpours in the Philly area that were reputed to stretch for kilometers, but the roads were dry here. I’d been seeing the sky lighten steadily for over an hour, and knew it was about sunrise, but here in the foothills between the Appalachian and Adirondack ranges, the sun itself might not become visible for a while. Thick patches of water vapor could be seen rising from the valleys, and I knew there would be something scenic to present itself if I kept my eyes open, ready to stop and grab the pic.

Descending, I crossed a bridge – one of many on the trip, but this one was over the Susquehanna River – glanced to the right, and leaned hard on the brakes. The cooler on the passenger seat alongside me headed towards the footwell but was stopped by the dash, while various items shifting on the rear seat could be heard. I was already well aware of the lack of traffic at this time and place, sharing the road with only the occasional rigs which weren’t even visible right then, so no hazards to anyone else with this maneuver. I quickly found a small apron before the offramp that came almost immediately after the bridge and knew the car could be well out of the way there. Hit the hazard lights, jumped out, grabbed the camera from the backseat, and trotted back up the road about a hundred meters to the bridge I’d just passed over.

Seriously, would you have passed this up? All right, then. As indicated, most of the surrounding hills were still shrouding the sun from the rest of the landscape, and it was being in the river valley that allowed this view at that moment. Also, this was only a few days before the summer solstice, when the sun was as far north as it would get, so this particular view would be different for most of the remaining year since the sun would be off to the right.

Had I hit the road ten minutes earlier, I could have caught the sun just making its appearance over that ridge, though it’s possible that, without the sun, I wouldn’t even have stopped; it was the distinct red ball over the water, seen in a mere second, that induced me to pull over so quickly. The mist differentiating the layers of trees gives extra depth to the scene, and the white balance was set for ‘sunlight’ to retain those orange hues – in truth, I rarely ever switch it off of that.

One of the things I like about this is the incongruity, because I know I was standing on on the shoulder of an interstate bridge littered with scrap metal bits and gravel, bouncing under me as the rigs roared past at over 100 kph (usually politely switching lanes because they were empty enough,) the ambient sounds exchanging between that and the early morning birds as the trucks got far enough off. The images are all serene, giving no indication of the warehouse just a few hundred meters to the left, and within an hour or so, the traffic noise wouldn’t abate again until well after night had descended. Every time I see these images, I’ll make that association – which means anyone else will get a measurably better feeling from them than me, even though I’m pretty good about separating the visual aspect from the circumstantial.

Anyway, I got back on the road within a few minutes, happy that I had some solid images already from the trip.

Past midnight

July 3, 2021July 3, 2021 Al Denelsbeck

Last night, the rains finally came through, mostly sideways, and it’s safe to say we’re saturated now. The treefrogs were signaling their approval even before it started, while remaining mostly out of sight (yes, even to me,) but they prompted me to go out after it stopped, just barely into this morning now, and look around a bit. I got no photos of the frogs, but found a couple of other subjects to tackle.

Above, our ginkgo tree (Ginkgo biloba,) newly transplanted in the yard, was demonstrating the faint hydrophobic properties of its leaves. Ginkgos are often called living fossils, which is nonsense, but they are the only members of the Order Ginkgoales, which appears (through actual fossils) to date back to the middle Jurassic period – the structure of the leaves is pretty distinct, as you can see here: no branching, just the veins all originating from the stem itself. At some point I’ll be posting a little more about them, but right now we’re pleased to have one in the yard.

Out front, other things could be found.

This leafhopper was out within easy reach, but small, and my attempts to snag a sharp portrait with the reversed 28-105 didn’t quite nail it. This still illustrates the red color the eyes turn at night (much like the mantids, but theirs turn black,) and the raindrops, but that milky one isn’t rain, it’s leafhopper excrement. I know, right smack in our yard with no one around to scoop it. Class.

The real subject, the one that made me get the macro rig in the first place, was out on the big Japanese maple.

I’d initially seen this juvenile wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) on the underside of the leaves, so white that I mistook it for the molted skin of a katydid, but when it had moved up top I could see the myriad raindrops adhering to it and knew I had to get some pics, especially since wheel bugs are almost fearless and thus easy to work with. This meant I could go in close.

All those hairs help suspend the water drops away from the body, and likely help repel parasites. The huge proboscis down there distinguishes this as a serious predator, which I’ve photographed before. But let’s go in for the real closeup.

The luck that I didn’t have with the leafhopper came through here, in that we can see the eye facets as well as the magnifying properties of the raindrops – this is a little below full resolution. For the record, this specimen was less than 20mm in length, far smaller than an adult. And note the reflection of the round face of the macro softbox in all shiny surfaces in these images, visible once I point it out but otherwise subtle enough to escape attention most of the time, the reason I made sure the illuminating aperture was round; the rectangular highlight of a typical strobe becomes noticeable because it’s unnatural-looking. I’m still trying to balance an ‘even’ light source with the reduction in power that it will entail, because diffusing it more for a uniformly white circle will reduce what makes it to the subject, and I don’t need that. As always, modifications and refinements go on.

Gotta be quicker than that

July 3, 2021 Al Denelsbeck

I hadn’t quite finished sorting the stock photos before I left on my trip, and of course doubled that number with the trip photos themselves, so I’ve been endeavoring to catch up (just a handful more to go now.) But while doing this, as usual, I came across a few photos to feature and comment upon. This one is trivial, but I want to put it here because more sunrise photos are on the way.

Nice enough sunrise shot out over Jordan Lake, on an outing a few days before I left, but I’ll draw your attention to lower center. See those ripples? That’s from a fish that jumped from the water as I was framing the photo – a nice addition, if I could capture it, but it takes millisecond timing because fish don’t often give any forewarning, nor any pattern in appearance in this manner. Their actual time out of the water might be, hmmm, 1/4 second or so? See it, recognize it, send the message down the arm to the hand, electronic delay time in processing the shutter press, mirror-slap and aperture closing… yeah, we’re on the fine edge of bare possibility, and that’s the best that can be said. More likely that I’ll trip the shutter coincidental with a fish jump – but hey, I have accomplished it intentionally, only with a much bigger fish that jumped higher, probably four times as long out of the water, so…

Redirect II

July 2, 2021 Al Denelsbeck

I’ve already used that title, so this is junior. I’ve got plenty of stuff to post but not enough time to do them justice, and I didn’t want to let the day slip past on this hugely, unquestionably momentous date, and so I’ll link to a post from years back. 84 years ago today, Amelia Earhart and Fred Noonan failed to make their rendezvous at Howland Island on their circumnavigation by air, making their last transmission early in the morning without being seen again, and so, I link you to a little bit of a breakdown on their last hours. The purpose of that post was to rebut the idea that they actually made it to Gardner/Nikumaroro Island, so it’s not a complete account of their final flight nor the various proposals of what went wrong, but it still gives some details and ideas regarding that. if you have the interest, there are several books, and if you have the desire for ridiculous, speculative nonsense, there are dozens more. Long story short: too little info is solid, with a lot of variables that cannot be calculated, but the informed consensus (based on the only dependable facts) is, they went down northwest of Howland Island. The water’s extremely deep throughout the entire area, so the chances of locating the plane on the ocean bottom are infinitesimal, at least until our technology expands quite a bit beyond what it is now.

And as I said therein, this really isn’t a mystery: it was a dangerous flight with too little preparation, with a very small region where anyone at all might have been able to see something, so missing this little spot isn’t surprising in any way. But it lives on in our culture.

Anyway, back soon with topical content.

Profiles of Nature 26

July 1, 2021July 1, 2021 Al Denelsbeck

Even when we were out of the state, the Profiles continued, so all hope of escape is lost – deal with it. This week we present Vigdis, a staunch advocate for hemp and CBD and suchlike products because she lacks the ability to comprehend anything of real interest. She also feels that her eyes are too close together, but this may be because she was adopted by hammerhead sharks; while she searches for a plastic surgeon that can accommodate her, she’s thinking of hiring someone who will carry one of her eyes but always stay in the next room. She intended to start procrastinating at an early age, figuring this was the key to long life, but has yet to commit to it and thus completes everything early, which may earn her some kind of reward from the Procrastinator’s Club if they ever decide whether she intended to apply posthumously. Her relationships tend to be rocky, normal for frogs since they breed in streams. Vigdis was picked on all through school for having off-brand clothes and shoes, confusing since she was home-schooled, and dodge ball was especially a bitch, although she was adept at faking her parents’ signatures on her report cards. This prepared her for a singing career, she says, yet doing something vocally might have been better; she’s off-key even in sign language. Her plans for retirement are well in order, with a street corner and a shopping cart all picked out – she imagines one without a wobbly wheel, but realistically? Vigdis’ favorite bridge bit is a laminated elastomeric bearing, but so is everyone’s so they’re usually out.

Halfway! Just makes the pain behind the eyes even worse, doesn’t it?

New York: Meteorology

June 30, 2021July 1, 2021 Al Denelsbeck

While in New York, I was again staying on the banks of Cayuga Lake in a Gatsby mansion, which gave me ready access to sunrises, sunsets, and a decent view of any storms that might happen along, especially since the best view was westward into the prevailing winds. I was only there for a few days, but had some nice opportunities and (almost) made the most of them. What was interesting was how variable it was, even with a good view of the surroundings.

One evening produced a lovely sunset, one frame of which was already posted as the month-end abstract, but before it even reached that point I was capturing plenty of other examples. This was Father’s Day, and the cove immediately to my right had displayed an estimated sixty boats within, which where thinning out as the day waned, but it wasn’t hard to keep them out of the frame for the scenic shots aimed away from the cove. Meanwhile, a wider shot gives a different impression.

The sun had just disappeared below the horizon where that orange spot is, but somewhere not far away, someone wasn’t enjoying it but getting a heavy rain storm instead. Despite my loathing of smutphones, I can still find the occasional uses, and for this, I pulled up the lightning tracker which also shows weather radar, discovering that the single storm was a lot farther away than I imagined, actually on the far side of the next Finger Lake in line, which is Seneca; an estimated 30 kilometers to the center. I would have said less than half that, but I can’t recall ever having the opportunity to measure and get a baseline before, so I accept no blame, only ignorance.

In the opposite direction at this time, I got my first decent photo of Kelvin-Helmholtz clouds, which are a pretty cool effect. I’d glimpsed a set once before, nowhere near as clear as this, so I was pleased.

The distant storm passed, with nothing happening locally at all. And then, at 3 AM, I heard rumbles of thunder and decided to roust myself and try for pics, thinking that the position on the lake might give me excellent views. The tripod was still in the car, and as I fetched it and closed the rear hatch, the glass therein showed me a distinct reflection of the sky, notable because for a split-second it showed a lightning bolt crossing a broad expanse, taking up most of the hatch. Well, dammit.

The rain was already starting as I got to the docks to set up, so I had to dig out both the camera rain cover and the rain poncho for myself, but that’s why they remain in the camera bag at all times. Well, I mean, except when I’m actually using them. Getting set up down on the docks, I was remaining aware of just where the storm seemed to be centered, being a little exposed out there. I neglected to ensure that the edge of the rain cover was well behind the lens hood, so one of the frames revealed my oversight.

It also revealed the lousy leveling job that I’d done, but then again, I was out there in supremely dark conditions, no lights anywhere save for my pocket flashlight, working around two different plastic covers (the camera’s and mine,) so I’m not surprised – all the light you see here came from that millisecond when the lightning illuminated the clouds from within. It was easy enough to crop a bit for a detailed look at that sky.

I didn’t see it at the time, but peeking through the rain was the light source, a long bolt extending the length of the frame, just not clear enough for decent use. And a boat anchored out there in the middle somewhere, so I imagine that evening was eventful for them. Not half as eventful as the following afternoon, but we’re getting to that. This turned out to be the only frame worth keeping, and barely at that, while the rain increased to a downpour and the storm moved in overhead, so I abandoned the efforts and got out from under it to go back to sleep. Ah well.

In mid-afternoon of that following day, it had been very clear and muggy, but the overcast moved in quickly. As I saw some promising quick flashes out across the lake and heard the distant thunder, I set up the camera on the tripod for some video (since daylight lightning photography is next to impossible – you can’t leave the shutter open to wait like you can at night.) What I captured was something else.

The wind was quite fierce out there (my tripod is not a lightweight,) and it’s worth noting that a tornado touched down off the opposite end of the lake from this same storm system – minimal damage, but, yeah, I believe it…

Still no good lightning though. It’ll come.

Been a long month…

June 30, 2021June 29, 2021 Al Denelsbeck

… so we bid June adieu, toodle-oo, and get lost ya bum with the month-end abstracts. Yes, that’s right, plural. Three, even. Two of which are remarkably similar though, so be appeased by that. Or whatever.

Our first comes from Jordan Lake, a bit south of Walkabout Studios here in North Carolina, during a sunrise outing. The sky was a little too clear for optimal colors, but on the horizon the thin clouds helped a little – they really only extended up a few degrees if that, and the sun soon rose out of them.

Then we go exactly 808 kilometers away and close to 180° different in bearing for the next, even though it’s close to the same thing.

Well, okay, I didn’t note the exact location for either shot, so I might be off by as much as a dozen meters with that measurement, but I feel comfortable saying that it would not have affected how either image appears. This time, however, it’s the setting sun, from Cayuga Lake in central New York, one of the Finger Lakes (the middle finger, if you’re right-handed, except your thumb is Y-shaped, unless your hand is pointing down which makes more sense from their alignment, but no matter what your fingers are spindly and badly misshapen.) I was, once again, back near where I grew up, and I have to say that sunsets there are, on average, markedly better. Something about how the humidity behaves as the day wanes; I’ve seen more promising skies in NC clear completely right when things should be getting colorful, so if you have the choice between the two locations, go with NY. It’s dependable and useful information like that which keeps you coming back to this blog. Right?

And then I blew it, because I took the next not exactly in between, in location or timing: this is about 10 AM, and not quite 414 kilometers away laterally to the westish from the last. I know, I know, I should have planned much better for this casual monthly topic.

Considering that I’d picked none of these for the month-end post when taking them (or indeed any,) this is what you get. At least I took advantage of the bright conditions to do what I recommend to students and readers (yes, plural again, even when you’re not even reading this,) which is to find the textures that get thrown into sharp relief with distinct shaping shadows. Not like that was hard with the rough-hewn rock – this being Squire’s Castle in North Chagrin Reservation in Cleveland, Ohio. I said I was touring the damn country with this trip. Squire himself wasn’t much for creature comforts, or indeed even grasping the functionality of housing, because the castle is unfurnished and wide open, even to the sky, but, you know, if (while sitting on the floor) he was attacked by a ballista that could only aim right there, he was protected. Better than nothing, I guess.

[I just looked it up. Squire survived three invasions of barbarians, but died of piles. There you go.]

New York (plus): Not the birds

June 29, 2021 Al Denelsbeck

On this recent trip, I went to (meaning, stopped at specifically) New Jersey, New York, and Ohio; I went through three times as many states as that, though if I could have avoided that I would’ve. Driving was pretty much a necessity – flying wouldn’t have cut it, but I can’t say how many kilometers I actually did, because I didn’t bother noting the odometer before leaving. Well over 2,000, anyway. And I took a few opportunities to snag some photos, though mostly from two specific areas, and mostly birds. So to start out slow (and get a post out quicker,) we’re doing the unbirds. The nonfowl. The vians (I believe that’s correct.)

In NY, I was in the region where I’d grown taller, and visited Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, twice. This is a driving tour through wetlands that border part of the Erie Canal system off the north end of Cayuga Lake, and we’ll see plenty more of it later on. New York doesn’t have much to offer in the way of lizards, and the snakes are thinner than down here in the region of Walkabout Studios, but turtles, it has. This was made clear immediately upon arrival, early in the morning following an overnight rain, as I stopped to let a painted turtle get out of the middle of the driveway into the refuge. Within twenty minutes, I stopped to let another cross, and had to leave the car to coax this one along lest it get smooshed by another driver that wasn’t attentive. A few hundred meters further on, I finally leaned out with the long lens to shoot over the hood and get pics of yet another.

Surprisingly, there are no overused modifiers in the name like “eastern” or “northern” or “the state not the city you dinglefutz,” – it’s simply a painted turtle (Chrysemys picta.) They’re one of the only turtles that I’ve seen that will pause on sight of cars and actually turn around to seek cover; most species simply tuck in, regardless of their location, and refuse to backtrack at all. Chances are, the rain (or the ground softened by it) was bringing them out in search of nesting locations, and if I interpreted the actions of this one correctly, it (she) was actually covering over her laid eggs as I was there. This is, of course, much later in the year than in NC, which have likely already hatched. Something to do with NY having ugly damn winters.

Later on, there’s a spot where you can leave the car to enter a photo blind, down a short path through the marsh, and I decided to check it out. I don’t know why, because not once have I ever seen a public-access photo blind that has a view of any damn thing, but I keep hoping. This one turned out as expected, and on the return my brother called my smutphone, finally awake. Walking while yakking on the phone, I glanced down in the path and found a small turtle almost at my feet.

This is a common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina,) and as you might be able to tell from the stones and grasses in the frame, a small one at that, only palm-sized. It was completely motionless, and I wasn’t sure it was alive. I had carried only the camera and long lens, so I had to back away from it to even have the ability to focus, but I could at least make out the eyes then and determine that it was very much alive, just pretending to be a cow patty. That mud is potentially an indication that it just emerged from hibernation, though I would have said this was a little late in the year for that. Hey, I just photographs ’em, I don’t interrogates ’em.

Better than half a klick down the drive, a much larger specimen was marching purposefully along the edge of the gravel road.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one standing quite so tall, legs at full extension and plastron nowhere near the ground, but this one seemed intent on a destination, and only paused as the car passed and it looked like it was now walking into danger. The algae on its back seems to belie the idea that the previous one had just emerged from hibernation, since this one would require some period of time out in warmer waters for the growth to occur, but as I said, no questioning. It never deigned to lower itself to the ground, nor retracted in the slightest, but simply regarded me inimically and dared me to prove the folklore correct.

I don’t recall ever having been bitten by any turtle, and wasn’t about to change that with this one, whose carapace was probably in excess of 30cm, plus I was being a good boy and staying in the car, which was skewed diagonally across the drive so I could shoot behind me and get a portrait angle. I probably should have saved this for a Profiles post…

Hard as it may be to believe, I chased few of my typical subjects on this trip, but this wasn’t due to any particular efforts on my part – I just wasn’t seeing much. So here we have the only arthropod subject, also in the refuge.

To the best that I can determine, this is a cabbage white butterfly (Pieris rapae) partaking of an extremely common thistle plant (Asteraceae.) Extremely common in NY, anyway – seeing it reminded me that they’re not around here in NC, and you don’t hear me complaining, because their multitude of thorns are uncomfortable to encounter while traipsing afield. Even the cows don’t like them, and so you’ll see patches of them in the middle of pasturage all the time, standing well over a meter tall, but various pollinators seem to adore them. Given that the butterfly was right outside the car window and posing nicely, I took the opportunity, and captured the multiple false pupils of the eyes with decent detail, especially since I was using the 150-600mm lens and not the dedicated macro.

Outside of the main part of the refuge but still within a section of it, I climbed an observation tower to once again find it of no use, but before I left, I glanced down into the top of a smaller tree and found this little guy stretching out for a meal.

This is an American red squirrel (Tamiasciurus hudsonicus,) which I’ve only seen in NY though they have a significant range within the northern states. They’re quite small, less than half the size of the eastern gray squirrel, only a little larger than chipmunks – this one, among the largest that I’ve seen, I’d estimate as a little less than 30cm in overall length. I was pleased to get such a nice perspective, though the autofocus wasn’t quite behaving.

Annnnddd one last pic, but this one’s from Ohio, one of the few that I took there during a short hike to chase subjects.

I thought this didn’t quite look right, and a little research told me why: this is a northern green frog (Lithobates clamitans melanota,) a subspecies of the ones found around here, slightly different in coloration. It was perched on a log well away from the creek – not unfathomably so, but further than I ever see them around here, which always use the water as a means to escape, but then again, it may be mating season up there – you know how stupid this makes us (shit, can you imagine if humans actually had a mating season?) Between the intervening grasses and the breeze, I tried to keep the shadows away from its eyes at least, as well as keeping my own shadow from spooking the frog off as I leaned in for the portrait angle – that’s probably my shadow down at bottom left. Nothing exciting, but hey, it’s a first in my stock.

That’s the start, and believe me, the birds will probably take up multiple posts. We’re getting there.

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