New York: The raptors

Al Denelsbeck

osprey Pandion haliaetus hanging out in dead tree before fierce storm
I have a ton of bird photos from the New York leg of the trip to feature, so this seemed to be the best way to break them up; unfortunately, the remaining ones may be a little while in coming, since some obligations are coming up. Right here, we have an osprey (Pandion haliaetus, but you already knew that,) hanging out in a dead tree near the Gatsby mansion as the sky turned foreboding. This is very likely the same one seen wheeling overhead in the storm video, which was taken… well, I don’t know how much later it was taken, because video clips do not have EXIF data and the file tags are all over the place, but none of them are accurate. We’ll just say less than 20 minutes later almost directly underneath this perch.

Like the bald eagles around here at Jordan Lake, the osprey have exploded around Cayuga Lake, at least, partially due to supporting efforts in the area: there are scores of manmade nesting platforms all throughout the region, which I regret not stopping to do a few pics of – most of the time I was on my way someplace when I passed, not able to stop, but laziness plays a role too. I mean, I’d been shooting an active nest with young from a great vantage before I arrived in NY, so my lower angle looking up at nest edges wasn’t comparing, you know?

While touring Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge at one point, an osprey started fishing in a small channel just off the drive, practically hovering in the headwind and providing a very consistent view as I leaned out the window.

osprey Pandion haliaetus nearly hovering over fishing spot
No, that’s not enough – let’s go in closer for the details.

hovering osprey Pandion haliaetus in closeup
This is a full-resolution crop of the same frame, lightened just slightly to show the eye better, but I want to draw your attention to the color cast of the underside, since that green hue came from the reflection of the marsh grasses alongside the channel. Bear in mind that the bird was 20 meters up, maybe slightly less, but the grasses were extensive and vibrant enough to act as fill lighting in this manner. Cool.

That one never did spot a fish in the brief session nearby, while another one cruised through slowly – again, heading into the wind so it took its time in passing. I snagged a few frames of that one too, including one as it turned to look directly at me.

osprey Pandion haliaetus in flight looking at photographer
Varying distance and a little difficulty in pinning down the details sharply enough meant I was trusting autofocus, which was slightly off for this frame – of course. There was nothing else to focus on, but it still seems to twitch a little too much, though the jiggling of the lens and the image stabilizing effects might contribute too. Ah well – better than I was ever getting with the old Sigma 170-500.

As I made my way along, the drive took a sharp bend, and eventually I could look back on a tree that had been ahead of me, finding one of the ospreys (perhaps) had taken a perch and was attempting to be regal, so I did a wide variety of frames for the fartistic, semi-abstract approach.

osprey Pandion haliaetus perched in fartsy dead tree
Subjects like this are the kind that I recommend working the hell out of, since it can be presented in countless ways depending on framing and focal length. In fact, I just went back now to look closer at the originals, because it seemed like the bird’s body was aligning with the branch extremely well, but it turns out that the bird is actually behind the branch underneath – technically, further out on the same branch, but falling behind it from our perspective here; other frames show the tailfeathers peeking out from beneath.

And then, we go in closer for the eye contact.

osprey Pandion haliaetus in dead tree appearing to grin stupidly
Obviously, it realized I was shooting, and provided this wholly unconvincing grin – ospreys aren’t known for being naturals in front of the camera.

Okay, fine, ospreys cannot grin at all – it’s just a trick of the angle. Happy now? But note the change in background color. The sky was uniformly clear but slightly hazy, and the color change comes solely from the change in shooting angle, this being almost into the sun. Good to pay attention to for the best effect in your scenics.

And now we’ll return to one I teased about, oh, many days ago now.

Out early in the morning at the mansion, I was wandering the lake edge and looking for subjects, knowing there were bald eagles in the area but seeing nothing save a woodpecker. And then, I heard the soft, brief calls of an eagle, almost idle, and very close by – like, within one of the trees on the property. I started a slow stalk of the area, pausing frequently to peer hard into the trees, trying to remain inconspicuous even though I knew I was close enough for easy spotting by anyone, much less eagle-eyed, um, eagles. Unfortunately, I saw an adult fly off as I approached, naturally taking a tack well away from a clear view, but out of curiosity, I maintained my slow approach and concentrated on the region that it had flown from. This suspicion paid off nicely.

juvenile bald eagle Haliaeetus leucocephalus feeding on fish in tree
That’s a first-year juvenile bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) working on a fish, most likely (judging from the age, the calls, and the departing adult) brought to it by that adult, which may indicate that this one really wasn’t long out of the nest. This also fits with the time frame, being late nesting season in NY. This is a cropped frame, but not by a lot; the full frame follows:

juvenile bald eagle Haliaeetus leucocephalus full frame
Yes, this is at 600mm, but I was close – if it hadn’t been for the meal, I’m quite sure the eagle would have flown off. I was a good boy and remained where I was, making only slight shifts in position for the clearest view, with no sounds and minimal camera motion. The dampness of the bark is likely where the adult plopped down with the still-dripping fish.

juvenile bald eagle Haliaeetus leucocephalus staring into camera
The eagle was most certainly well aware of my presence, but the meal was more captivating. I’ve seen this from several different species: food takes precedent, and it sometimes provides a slight edge in that, if you’ve managed to get close while the bird was intent on a meal, they’ll accept your presence afterward since you behaved yourself. It’s not a hard rule – many species will simply fly off with their food – but it’s worked more than a few times.

juvenile bald eagle Haliaeetus leucocephalus in profile after discarding scraps
And so you know, despite the fact that it’s only a few months old, by the time they leave the nest, most raptors are the size of the parents, so this bird was big. My working distance was roughly 20 meters, maybe a little more, and this guy stood better than half a meter tall – the wingspan would have teased two meters.

juvenile bald eagle Haliaeetus leucocephalus in near-silhouette
After finishing its meal, it hopped a short ways along the branch, and I shifted position more to silhouette it against the sky, showing off the telltale ‘scruffy’ head feathers, lifting up on the neck, that always made me feel that ‘bald’ eagle was a stupid name; you can always see the feathers standing up! The scientific name is a more accurate description, and certainly more PC.

The eagle never flew away while I was there, so I take some credit for being unobtrusive (or perhaps nowhere near big enough for the eagle to feel threatened – take your pick.) I simply moved on once I had more than enough photos to make it worthwhile. A little later on, however, I returned to the spot directly underneath its perch, hoping to find some feathers, even though at this age, it hasn’t had flight feathers long enough to be molting them anyway. But the remains of its meal were evident.

discarded remains of bald eagle meal
Huh! Back in my day, we ate the entire bullhead! And we were grateful!

Profiles of Nature 27

Al Denelsbeck

cecropia moth Hyalophora cecropia caterpillar Telemachus giggling like a schoolgirl
This week we’re meeting Telemachus, just discovering that if you run into a door and you’re covered with spikes, this really hurts. Telemachus wants to be one of the top stuntcaterpillars in the business, and since there are presently no stuntcaterpillars in the business (this being Busby’s Budget Bookbindery in Brisbane,) he’s got both ends of that spectrum licked, actually. This is perhaps good, because he’s kinda hard on airbags and got stuck fast to the big stone ball in the defiled temple, but the blooper reel is gonna be fire, or yeet, or some such genz term. Telemachus is extremely devout, saying a prayer before each stunt and very often afterwards too, though those are mostly about walking again. He donates no money to the church, however, because “donate” does not involve guilt-trips or pious extortion, and are usually for good causes and not billboards trying to find the six people on the planet that have not actually heard of jesus. His hearing is terrible right now, so he’s saving up to visit a mohel and correct this (you probably don’t want to look that up if you didn’t get it.) He does not actually glow in the dark – I know, we were disappointed too. He also has a distinct fear of flying, so things are going to take a sharp downturn later in the summer (stay with us, here.) Telemachus dreams of having a lot of kids eat shit and die; school was not kind to him. His favorite thing to wonder why his grandmother had is a glass menagerie.

If you join us next week, we’ll promise not to continue this until the end of the year, but we’ll still justify doing it anyway by the fact that you keep coming back.

So current

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.’

eastern black rat snake Pantherophis alleghaniensis peering from bird's hollow in dead pine
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

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)

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.

misty sunrise over Susquehanna River
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.

misty sunrise over Susquehanna River
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.

family of ducks on Susquehanna River at sunrise
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

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.

small ginkgo Ginkgo biloba leaf dotted with raindrops
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.

unidentified wet leafhopper Cicadellidae defecating in public
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.

juvenile wheel bug Arilus cristatus sporting raindrops
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.

juvenile wheel bug Arilus cristatus with big raindrops on back
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.

extreme closeup of juvenile wheel bug Arilus cristatus showing magnifying water drop and eye facets
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

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.

sunrise over Jordan lake showing ripples from fish jump
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

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

Al Denelsbeck

mellow green treefrog Hyla cinerea Vigdis
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

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.

sunset over Cayuga Lake, NY
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.

post-sunset wide-angle shot showing localized rain storm
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.

Kelvin-Helmholtz clouds in Cayuga County, NY
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.

nighttime lightning beyond Cayuga Lake showing edge of camera rain cover
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.

lightning behind rain across Cayuga Lake, NY
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.

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