They make the red-shouldered hawks (Buteo lineatus) go into courting mode. The hawks are easy to spot because they’re anything but quiet about it, as indicated by the open mouths.
I’m fairly certain the perched one here is the same female I’ve photographed in the past couple of years (her belly, seen in shots not good enough to keep this time, is distinctively red overall,) but the flying male appears new. No signs of the nest yet, but I’ma keep lookin’.
That’s all.
This is an examination on stories, assumptions, and filling in the blanks, which changed as I was writing it.
I grew up on the northern tip of Cayuga Lake, one of the Finger Lakes of central New York, and right down where my street ended at the lake’s edge sits an historical marker telling of a former bridge across the lake from colonial times. Standing there and looking out over the water, this seems an impressive feat since the bridge would have stretched almost exactly a mile (1.6 kilometers,) no small task before the industrial revolution. Looking at it from an aerial view, it’s easy to see the two roads that the bridge joined: West Genesee Street on the east side, and East Bayard Street on the west. You can see this yourself; just click here to get the placemark in Google Earth, or enter “42.918570 -76.729523” in Google Maps, Bing, or whatever online mapping service you prefer – this will put you right where the historical marker sits (within spitting distance, anyway.)
Make sure you’re in satellite/aerial view, zoom out to see the width of the lake, and you’ll probably see something else: a sporadically dotted line in the lake stretching between the two roads (this has different visibility depending on which method you use, but it shows remarkably well in Bing, and in Google Earth you can change the dates of the imagery to see different versions.) I initially took these to be pits in the lake bottom from the bridge supports, since darker generally means deeper, but Bing is detailed enough to show warning buoys alongside, so now I believe they’re the actual remnants of the pilings, shallow enough to pose a hazard to larger boats. The north end of the lake is shallow anyway, running less than two meters in places, so only recreational boats run outside the marked channels.
Now for the part I’m still researching. There are stories that, during the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783,) troops moving a large cannon across the bridge lost control of it and watched it go off the edge, and there it remains, too damn heavy to raise. Silt and water weed growth serve to obscure it at most times. I have heard that people thought of raising it, but it would be expensive and the cannon would automatically become property of the state as an historical object. Basically, the state wasn’t going to pay and no one else was tempted to, in effect, donate the effort and expense.
Recently, I started trying to find out more about this, since the last time I tried was long before the interwebs. And things started to fall apart a bit.
First off, the bridge wasn’t completed until 1800, which meant it never saw anything from the Revolutionary War, but the account might have referred instead to the War of 1812. Yet, while finding plenty of accounts regarding the bridge online, I can find nothing of the cannon – not a word.
So now we go back. The sole source of my knowledge of the cannon is… my dad. He worked with the local historical museum for a while, and I believed that this was his source, but couldn’t say for sure. Eventually I just called him. Turns out that most, if not all, of the information came from the director of the museum, since deceased, and near as can be determined, he received the information from a boater who had claimed to see the submerged cannon. I also recalled a story about a private pilot who had spotted it from the air, but my dad didn’t remember this bit.
Abruptly, my impression of this cannon went from local history/folklore to an unconfirmed account from a boater who may easily have been mistaken. Corroboration in any form is nonexistent, and there is no historical evidence that even hints at the event – where the details about the troops losing control of the cannon originated, I can do nothing but speculate. The director had expressed his intention to keep knowledge of the cannon quiet, lest it be raised or obtained by someone other than the museum, and may even have been influenced by early manifestations of the Alzheimer’s which colored his life only a few years later. I tried contacting the museum to see if anyone had any further information about it all, and received no reply.
This is the fun thing about folklore. While there is little reason to imagine someone made this up, what I grew up with as an established fact turned out to be nothing more than a vague story, narrowed down to only one source. Too often, the integrity of whomever relates such a story is considered important, sometimes the only thing that distinguishes it from a tall tale, but this is an aspect of human social interaction, an emotional reaction, and nothing that rationally promotes a story to the level of ‘evidence.’ Nor is there any useful way of producing more support for the story – about the best that I can come up with is some magnetic survey of the lake pegging a strong metallic deposit in the right location. The lake is a popular locale for fishing, swimming, and boating, so it seems likely someone else could have spotted it by now, but I’ve found no further accounts.
I had not only intended to do a serious article on the cannon, I had toyed with the idea of initiating more research, if not the actual raising of the artifact. Some people (‘journalists’ among them – yes, those are sneer-quotes) might be inclined to promote the vague story into something more substantial, some assumption that it was wholly accurate, but I’ve seen enough of that kind of bullshit and would rather encourage solid critical appraisal. One third-hand account isn’t enough to merit much more effort than this.
Now if it was a UFO, that’d be a different story … ;-)
No, not me; I’m actually talking about an article by Andrew Evans called, “10 Tips for Photographing Wildlife in Galápagos.” Evans shoots for National Geographic Traveler, and thus has more cred than I’ll ever have. Definitely check out that article, because he’s got some decent points.
Of course, with a lead-in like that, it means the “but” is coming, and feel free to call me presumptuous. I’m not in radical disagreement with anything that he said, but there are some things that I think need some expansion or qualification – this is perhaps the curse of the word-limit and editor’s decisions, where the length of the article takes more precedence than treating the subject with vigor. I’m not limited by that here, for good or bad, so this might actually turn out longer than Evans’ piece. Inconceivable, I know…
Anyway, here’s a few comments. Under 1, Know Your Animals:
Before you start shooting pictures wildly, observe the animals closely.
No argument, except that I wouldn’t suggest you have to do this before you start shooting. Some behavior is sporadic, some appearances far too brief, as may be your time in that locale. Observation is a very important facet of wildlife photography, but if it takes the place of actually getting some shots, you may lose the one opportunity you had.
Tip 2 is Get Close, and this one definitely needs some qualification. Evans was speaking of photographing specifically in the Galápagos, which has conditions that aren’t found in too many other locations – it’s safe to say it’s an exception rather than typical. The animals there are both habituated to people and not terribly spooky to begin with – they’re also unlikely to display either dangerous territorial behavior or flee in panic. But getting too close to animals (Evans does qualify this, but only by stating the Galápagos Park’s 2-meter rule) can put the photographer in danger in many cases. Even more likely, however, is that the animal is simply scared off, and just their awareness of human presence is enough to change the behavior that may be seen. A better action is to go to places where the animals are used to close approaches, or to take advantage of situations where their reactions are different.
Adding to this, when you have a situation where a close approach is both safe and possible, this provides the opportunity to work on not just getting images of the animals, but creating the compositions and capturing the expressions that are so much harder in most conditions. Cooperative animals are very hard to find; use the chance to nail a better image.
Everything else he says in that tip, however, I am solidly behind, and I love the part where he says, “Good wildlife photography should make you sweat a bit.” Great thing to keep in mind.
Under 4, Be Patient:
Think, plan, get your camera settings ready and then go explore.
Emphasis on camera settings. Different conditions require different settings and approaches – even aiming from the ground to the sky means you should probably be changing at least exposure compensation. Most decent digital cameras have pre-programming functions, allowing the photographer to quickly change white-balance, saturation, contrast, etc. with just a click or three. Take advantage of these to cover the situations you’re most likely to find. And, know how to adjust for anything else you might encounter, preferably without having to refer to the manual.
And yes, 100% behind the bit about not rushing, and sticking around.
I have to add another perspective under 5, Show Motion. Evans suggests using rapid-fire shooting to capture action, which does have its uses – but it also suffers from gross misunderstanding as well. For instance, if there is a specific position or point of action that you want to capture, taking advantage of the camera’s frame-per-second rate and simply holding down the shutter release to fire off a bunch of frames isn’t likely to provide an advantage. Let’s say you have a high-end camera that can do 10 FPS, and you’re using a shutter speed of 1/250 second. That means, out of a second of action, you’ve captured only 1/25 of it. Hitting a baseball, or a heron’s fish-strike, takes up much less of a second, so even less likelihood of nailing the point you might really want to capture. Even if you want an image of a bird flying with its wings at their highest point, the wingbeat might simply match up with the frame rate and you capture the wings at the same point every time, and not a nice range of positions. So, there’s something to be said for being able to time just one frame for a chosen point of action.
Skipping down to 9, Don’t Multi-Task, we have:
Set specific photography goals—say, “This morning I’m going to try to capture a sea lion’s facial expression.” Then go out and get the shot.
Uhhhheeerrrmmnnn, yes and no. One of the surest ways to get frustrated with nature photography is to believe that not getting a shot means you failed. Too many variables are in effect that you have no control over, so not getting a shot can simply mean the odds didn’t go in your favor that day. There’s nothing wrong with staying focused and knowing what you want from an image, and avoiding distractions is good. But there’s also the idea of ignoring other shots in pursuit of the one you never captured, and this means your day’s yield falls to nothing. Some of the best frames that I have came from days when everything I’d planned went sour. Flexible focus is what I usually recommend.
And every time you miss a shot, learn from the experience, and try again tomorrow.
Once again, I consider the tips to be solid, and good advice overall. Nature & wildlife photography isn’t something to be learned from a checklist, but the right mindset can help a lot, and most of the tips apply to more than just the Galápagos. I’ve already expressed the issues I see with “eco” tourism and how the Galápagos would benefit more from staying away; there are plenty of places to find wildlife without contributing to negative environmental impact. But wherever you choose, the right habits are only going to help. Good luck!
It’s been a while since I tackled another aspect of this topic, but this is the right time of year for this one, so let’s delve into orphaned wildlife and rehabilitation.
I used to work in this field a fair amount, both in administration of wildlife organizations and as an active raptor [birds of prey] rehabilitator, plus I served as wildlife adviser in several different situations. So I’m familiar with most of the more common reactions people have when they find ‘orphaned,’ injured, and ill wildlife. It’s hard to give enough useful information without trying to cover every situation or alternative, so treat this as an overview. One thing that I especially want to emphasize here is that there is an immediate emotional response in most cases, which tries to override the advice given by those who work in the fields, so be aware of it. There isn’t an ‘instinct’ we might have that applies to wildlife, and the rational mind is the part that needs to take control.
Additionally, the amount of folklore regarding wildlife is not just abundant, in most cases it’s ridiculously wrong. I’m not even going to say, “If in doubt…,” because you should doubt right off the bat, and consider that most of what you’ve heard is highly suspect. This means, contact someone who is supposed to know, and go with their advice.
Number one rule, and I can’t repeat this enough: Don’t try to raise wildlife on your own. Their diets are specialized, their needs varied and specific to the species, and their adult behavior dependent on how they’re raised. This isn’t the place for guesswork or experimentation. Even if they seem to be ‘doing well’ (like the viral video of the guy raising a baby hummingbird,) they may have developmental issues from an improper diet or exercise, or simply have imprinted on the wrong species, and you are in essence just prolonging the death of the animal. In the US, it’s illegal to raise any species without a specific permit, and songbirds are federally protected. It’s possible to obtain these permits, and quite frankly encouraged, because there are few places with enough rehabbers, but if you’re going to do it, do it right. More further down.
So, we’re about to enter baby bird season, and this accounts for a large percentage of wildlife encounters. I’ll dispel the first myth that touching a baby bird will cause the mother to abandon it. Utter hogwash, pure and simple – yet, I don’t always discourage parents from teaching this to their children, because it’s one way to try and get kids to leave them alone, which is a good thing. Better, perhaps, to teach them to leave them alone for the right reasons, which is to avoid interrupting their feeding schedule, or injuring them, or thinking it would be neat to have a pet robin. But returning to the myth, baby birds will occasionally fall from the nest, and it’s perfectly fine to return them to it, and in fact this is recommended.
It doesn’t always work, however. Some species will discard young that are not doing well, and some even kick their own siblings out – this is nature’s method of selecting the most viable offspring, as ruthless as we find it, and we’re not going to change it. Basically, if it’s a baby bird not ready to leave the nest (not fledged; we’ll return to this,) put it back. If it keeps coming out, there may not be much you can do.
Can’t reach the nest? Try to find a way, first. If that’s not possible, occasionally the parents will accept a substitute nest, such as a plastic berry basket with soft tissue as bedding – this should be placed as close as possible to the original nest, firmly anchored so it doesn’t come down. Observe the nest carefully, but from a safe distance, for 30-60 minutes to see if the parents have indeed found the substitute. If not, seek out a rehabilitator or wildlife official.
Abandoned nest? Maybe, maybe not. Once the eggs hatch, the parent birds go into feeding mode, gathering food constantly during daylight hours and stopping at the nest for brief periods to jam it down the gullets of their ravenous progeny. The 30-60 minute rule above is because waiting less may mean you’ve simply missed the brief feeding period between the extended gathering periods. Observation has to be done at a distance that does not alarm the parents – minimum is six meters (yards,) and more is recommended. Also, being low key is paramount, so take a seat (with binoculars, for preference) and remain still and quiet. Yes, it’s boring, but it’s for the health of the offspring, and if you didn’t care about that you wouldn’t be reading ;-)
As the nestlings become fledglings, they abandon the nest on their own in learning how to fly. This does mean that they’ll be found unable to fly, fluttering around at low level and even just sitting there staring at you. This is normal, and they should remain undisturbed. The parents are nearby, providing food and encouraging the flight attempts. Most bird species know enough not to give away their progeny’s locations to predators, or draw attention to themselves by moving a lot, so your ability to approach, or not being attacked by angry parents when you do so, means nothing at all. Again, observation is good here, as is knowing the calls of the species in question – the parents may be coaching their young towards them.
Now, telling the difference in ‘nestlings’ and ‘fledglings.’ A nestling is a baby bird that must remain in the nest for a while; they will have few feathers, or perhaps even odd ‘quills,’ which is what the feathers look like as they are growing out. Unable to support itself? Eyes not open? Nestling. Fledglings are the babies that are ready to learn how to fly. Their feathers will have good coverage with little to no stragglers or ‘stuffing coming out’ (the baby down.) One rule I always used over the phone was to ask if there were tail feathers – if there are, they’re about ready to fly. These are fledglings and should only be observed.
If in doubt, contact a rehabber/official. This is before doing anything else, save for getting it out of immediate danger. No food, no water, nothing at all. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard people say, “We’ve tried giving it water and worms” – birds can aspirate the water if it’s not given the way the parents do (you’ve noticed the beak getting jammed halfway down the throat, right?) and only one species in North America eats earthworms. Again, folklore – ignore it and be safe.
Also, bleeding in birds is serious, no matter what. Birds have very thin blood that doesn’t coagulate easily, and they can bleed out quickly. Also note that those ‘quills’ of new feathers mentioned above have a blood supply for a while, and these can be broken and start bleeding as well. Time is important in such situations.
Baby raptors will tear you up – they know how to use the beak and talons very early (often on their siblings) and will not hesitate to protect themselves. And adult raptors will protect their young. This is where it’s best to leave it to the experienced.
And it may seem funny to have to say this, but baby birds do not look like their parents. Adult kestrels and screech owls, both diminutive raptors, are often considered “babies” when found by those not familiar with what a real juvenile looks like. Basic rule: if it has a smooth appearance and good coverage of feathers, it’s at least fledgling age, probably older.
What about mammals? This is a little different – mammals are generally not found away from their parents unless something has gone wrong. Most especially, if the youngster’s eyes aren’t open, they’re wet from the rain or dew, or if they’re cold or dehydrated, this is the time to contact someone. Test for dehydration by gently pinching up the skin over the shoulders or side in a ‘tent’ and releasing – if the skin takes more than a second to go back into position, this is dehydration.
Always use gloves. Juvenile mammals can certainly bite, and there’s an additional risk to this: rabies is active throughout much of North America. This is an invariably fatal disease once it passes a certain point (much more so than HIV,) so this needs to be taken seriously. It is not just the bite that can transmit it, but contact of an infected animal’s saliva with mucous membranes can introduce it as well, which means that picking up a damp animal and rubbing your eyes puts you at risk. Animals do not have to be showing symptoms to be infectious, and symptoms vary anyway. BE SAFE.
It’s not just rabies. Mammals are far more likely to introduce other zoonotic issues than birds – they’re enough like us that parasites (internal and external) and some viruses can be transmitted to us. Bringing them into the house may mean you just introduced fleas, lice, giardia, and so on into your home. You’ve been warned.
Also, and it pains me to have to always say this, but cute does not mean safe. Any animal can defend itself. I have never been bitten by a raccoon, despite their aggressiveness, but I have a scar and a touch of nerve damage from a grey squirrel – one, moreover, that was raised in a house. Rabbits and mice can bite the hell out of you. Shrews even have a toxic saliva. Yes, I am trying to scare you – if you’re scared, you’re cautious, which is better than incautious.
In many cases, mammals about half of the adult size can be on their own without issues – they learn how to forage for their own food reasonably quickly. Again, the stillness thing doesn’t mean they’re lost – it may simply mean they’re trying not to attract attention. This is especially so for white-tailed deer fawns – they often curl up in the grass and conserve energy while mom forages, and will not move even when someone approaches – occasionally not even when picked up. Leave them be, and come back in a few hours. If they’re still there, that’s when you should contact someone.
Rabbits are notorious for abandoning the nest if it’s been disturbed, even with a full brood of young within. This is doubly hazardous because their nests are often in clumps of grass and can be inadvertently discovered by cleaning the yard. If it happens, immediately put everything back as it was, without touching the young, and place a few distinctive blades of grass across the nest opening (preferably something you can see from at least a short distance away,) then leave it entirely alone. Come back in a few hours and check to see if the grass has been moved. If it has, things are probably okay. If not, it may be time to check the warmth and hydration of the young. Contact a rehabilitator.
Again, trying to raise them yourself puts them at a high risk. This is especially true for rabbits, which are among the hardest mammals to raise in North America. I can’t count the number of people who have assured me that they did it once before, so “they know how to do it.” While this may be true, it ignores numerous things, such as how viable the released offspring were and whether they lasted longer than a month, whether they had developmental deficiencies because of improper nutrition, and even whether they had habituated to food or behavior that left them ill-prepared for their conditions. There is a shortage of rehabilitators, so believe me, if it was easy most people would be encouraged to tackle this on their own. The fact that not only is it discouraged, it is unlawful in most areas, should be a good indication that there’s something more to consider. And the welfare of the animal should take higher precedence than anyone’s ego.
Injured animals are extra dangerous. Yes, they may seem incapacitated or helpless, but you know what they say about appearances. One of my colleagues rashly checked an injured, near-comatose squirrel bare-handed, and it bit through her finger, joining its teeth together in the fleshy part of her index finger – I actually heard them grinding together. It then passed out without letting go. Animals in pain (even pets) often respond aggressively – they have no concept of your attempts to help them, and restraint can make them even more agitated. Deer can do vast amounts of damage by thrashing with their hooves, and the big waterfowl like herons and cranes can drive that beak into your face (and yes, they aim for effectiveness.) I really want to emphasize this, because the nurturing instincts are badly misplaced here, and extreme caution is necessary instead.
“There’s a nest of animals in my attic/crawlspace/walls and they need to be removed!” No. Most especially not when they’re raising young, which is most often when anyone notices them. Once the young are there, no further damage is going to be done to your house, because the parents are concentrating on raising their brood. Trying to relocate them is hazardous, both to the animals and to people in many cases, and pointless. Let them be, and in a few weeks the young will be old enough and move out on their own – about the only exception to this is bat colonies (more below.) Once there are no young to raise, the adult animals often leave on their own – nests are primarily for young – but they can also be encouraged to leave or stay out at that point. Squirrels are pretty bad about wanting to return to successful nest areas, and will even chew through wire mesh at times, but most others take the hint and find better places to live.
“But what about rabies?” Animals raising young, even in the eaves of your house, are not an especially high risk. Contrary to belief, rabies does not cause animals to leap suddenly out and attack people; those events are remarkably rare. While anyone should be quite cautious of any mammals that openly approach, living near them does not place anyone at special risk – you’re at greater risk of being killed by the tree near the house falling on you, and we won’t even talk about road risks. Like snake bites, most contacts with rabies vector wildlife occurs by people initiating the contact.
“Animals are doing damage to my property and need to be removed!” No. I can’t tell you how much this attitude annoys me, but that’s what a blog is for, right? Wildlife goes where the habitat is ideal, and pays no attention to humankind’s imaginary idea of “property.” First off, anyone should enjoy the opportunity to see behavior, something that is often hard to accomplish even when making the effort. If someone has wildlife around, chances are they aren’t in a high-rise apartment, which means they wanted to live with at least some vestige of nature visible; surprise surprise, it comes with other animals. While we might decry the damages to our gardens or landscaping, that’s part of the territory, just like road noise and power lines. Learn how to cope, and the ways to exclude animals from certain areas so we can have tomatoes. I’m sorry that a $500 tree was stripped, but no one should have planted something that was that appealing to the local species in the first place, and chances are, numerous appropriate trees had been cut down first so that the fancy landscaping could be put in its place (and I used to work for a landscaper, too.)
Trapping and removal is rarely effective. If there’s a habitat, someone else will move in. And wildlife populations have been shown through numerous studies to be fairly self-regulating; the issues come because habitat destruction by humans is not. We can put in housing developments much faster than the natural cycles of population reduction and management, and those displaced animals end up somewhere. They likely feel the same way about us – dread the point where they develop opposable thumbs.
But what about bats? Ah, the poor little guys! Much of our population considers them ugly and creepy, not at all helped by folklore and horror stories, yet bats are actually way cool mammals, and good to keep the insects down. But most species nest in colonies, and this does sometimes mean in attics, which can produce lots of guano (bat poop) and increases the risks of rabies exposure, primarily when one gets lost and ends up within the human spaces of the house. However, the damage that they can do is minuscule, since they do not dig or gnaw, and excluding them only takes 1/4″ hardware cloth (small-holed wire mesh.) Again, this should be done when no young are being raised, and should always be done with gloves and a breath mask (guano turns into dust easily and can be inhaled.) Should you find a bat in your house, contact your local animal control, since states differ on how they handle potential exposures.
I said I’d get to this: So you want to learn how to rehabilitate wildlife? Once again, this is actually encouraged, but like riding a motorcycle, it should be done properly and responsibly. If there isn’t a wildlife center or organization available in your area, contact your regional Wildlife Resource Commission office (for the US at least) to find out who in your area can train you, and most especially what permissions you need. In the US you’ll need at least one permit, possibly several. What you’ll mostly need is training, because any species requires a decent body of knowledge to tackle well – which also means pick a species, at least to start. Your local rehabbers can suggest a few, which might mean picking something you didn’t initially desire, but which is either easier to learn or presents the greatest needs within an area (and again, is this about you, or the animals?) Expect to spend a lot of time at it, since most animals need lots of attention – mammals may need feedings every four hours around the clock, and birds every 15-30 minutes during daylight (yes, I knew a songbird rehabilitator that kept baby birds in the desk drawers of her office.) And it’s almost certainly all coming out of your own pocket.
I feel obligated to say this, too: wild animals are not pets, and should not be raised as such. There are lots of reasons. The domesticated animals we have as pets, like cats and dogs and horses, have been bred that way for thousands of years and quite likely were chosen because they already had traits that assisted the process. Animals do not domesticate by simply raising them around people, and in many cases have behaviors that cause them to run afoul of our own (I mention once again the squirrel scar I bear, and will post that story later on.) Many animals also do not have diets that are easy for humans to replicate, meaning that they’re unlikely to thrive and may develop serious disabilities. But most distinctly, what we might imagine them to be like is rarely ever the case – they are highly unlikely to bond with humans in the slightest, and aren’t going to make good companions, do tricks, or even exhibit any appealing personality. They belong in the wild, and that should be your only goal.
Now, if the demands of rehabilitation are too much to contemplate, you can always volunteer with a local organization, and do rehabilitation on a rotation as your schedule permits. This helps prevent burnout and lets you have vacations and family emergencies. This also allows you to get involved without necessarily requiring the permits, because you can operate under the aegis of the organization and its own permits (which is how I worked with raptors, since my apartment would not fit the 15-meter flight cages required.) Still, expect to be dedicated to the job, even when it’s unsavory – cleaning cages and wounds, and even euthanizing injured animals, is a requisite part of it all. Not to mention how many species expect live or fresh food. If you’re thinking of cuddling fluffy bunnies, you’re not ready; rehab requires lots of ugly stuff, and very little bonding – they’re not pets, but wildlife, and need to be wild.
Or, simply donate money or materials. That works too, and is just as necessary – the nice thing about the subject is how nearly everyone can find a niche (provided they accept the reasonable expectations.) Despite such things as Wildlife Resource Commissions and the US Fish & Wildlife Service, there really isn’t money being put into wildlife rehab, especially not from a state or federal level. The vast majority of organizations run solely on donations and grants, and often even have to have veterinary services donated. Experienced workers are great, but donors are just as important, if not more so. Even people who can promote greater donations are important. Just about everything is grass-roots level, all of the time – the few exceptions are great, and demonstrations of what can be done, but not what you can expect throughout the field. Your help, whatever it is, will be appreciated.
A final note: find out, now, how to contact your local wildlife people. Before you find yourself with an injured owl on your hands. In some areas, it’s not self-evident or easy to find, and if it’s not a registered organization, you can forget about searching any telephone listings. Local animal control usually knows, and the 24-hour emergency vets. Often, 911 operators do not, and even local law enforcement may be stumped. A few minutes to get prepared can save a lot of hassle later on, and as I said, we’re entering baby season.
Hope this helps!
Several recent posts and articles have highlighted a problem that I’ve seen far too many times from, quite frankly, people who should probably know better. It’s rampant within philosophy, and unfortunately, there are still too many who think philosophy is something to be revered, so it tends to cross over into other disciplines as well. For lack of a better way of describing it right now (which will be ironic as soon as I actually get around to mentioning what the hell I’m talking about,) I’m going to call it the Labeling Problem.
Basic premise: We are a species that likes definite answers. In the face of vague, ephemeral feelings or assumptions about how things work, we immediately want to apply a label to them: “consciousness” and “free will,” “socialism” and “dualism,” “science” and “morality.” This isn’t exactly a bad thing – our language would be even more tortured without easy terms to apply to complicated concepts – but each of those terms above, and many more besides, are so poorly defined that the moment anyone uses them, someone else has an entirely different idea what is meant by the usage. Very frequently, this means that endless discussions take place because no one seems capable of recognizing that they’re not working from the same premise.
The last two examples, “science” and “morality,” are the ones I’m going to highlight here. Long ago I settled on a basic definition of science – “a methodical process of learning” – and I have yet to see where this does not apply. That there is an alternate usage along the lines of “the body of knowledge gained from this process” – making science a thing rather than a function – only demonstrates why labels are difficult sometimes; make up another word, for dog’s sake! But because the definition of science floats around a bit, there are those who feel that science requires bubbling retorts and lab results, electronic machinery and microscopes, and this then allows them to feel that science should not, and can not, be used in realms such as morality. This curious perspective is reflected in the “is/ought” dilemma.
While there are myriad aspects of this dilemma, the overall idea is that science can tell us what is, the bare facts of anything, but shouldn’t/can’t tell us what actions we ought to take over them. Science can tell us that animals can feel pain, but not if it’s good or bad to kill them for food. This is true enough, but then again, there isn’t any other pursuit that fares any better, when it comes right down to it – and even demonstrating the failures of them all takes, believe it or not, science. In order to know whether or not one pursuit is more functional than another, you need empirical data, a body of information to provide something other than vague guesswork and emotional reactions. One person may not like causing animals pain, while another enjoys hunting, so there needs to be something more than just personal reactions to serve as a guideline.
Philosophy leaps heroically into the fray here, or so most philosophers seem to believe. The ‘ought’ issue can be decided with long debates! Sometimes, perhaps – it’s true that discussion of salient points or varying perspectives can cause people to change their minds, and I’d be in rampant denial if I tried to claim I don’t use this throughout the blog, much less this post. The effectiveness of this, to demonstrate that it really is a better method of approaching such subjects, still requires an accurate dataset though. Advertisers are quite well aware that compelling arguments don’t reach people one-tenth as effectively as pretty faces and appeals to base emotions (I’m all out of luck on that first part, I’m afraid.) So, is the philosophical approach effective? Well, those who like philosophy will tell you that it is.
And there we have the first inkling of an underlying issue. How we personally feel about something is paramount to the decisions we make, and the pursuits we tackle. We consider morality an important pursuit, but why? Because it’s a part of us as a species, a mental desire to – to do what? What exactly is the goal proposed by these vague feelings within us?
Well, I feel perfectly comfortable saying that there isn’t one, because these feelings are a byproduct of natural selection, an emergent property that simply worked a little better than not having it – there’s no goal involved, any more than water has a goal to run downhill. It simply occurred. Which also ties in with the problem of labeling it effectively. Our desire for “morality” is most likely a desire to maintain a cohesive tribal unit, since as a species we survive better in groups. Morality, after all, revolves around how we deal with others, and whether or not some action is considered “proper” more by them than by our individual selves. But note that this does not apply to everyone else, only those to whom we have a certain connection. The dividing line between our ‘tribe’ and outsiders is arbitrary, very often involving whether others try to do something bad to us. If our family survives, our genes pass on to offspring, which is the only way natural selection can work – but the survival of the tribe is often tied in with survival of the family, and the ‘tribe’ may end up extending across the continent, depending on who threatens us. It is exceptionally muddy, because it is exceptionally vague.
And from these vague feelings of protection, survival, and cohesiveness, we try to develop a rigorous definition of morality – at least in part because we don’t like vagueness, but want absolutes instead (likely another emergent property.) Mind you, it’s science that informs us how these feelings kick in, and explains why we even have them – religion, philosophy, and every other pursuit throughout the history of mankind all attempted, and all got it wrong. And we didn’t find them wrong by debate, assertion, or epiphany, but by comparing the data and performing experiments and tests. We see how altruism has some notable effects in groups of chimpanzees, and what happens when prides of lions intersect – very often, it’s not a matter of other species not possessing traits that we have, but instead possessing them to a different level or effect.
So we come to goals, what we want morality to accomplish, and where we think it’s lacking or ineffective. But, ineffective at what, again? That question, and the answer thereof, depends largely on how we feel about it. The emotional impetus that we define as ‘moral desire’ is what makes us dissatisfied with some state of affairs, and provokes us to improving things. From a rational standpoint, it’s hard to find anything wrong with such desires, so we’re probably safe with indulging them. And we realize that it’s not a rule that we’re following, not a definition that we’re trying to fit into, but a reaction to something that we find unacceptable; crime, poverty, war, class inequities, slavery, abuse, even poor parenting. There’s no way to list them all – we don’t know how to add to the list until we think of a situation and find out how it makes us feel.
Obviously, making a definitive set of rules or guidelines presents difficulties, because not everyone feels the same way. Yet we can always select a rational goal, such as eradicating world hunger, and realize that this will appease the inner turmoil among a large number of people. The emotions are goads towards behavior – not specific behaviors, mind you, and a lot of things may work to answer the internal call. So it’s not a definitive method of being moral that we need, but a way to recognize the desire for this and answer that desire effectively. We can only be driven by a goal if we already find that the goal answers the internal drives.
Let me provide an example. Human overpopulation is already a serious issue in numerous areas of our planet, and promises to be a major issue worldwide in the next century. So, pick any six people that you know, and tell them they cannot have babies, ever, for the good of the planet. See how many of them absolutely lose their shit. But, it’s a rational goal, isn’t it? Yet that really doesn’t matter when it’s fighting upstream against the internal drive to reproduce. What might work is to convince them, with lots of evidence and detail, that their child or grandchild will be among those that starve to death, or succumb to pandemics, or otherwise meet an undesirable fate. Or perhaps, that there are offsets that can be performed, actions that can be taken that provide a net positive effect against the negative impact of a child. While doing this, of course, there cannot be the slightest hint that someone else will be free from having to sacrifice their desires, or then it becomes a class duel, and victimhood takes a hold. Human interactions are complicated…
Here’s what’s funny, as a brief aside. Emotional reactions are often expressed, openly or just internally, as rational decisions – we like to believe that we consider things, rather than follow some automatic response, and this often results in some astounding rationalizations that fall far from actual rationality (just refer to any political discussion for an example.) But by merely mentioning that reproduction is a base drive of our species, someone can be prodded towards disregarding the emotional reaction and commence real consideration. Isn’t that great?
This may sound like philosophical debate, and in a way it is; such debates are often engaged in finding the particular perspective or emotional appeal that causes someone to change their stance on a topic. Randomly attempting arguments is far less effective than specifically targeting someone’s base desires, however, and often we need to think like the advertiser and find the hot button. The desire to reproduce does not come from philosophy, or religious instruction, or even rational consideration, but as a simple evolved trait, and we wouldn’t know this without having applied the methods of science to the issue.
What this comes down to isn’t the ridiculous question of whether ‘science’ can dictate ‘morality,’ but how we actually determine what is acceptable to us as a species, and how we can channel our evolved traits towards something we collectively approve of. It requires discarding age-old assumptions, labels, that are misleading in nature, and taking the time to recognize what’s really at work – and yes, that’s what science can tell us. We end up leaving behind the ‘ought’ concept, because no one can adequately define ought beyond what we want; instead, we can seek effective methods of fulfilling desires in ways that do not introduce other conflicts. Perhaps no less complicated than the interminable discussions before, but almost certainly much more usefully aimed.
And the only way we’ll know for sure is to quantify the results ;-)
Quite a few months back, perhaps as much as a few years ago, I started thinking about how and when I began to embrace critical thinking. I mentioned before that I used to believe in a whole lot of crap and gradually left it all behind, but was there some particular event that started this process? We like to believe that such things come in epiphanies and drama, which really isn’t the case most of the time; that’s Hollywood thinking. But it’s still true that sometimes there is a single event – something that we read, something insightful that someone says, an abrupt dose of perspective – that provides a new tool in our thinking processes. And just now, I think I might have remembered exactly what it was, or at least a significant one: Clever Hans.
In my adolescence, I had obtained an old book at a garage sale, one describing how to test the intelligence of animals; I’m fairly certain it was Animal IQ (since retitled) by Vance Packard. Testing the comparative reasoning powers of animals is rather tricky, because intelligence is not all that well defined in the first place, and reasoning power is relative to the environment. So even devising a test which gives a useful result takes effort, and within this section of the book, if I remember correctly, came the story of Clever Hans.
Clever Hans was a horse owned by Wilhelm von Osten in Berlin back around a century ago, who could apparently answer questions and perform math, even complicated calculations. Everything, of course, had to be answered by stamping a foreleg. If you’re thinking this sounds rather hackneyed, bear in mind that Hans was the case that created the cliché. In fact, the media attention around Hans’ purported abilities sparked a great deal of research into nonverbal cues and kinesics, because in fact it was owner von Osten that was providing the answers – Hans was simply taking his cues as he’d been taught. He just hadn’t been taught what von Osten was trying to teach.
While it’s not hard to find accounts referring to all of this as a hoax, that doesn’t appear to be the case – von Osten believed that Hans actually possessed superior (for a horse) reasoning powers and had been taught how to read and calculate. He was unaware himself of how Hans had instead learned how to read von Osten’s body language, the tense expectation that prompted the beginning of the hoof stamping, and the relaxation that prompted the halt – that was when he received his treats (and positive reinforcement remains one of the best methods of training animals.) Curiously, Hans may indeed have been different from the average horse, putting together the rewards with the unintentional cues from his owner, and it’s easy to see how this aspect could have been missed in contrast to what he was claimed to be capable of.
There was a significant demonstration of scientific methodology within the case, as well. Those testing Hans noticed that Hans was incapable of answering anything that the person posing the questions (it wasn’t always von Osten) could not answer, which became somewhat suspicious. The addition of a simple screen between horse and questioner brought on an immediate attack of standard horse intellect in Hans, and eventually revealed the horse’s ability to read the subtle cues provided by the questioner. Many, if not most, scientific experiments routinely use the same process of spotting anomalies, speculating on variations of cause, and then working to rule out as many as possible – those that cannot be ruled out obviously have the greatest probability of being correct.
Sometime after that, watching an inaptly-named television program called That’s Incredible!, I saw a dog that could answer math problems chalked on a blackboard – except that, armed with this knowledge now, it was exceptionally obvious how the owner was prompting the dog; three quick short barks, then each bark thereafter was drawn out almost into a growl, and upon reaching the correct number the owner would quickly interrupt. Anyone that has never heard of Hans and never engages in questioning could easily be fooled, and this is abundantly visible everywhere we look, from ‘psychic’ readers to political claims, ‘health’ food fads to revisionist history. In fact, Hans was performing a technique, still in routine use by even televised psychics, called ‘cold reading,’ which gives a rather damning indication of how easy it really is. Typically, as children we are taught to listen; we are rarely, if ever, taught to think or question. Which is, of course, why such simple tactics are successful in the first place.
If, however, we build on the process told within Hans’ story, we can see some of the further issues with determining ‘animal intelligence.’ Intelligence itself is a word largely expressing our conceited standpoint – any species that survives obviously has the properties necessary for that survival – but even from the standpoint of evaluating pattern-recognition, recall, and extrapolation, this runs dangerously close to value-judgments. It’s interesting to see where differences lie, and if there are portions of the brain that might be linked to certain kinds of cognitive function, but is a rabbit ‘smarter’ than a horse if if can remember certain patterns to receive rewards better? Or is it just an artifact of the demands of their environments?
The ability to even ask questions like that, to wonder if there are assumptions or blind perspectives influencing any conclusions, I can trace at least in part back to Clever Hans – which is being unkind, because it wasn’t the horse with the easy-to-remember name, but Oskar Pfungst, the assistant biologist who performed the tests, that provided the lesson in critical thinking. I’m not particularly surprised that the trait of animals taking subconscious cues is called the ‘Clever Hans effect’ rather than the ‘Pfungst phenomenon,’ but it’s unfortunate all the same. Perhaps, if more people were introduced to the values of critical observation, even of simply recognizing that there is usually more than one conclusion that can be drawn from every observation, then just a smidgen of the stupider stuff that we get up to as a species would vanish. And it shouldn’t even bother us to have learned it from a horse – it should be more embarrassing to fail to learn it, really.
I just happened to check in on this when reviewing some old posts, and it seems there are already eggs in the nest. So check out ‘Phoebe,’ a returning resident hummingbird (I apologize for the ads – it’s how the server is hosted):
[You also might enjoy this. I’m a bit of an aircraft enthusiast, and as I was writing this post just now I heard a plane coming over incredibly low. I was getting up to see why someone was so close, in this area that sees practically no aviation activity, when I thought to shut off the computer speakers for a second. Yes, it was coming through the hummer cam…]
Anyway, ‘Phoebe’ is a Channel Islands Allen’s hummingbird (Selasphorus sasin sedentarius) that’s been returning to the same nest for years, and the human residents set up a streaming live web cam to observe her nesting behavior. Soon enough, the young will hatch, and the camera is a great way to observe the behavior. Two years ago I was lucky enough to see the fledglings’ first flights, which were quite amusing – it’s one thing to figure out how to take off, and yet another to, as they say, stick the landing. Imagine, if you will, a sudden surge in humming sounds from offscreen, followed by a green blur crashing into the side of the nest and disappearing again…
At this time of year, you may still see her gathering spider webs, which are used for both lining material and structural support. You’re also certainly going to notice that hummingbirds are hyperactive little things, never actually sitting still at all. This does make photographing them a challenge, especially if you want a natural setting and not a feeder in the shot, but there are some tips to be found on my previous post. Last year I got practically nothing worthwhile in the way of hummingbird images, so we’ll have to see what happens when they arrive this year. It’s still a bit too early to be looking here in NC – the nectar would have frozen solid in the feeder last night.
By the way, if you want a screen capture at any time, simply hit the “Print Screen” (PrtScr, upper right) key on your keyboard, open an image editor, create a new file the size of your screen resolution, and hit paste. Crop as needed.
Have fun!
Nice day out there, so it’s time to go see if there’s anything to be captured in mid-February, with the added incentive that it’s Charles Darwin’s birthday and I should illustrate natural selection. Hmmmm.
Okay, let’s start with the tiny winter flowers that can be found here in North Carolina, in corners and areas that see little traffic. With some poking around, I managed to capture three in the same macro frame (which means less than 4cm.) The blue one at the bottom is bird’s eye speedwell or winter speedwell (Veronica persica,) apparently an imported species; the white one in the middle is star chickweed (Stellaria pubera,) while the purple one at top is the unfortunately named red dead-nettle (Lamium purpureum) – I’m guessing it somehow pissed off a botanist to receive that name. All of these were growing from the same bed, often so close together to make it difficult to differentiate the plants. While I see the red dead-nettle plants more often, this is at least partially because they’re bigger, yet all three seem to do fairly well in the yard – it just takes a close look to see the others, which have flowers roughly 4mm across.
The common belief is that the larger species are the ‘strongest’ or ‘fittest,’ which just says we need to work harder to get the basics of this theory across to people. Biggest does not translate to best, and in fact there is no best in natural selection. The smaller flowers, seemingly at a disadvantage, may reproduce faster, do better in deep shade, or handle the spring saturation much better, and because they’re found in such close proximity, they likely even pull different nutrients from the soil. This would mean that they’re not in competition at all, but complementary, fitting within their own little niches. Also remember that we humans, as big and advanced as we are, remain in constant battles with insignificant little bacteria.
Last spring while preparing the mulch pile for use in the garden, I spotted a small sapling that had erupted from the rich soil, and in removing it I found it was actually an almond tree (Prunus amygdalus.) I have no idea when we tossed out an almond – they’re popular enough around the house that they get eaten quickly, unless they’re in questionable condition – but I tried transplanting it into the yard anyway. This isn’t really the climate for almonds, so I wasn’t expecting much, but what the hey. It grew about three times its height over the summer, never really appearing to thrive, and in the fall some visiting deer stripped all of the leaves from it. Yet today there appear to be new buds, so we’ll have to see what happens. It’s already weathered several days of sub-freezing temperatures, a light snowfall, and a freezing rain storm, plus last summer’s heat wave, so it’s not likely to see worse. The biggest challenge might be that under ten centimeters of topsoil sits Carolina orange clay, and if almonds don’t like that kind of substrate it’s not going to get very big.
I was surprised to see a caterpillar on the rosemary plant (Rosmarinus officinalis) – it was too big to have hatched this year, so it would have come through the winter. After a few pics, however, I nudged it to try and get it into a better position, and it simply collapsed and discharged a copious amount of brown goo. Ah. I guess it didn’t come through the winter after all. Whether a late hatching or an unlucky forager, my photo subject here failed to pupate in a reasonable time frame and probably got caught in one of the cold spells.
I was also lucky enough to find two of my good buddies, American five-lined skinks (Eumeces fasciatus,) sometimes considered blue-tailed skinks for reasons that will become obvious. But this is the issue with common names, since it is shared with at least two species in North America and one in Australia, and I think one in Africa – that’s part of the reason I always try to give the scientific names, which required a bit of web-fu to provide those flower names up top. Many different reptiles have the ability to quickly detach their tails if danger threatens, and since the tail is often brightly-colored and reflexively thrashes about, it draws the attention of the predator while the reptile scampers to safety. And like many species that can lose limbs to escape predation, the tails can grow back relatively quickly, within a few months in this case. I managed not to provoke this behavior while capturing this one, possibly because I had unearthed it under a plastic ground cover and it was still sluggish, not yet ready for the warmer seasons. This allowed me to photograph it in my palm, giving some sense of scale.
This is a juvenile; the adults will lose most of the tail coloration (though not the ability to drop it) and will start displaying the sexual variation in coloring. Thus, the same species is often considered a red-headed skink once it’s larger, if it’s a male. And then, there is an overlap in range with the southeastern five-lined skink (Eumeces inexpectatus) which is almost identical, so actually knowing just what the hell you’ve captured is tricky. If someone corrects me, I’ll go with their expertise, which is the cue for anyone to come along and just start messing with my head.
Actually, it would appear that I’m celebrating Linnaeus day too…
Walkabout podcast – Marvel of design
I delayed this one slightly to serve as my Darwin Day post ;-)
I freely admit that there are some really stunning things to be found in nature – in fact, that’s what many of my ‘Too Cool‘ posts are intended to highlight. Predator/prey relationships, highly specific adaptations, remarkable methods of camouflage – they’re all fascinating and awe-inspiring examples of the natural world’s properties. And, it’s not particularly hard to find someone who will point to these as evidence of a supernatural design, interactions and traits too precise to have arisen at random – this occurs quite frequently, in fact. Naturally (a ha ha) I see some problems with this perspective.
First of all, the idea that it’s ‘random’ is more than a little misleading, a misunderstanding of natural selection the stems from both unfamiliarity and intentional fudging. While genetic variations and mutations are largely random, there’s the ‘selection’ half that’s, really, a very simple algorithm: if it improves the organism’s chances of survival or reproduction, it stands a better chance of being passed to offspring. Add to this the converse – that something detrimental to survival/reproduction is much less likely to pass along – and you have a simple system that produces beneficial changes in species over time. Many people no longer even try to argue against such a selection process, since it’s blindingly obvious how it would work, but instead assert that this would take far too long to produce the drastic changes that had to have occurred. The very same people also ask how come we’ve never seen a new species arise (in the 150 years we’ve even known about this process,) so it’s rather clear that making sense isn’t high on their list of priorities.
Yet there are bigger issues with the ‘design’ aspect than all that. To maintain this perspective of design, one has to possess the same kind of blind spot that fosters a belief in psychic powers: the complete dismissal of every last example that doesn’t support the idea. It’s easy to claim that flowers which mimic female bees to attract pollinators are truly remarkable, but what of the numerous viruses that have sparked pandemics? Moths that avoid being eaten by looking exactly like hummingbirds are almost unbelievable, but what about spiders that fail to fend off the paralyzing stings of wasps, and play host to wasp larvae that eat them alive from within? Perhaps that’s a remarkable design from the wasps’ standpoint, not so much from the spiders’. And let’s not ignore the thousands of species that have gone extinct, absolutely begging the question of what they were designed to do. In fact, the ubiquitous examples of competition, of scarce resources, even of parasites and cancers, really makes the entire idea of design distinctly asinine. Let’s be serious: the first thing anyone would do in designing something is define the goals and ensure sufficient resources. And to be blunt, what possible use is even the ability to change in the first place, much less change for the worst?
The typical answer to such questions is that there is a huge master plan that we cannot fathom. It’s hard not to see this as being opportunistically two-faced, since it was the very idea that we could see the design that causes people to trumpet this design; immediately claiming that it’s a hidden design demonstrates that there’s only one conclusion that’s acceptable, and logic be damned.
Buried within all of this is an even more revealing facet. We’re in awe of flies that mimic spiders because we don’t see it everyday; nature is not completely full of such things. If it were it’d hardly be remarkable, would it? It’s these rare exceptions that capture our attention and seem so unlikely, because most of what we see is rather haphazard. We’re well aware of the damage to ecosystems, the ripple effects of introduced species, and unchecked depredation precisely because they can occur so easily – things can get out of whack without much effort at all. How hard would it be to design stability, or correcting mechanisms? If there are more people in the world hunting bison or dodos, why don’t their populations keep pace? Why are there even more people in the world? And who the hell thought allergies were a great idea?
So many aspects of nature are remarkable only because they’ve come from such simple mechanisms as natural selection. It’s like saying that your child reads at a seventh-grade level; this is something to be proud of if the child is five, not so much if they’re twenty-five. The various traits of organisms are fascinating when viewed from the perspective that they originated from very slight advantages provided by very slight variations and perpetuated by very slight increases in reproductive success – this is, in fact, a perspective that far too many people fail to appreciate. Given a perspective that everything was carefully designed to be this way, we must wonder what kind of a bumbling fool was at work, and what possible outcome was intended. Thousands of people a year die from choking, solely and entirely because the food path crosses over the air path, a plumbing error that we would never accept in our industrial world. Ruminants, the animal class that includes cattle, have to have multiple stomachs to extract sustenance from the horribly inefficient source of grasses. We have seasonal changes across the entire planet because the damn axis is tilted! It’s fascinating how so many species have developed to cope with the huge amount of adversities available, but designed? Please.
Focal length. Some people consider it the “zoom” of a camera. It’s expressed, though not really explained, by the numbers on the lens that say “18-55mm” or some such. Essentially, it determines how close the subject appears, the magnification or lack thereof. There are, naturally, the obvious aspects of using focal length in composition – “short for scenics, long for telephoto” – but there’s much more that can be used to create the images you want.
Only slightly less obvious is the cropping aspect, allowing the photographer to select how much of the frame their subject, and its setting, will take up. In the efforts to simplify the image, or to select just the setting that communicates a particular idea, focal length becomes very important. It’s too easy to include too much, distracting the viewer, or too little, and provide inadequate information for context or locale, so changing the focal length allows for the best control of these.
However, there are specific properties of focal lengths that can be exploited as well. The first of which is depth-of-field. DOF automatically becomes greater at shorter focal lengths, assisting in the pursuit of scenic images – and DOF also reduces for longer focal lengths. This means that it is easier to ‘isolate’ your subject by having it much sharper than the background if you use a longer focal length; the blurry background fails to grab the viewers attention and becomes inconsequential. But be aware that DOF is shorter the closer you focus, for any given focal length. In the illustration here, depth-of-field at f16 is indicated in blue for given focus points A and B, for a long focal length such as 250mm (top) and a short focal length such as 24mm (bottom).
So when focused at point A, DOF is relatively short, but at B it might include everything behind the focal point, all the way to ‘infinity’ (this is called hyperfocal distance.) Notice that DOF is different for the different focal lengths; also notice that it extends further behind the focal point than it does in front of it – this it typical.
And then there’s the sneaky trick: you don’t have to use a long focal length solely for distant subjects. Since DOF is shorter both with a long focal length and with closer focus, you can achieve a narrow DOF by using a telephoto lens, focused as close to the camera as possible. The focal length you use can determine how well DOF works for you. This is the reason why you might hear that focal lengths in the range of 80-120mm are good for portraiture; this allows DOF to cover a person’s face, nose to ears, but not much further, letting the background go soft.
There are other effects as well. Short focal lengths, often referred to as wide-angle lenses, typically introduce a certain level of barrel or spherical distortion, as if the image is projected onto the surface of a sphere. Aspherical lenses correct for this to some extent, but the effect is usually still visible, and this can be made worse by straight lines near the edge of the frame, or that are not parallel to the image plane (for convenience, just consider this the camera back.) Thus, if you tilt the camera back to capture a tall building, the building may lean or even bow in the resulting image. This can be used to accentuate height, if desired, but it can also give your images an unrealistic distortion. Most especially, this can turn up when you’re attempting a wide panoramic image, and efforts should be made to keep the horizon centered in the image to avoid producing a bowed horizon. You can always crop the image more usefully later.
This leads to two quick tips. The first is, shooting frames a little wider than what you envision the final print to be will allow for some wiggle room – it’s easy to crop down, quite a bit harder to add to the image afterwards. Shoot as many frames, in different focal lengths, as needed to ensure you have what you need.
Also, if you’re considering doing a ‘stitched’ panoramic image, putting together several images in a line to make a really wide vista, you probably do not want to use your shortest focal length (widest angle,) because the lens distortion will work against you and the edges will never match up correctly. Instead, use a focal length as close to ‘normal’ perspective as possible, which typically means roughly 32mm for APS-C digital sensors (1.5 or 1.6 ‘crop,’) and 50mm for full-frame digital or film. It will mean more frames, especially when I tell you to overlap the frames by 25-30% – this provides that wiggle room in choosing where to overlap and helps to mask distortion, which gets worse towards the edges of the frame.
Then there’s a little something called forced perspective. The distance of the subject from the camera determines how big it will appear against the background, and this remains the same regardless of the focal length used. While the sun and the moon are quite small in the sky, able to be covered with your thumb at arm’s length, the focal length determines how big they will appear in the frame. Something like a bird or a beachcomber can be distant enough to be quite small – as small as the setting sun, perhaps – and a very long focal length can make them both loom large in the frame (even more than this – remember that you can always crop to make such things take up even more of the frame, but the foreground subject has to be the right distance to give the perspective you desire.) Closely coupled to perspective is your own shooting position, so don’t just stand there – crouch, stand on tiptoe, climb on or under something. Do what it takes to make the most of the different effects of focal length.
Also, the distortion of a wide-angle lens can make small, close subjects become accentuated and very dramatic in the frame, something you can often accomplish easily because short focal lengths can usually focus very close. Also visible in that image is the apparent difference in viewing angle between the bottom and top of the image; you seem to be looking downward at the bottom, but straight out at the horizon at the top – and this really is the case, the same distortion mentioned earlier, and this can be used to good effect to make the image draw the viewer in (it can also be seen in the first image for this post.) Sometimes it helps to consider that a wide-angle lens will produce an image that can ‘curve around’ the viewer. It’s also not hard to imagine why a short focal length is very bad for portraiture.
Something to be aware of, when switching (or zooming) focal lengths, is that the exposure may change because more or less bright sky will be captured, or the background isn’t consistent between a narrow and wide viewing angle. Watch the automatic settings that the camera produces as you switch, and override them if you feel this is necessary.
Another quick tip: longer focal lengths often do not focus very close at all, limiting their use for close subjects, but a simple extension tube can help overcome this. At the same time, it will further shorten depth-of-field, and will eradicate focusing at ‘infinity’ entirely – the longer the extension tube, the more long-distance focus gets cut off.
I never push anyone to obtain more equipment, but if you’re getting the impression that a good range of focal lengths provides for the greatest photo opportunities, you’re not mistaken. And to make the most of it, you should aim for the fastest lenses you can afford (meaning those with the largest maximum f-stop, or smallest f-number, like 2.8 or 4) – these provide even more flexibility in using depth-of-field to your advantage, as well as improving autofocus and giving better low-light performance. I’ll be the first to admit these get expensive, often ridiculously so, and you have to be your own judge about cost versus usefulness; if you’ve only shot a few hundred frames in the past year, spending a lot on lenses may not be justifiable. First, make sure you’re using them to their fullest potential, and remember that it’s your own creativity that produces the image, so exercise that foremost.