Tripod holes 32

August 6, 2023July 26, 2023 Al Denelsbeck

Wilson's snipe Gallinago delicata peeking from foliage in Wakodahatchee Wetlands, Delray Beach, Florida
N 26°28’46.36″ W 80° 8’30.05″ Google Earth location

This location’s pretty precise, because I remember distinctly where I was when I spotted the bird. In fact, this represents the only time that I’ve ever spotted a Wilson’s snipe (Gallinago delicata) in the wild – there remains a slim chance that I encountered one while working in wildlife rehab, but memory tells me it was probably a woodcock instead. Zooming in and out on this location illustrates a lot, actually, and it really has to be seen to be believed. Wakodahatchee Wetlands is a wildlife and wetlands reserve smack in the middle of the overpopulated gated community area of Delray Beach, Florida, and not the place you’d go looking for wildlife photos. I’ve related my (one) experience with it before, so go there for details, and I really do need to return, but it’s not close to other areas that I target when in Florida. Plus I haven’t even been in the state for over a decade, which is embarrassing. But yeah, when you go (and you will,) make sure you’re ready for audio recording as well. Looking at the aerial photos, would you expect to find alligators? Expect to find alligators. And more birds than you can imagine – referring back to those aerial photos, I’m almost certain those white blotches on the little tussocks in the middle of the water are all birds, or at least nests.

While there, you might also want to check out Green Cay Nature Center & Wetlands, about a block west-northwest – I had not, having only found it now on the map, and it’s possible that it didn’t even exist when I was there in… 2000? Somewhere around that time. The maps will reveal portions of the ecology of south Florida, because zooming out, you’ll see Lake Okeechobee to the northwest, which gathers the water that runs through central Florida, partially from the underground caverns that funnel water down from the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia, and partially because it rains horrendously damn near every afternoon in the summer in Florida (the meteorologists tell me I’m exaggerating, but the residents tell me I’m understating it.) Anyway, this water flows out of the lake into the Loxahatchee Refuge, slopping over into Delray Beach and other bordering areas, but mostly runs south to form the Everglades – really, Florida is damn wet in most areas, and it doesn’t take a sharp eye to see all of the water management efforts installed to provide a semblance of dry land to the residents and developers. And this says nothing about getting hit with hurricanes way too frequently. It’s okay to visit, the subtropics being great conditions to find more exotic wildlife than most of the country, but you really wouldn’t want to live there.

Junk drawer

August 5, 2023 Al Denelsbeck

Time to clean out the things that I’ve been holding onto for too long. Well, it hasn’t been that long for these, really, I’ve just been neglecting to post them in a more timely manner. So let’s do them in order, shall we?

possible pearl crescent Phyciodes tharos on butterfly bush Buddleia davidii blossoms
This is possibly a pearl crescent butterfly (Phyciodes tharos,) or it might be another of three or four more species that look remarkably similar but have trivial differences in markings, mostly on the underwings, which is something that makes giving the proper taxonomy for posts challenging sometimes. But let’s put it this way: I wouldn’t be the only one who made the mistake, and those who can tell the difference are likely used to it. The plant I can identify confidently, though: it’s a butterfly bush (Buddleia davidii,) even if there are countless cultivars for different colors, two of which we have, and you’ll see another in a little bit. I got lucky in being able to lean in close to this one before it spooked off or simply left in that manic way of theirs. The butterfly, I mean, not the bush, which is overall pretty mellow.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis peeking around rose stem
Just a nice dynamic pose from one of the adult Carolina anoles (Anolis carolinensis.) I’m fairly certain that I saw this particular one scarf down a pearl crescent just two days ago, too quickly for me to snag the camera. It’s a shame, because that’s the kind of behavior that I want to capture, on video preferably, but I’m mostly to blame in that I haven’t been staking them out like I should. Heat stroke has been a real possibility in making such attempts recently, though, and thus I’ll blame it on conditions instead…

osprey Pandion haliaetus looking at photographer from nearby perch
I went down to the lake, oh, about eleven days ago, to see what could be found, and the answer was, not much – certainly nothing like the conditions from, damn, about two months back now. This osprey (Pandion haliaetus) was perched on a prominent branch and, while quite well aware of my presence, let me creep in fairly close as long as I was casual about it. The bird was disinclined to do any hunting, but its attention on the water told me that it was waiting for the right conditions.

It did eventually fly off, but while I was still remaining in my spot, and settled on a perch not too far away, and then as I was on my return leg around the lakeshore, I spooked it from there and it returned to the exact same perch, and so I backtracked slightly for another few frames, because really, there wasn’t a damn thing else going on.

osprey Pandion haliaetus not looking at photographer from nearby perch
Note the same position of the feet, too, indicating that this is a left-brained, creative type osprey rather than a right-brained analytical type. Okay, no it doesn’t, and that ‘left-brain/right-brain’ stuff isn’t a thing anyway, yet it did make me check the photo sequence to ensure that these weren’t taken at the same time, but no: 18 minutes apart, and you can see the difference in the sky and foreground pine needles anyway.

very young Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis perched on blossoms of butterfly bush Buddleia davidii
I did eventually capture one of the newborn Carolina anoles on a flower cluster of a butterfly bush, intending for a nice scale shot, but even to me it doesn’t carry the concept as well as I’d hoped, and of course if you’re not quite familiar with butterfly bush flowers you have no real idea anyway. If you’re looking at this on your smutphone, however (shame on you!), you’re probably pretty close to seeing this at life-size. Nose to tail-tip, the anole might have spanned just slightly more than your four fingers across.

eastern tiger swallowtail Papilio glaucus partaking of black night butterfly bush Buddleia davidii
This is the same eastern tiger swallowtail (Papilio glaucus) from the month-end post, who was endeavoring to get every possible drop of nectar from the butterfly bushes, including this ‘black night’ variety – it returned many times during the day, and visited all three bushes. I’d had a hard time establishing the butterfly bushes in the yard here at Walkabout Estates, and finally called it quits this year and transplanted all of them into big pots, whereupon they exploded with growth – they really don’t like the natural soil conditions that we have. This means, however, that the greenhouse is going to be even more full in the winter, and I suspect I’ll be building another little one for the overflow. Sheesh.

newborn Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis tucked within leaf of peach tree for the evening
You can never have too many bebby anoles, is what I always say (every morning upon rising,) and this one takes that to heart, not just by appearing here within the blogoblob but by appearing on the peach tree in the back forty, well away from the other two that I’m routinely tracking; in other words, this is a third newborn for this year. So far. The only thing we’re doing is providing lots of plants (and ‘exposure,’) but I guess it’s working. And here I didn’t think much of anyone was reading these posts, but it appears they’re popular somewhere. I’ll continue to do my part.

I am fail

August 1, 2023 Al Denelsbeck

Yet another holiday rears its ugly head, but this time I was unable to celebrate it, and I apologize for not letting you know sooner, but what am I, your mother? (Seriously, am I? Because there’s a period from my early thirties that is largely blank, and I suspect my memory was wiped, so who knows what I was up to?) Anyway, the holiday is (still, as I type this, so you have a chance,) International Capture A Red Sprite Day. No, it’s not about soft drinks nor communist elves, but the vague and ephemeral discharges that occasionally happen above electrical storms. There is a very slim chance that I captured a couple of vestiges a few years back, but of course that was not on the holiday. Now, I have these as a goal on my mental list constantly, but most times I haven’t the distant view of storms that is necessary, so opportunities have been scarce. But as lightning was seen sporadically to the south of Walkabout Studios, I trekked down to Jordan Lake to see what could be found.

None of the visible thunderheads were producing anything at all, however, and I could tell where the thunderheads were because the moon was quite bright and largely unobscured from my location, so it was lighting up any clouds within 40 kilometers or more. I decided to play around with this light since I’d made the trip.

I could just barely make out this heron from where I stood, and fired off a few frames to see what I could capture – this is 12 seconds at f8, ISO 400, and strictly moonlight on the water. The heron didn’t have to stand still for too long, but was nicely cooperative in that respect.

And a similar one.

I’ve passed these rocks dozens of times – they’re just rocks, nothing at all remarkable about them – but the moonlight on the water worked fairly well with them. I pretend I can do fartistic things now and then, when I’m not pretending I’m an astronaut race car driver.

The few clouds soon vanished almost entirely, and between aircraft (there was a serious buttload of planes coming in and out of Raleigh-Durham Airport, of which the lake sits in line with the approach and departure corridors,) I played around with other things by moonlight, because again, I was already there. There wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy about this one, except for the interloper:

See the large indistinct blurs in the sky? Yeah, I couldn’t while framing and focusing, because it took a two-minute exposure to even show them this well, but I saw it when I chimped at the image afterward. I then took the headlamp and went around to the front of the camera to chase off the lacewing, who was wandering around on the glass during the exposure and, I found, there for a previous exposure as well. This is the second time that I’ve had insects on my lens while doing time exposures at this very location, so I suspect they’re doing it on purpose.

All of these were actually taken last night, before midnight, so weren’t even during the holiday in the first place, but I would have lied had I actually caught a red sprite. Regardless, I figured I’d exhausted my options and was packing up and heading back towards the car when I caught a dim flash of light in the sky – and then another. Cutting through a small copse of trees on a point of land, I found that many kilometers away (the far side of Raleigh,) there was an active thunderhead, so distant that no lightning could show over the horizon, but the clouds were lighting up – significantly, I might add, because I was seeing them through the trees. So, I set up the tripod aimed in that direction now.

Exposure times and settings were tricky, because the moon was very bright now and the sky could easily become too exposed to show much, especially of the distant storm. I hadn’t brought the long lens so this is at 135mm, and there was nothing I could do about the electrical poles in the image. This is just to show what the thunderhead itself looked like in the conditions, and is 11 seconds at f8, ISO 800 – the storm would produce two to three bursts of light within the clouds in that time, fairly dependably. But now I had my holiday opportunity! Knowing (now) that red sprites tend to happen very high above the clouds that they emanate from, I switched to vertical and much wider, to see what I could of the sky above the storm.

Alas, despite the clear sky, the thunderhead was only 40-50° off from the bright moon with the humidity still high, so the sky would light up significantly with even relatively short exposures – this is a mere 17 seconds, f11, ISO 800, and while I only suspect that I’ve actively seen (as opposed to capturing within the camera) a sprite once or twice, I’m fairly confident they’re quite dim. Meaning this much light in the sky was likely enough to obscure them had they occurred, though I was watching carefully and saw nothing even remotely like one.

While doing this, however, it passed midnight and made it today, which meant I was now on holiday time. Motivated by this, I remained and fired off several more frames in the vague hope that I might at least find something under enhancement, but it was not to be. It will happen one of these days, because I’m determined to capture some and of course the determination of human beings transcends luck and physics – except when it doesn’t, but that’s only because someone didn’t pray hard enough. Or so I’m told…

Holy mackerel, is that the time?

July 31, 2023July 30, 2023 Al Denelsbeck

Shit, July’s gotta flee the ball, leaving behind one ratty water sandal that the prince isn’t even going to risk touching and instead simply put some ‘Biohazard’ tape around and go peruse Tinder instead. Yes indeedydo, it’s the end of the month, and what kind of abstract image did our evil stepphotographer prepare for us?

something brown and speckled and vaguely three-dimensional
Why, it’s… that. You know what that is, of course – far be it from me to insult your intelligence by having to spell it out. But just to avoid embarrassment, you can whisper it in my ear and I’ll confirm if you’re right.

Yet we have more than one for the month, kinda making up for a paucity of both photos and posts, though you know how fucking hot it’s been so I ain’t apologizing for nuthin’ – you should apologize to me for even expecting anything during these conditions. No no no, I don’t want to hear any of this, “Yeah, but you could simply have stayed indoors and done some pseudo-philosophical or research or even your terrible ideas of what humor is posts,” because that’s just trying to avert the blame, and that’s not allowed here.

[Can you tell that I wrote this back-to-back with the previous? Yeah, I actually do some planning for the blogoblob, dog knows why…]

Where were we? [Who said, “Lost at sea as usual”? Stand up you little coward.] Another abstract! That’s right. It looks kinda like this:

color pattern and 'wing wattle' of eastern tiger swallowtail Papilio glaucus in yellow phase
… only not exactly, because it’s too easy to tell this is the hindwing pattern on an eastern tiger swallowtail (Papilio glaucus) – which might help you with the previous image. This wasn’t quite intended for today, though I did go in close for the pattern colors when the swallowtail was being remarkably cooperative. Certainly acceptable for handheld macro work at f4 in natural light, of a hyperactive and normally spooky subject. Yes, your standards are that low, otherwise you wouldn’t even be here, don’t try getting picky now.

But wait? A third you say? Oh, you didn’t, you were just calling me names, but there’s a third anyway, and I saved it for last because it’s easily my favorite, and indeed shot only hours before it was needed on a specific quest to get such a thing.

very young Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis just visible from under leaves of gardenia bush at night
Yeah, I’ve done a lot of the anoles – I’ve been trying to avoid posting too many, but see above about fucking hot, and seriously, you can’t knock this image because I’ll delete your comment (and here you though no one ever commented. They don’t, actually, but now I can pretend they do, just derogatorily, and I thus eradicate them. This is not exactly a huge step forward is it?) I had spotted this bebby Carolina anole (Anolis carolinensis) bedding down on the gardenia bush earlier and snagged a shot before it was fully settled in, just after sundown, but later on it had adopted this position and I went in overhead for just the snout. The other leaves blocking some of the light from the softbox produced this effect, which I really like and so this one’s becoming a print very soon.

There are a couple of other non-abstract images that may slip in before the day is over, though if not, they’ll be along shortly. It’s been a non-web project week, yet I’m getting back to things now.

Causality

July 30, 2023 Al Denelsbeck

So, here’s the thing about fate and causality: if you know something is supposed to happen, is it better to simply let it happen and not screw with the trouser legs of time and multiverses and all that jazz, or attempt to prevent it from happening and defeat causality and potentially kill yourself and all mankind because Fate is a butterfly that might be eaten by the garden spider of Nopredestiny? I mean, we’re kind of a weird species in that we’ll believe any dumbass thing about rigged elections without a shred of evidence, but faced with the potential to wipe ourselves out by ignoring well-established science, we’ll chuckle and say, “Never gonna happen.”

All that is simply pondering, however, because I didn’t get the chance to test it (causality I mean, not mankind’s and especially American stupidity, because that hardly needs further proof,) since I failed to realize it was a holiday until after it was too late. What’s the event? Why, Get Busted By A Cat While Attempting to Procure the Month-end Abstract, of course – where have you been?

Little Girl watching what the photographer was doing through the window
Yeah, I knew the holiday was coming up, I simply lost track of the days, and was reminded of it when the light from the headlamp caught Little Girl here, but by then it was already too late to consider just not celebrating it. In many cases I’m not even specifically trying to take an image intended for the month’s end, it simply happens sometime during the month, but not this time, partially because I haven’t been shooting much. Most of the search this evening took place well away from any windows that the cat had access to, so it would have been easy to avoid – but then what would happen if I eradicated the holiday in this manner (especially since there aren’t a whole lot of other people even trying for month-end abstract images – it’s kind of a stupid holiday, when you think about it)? Did I, entirely by accident, save the world from a horrendous fate? Does that deserve recognition in the form of a nice red velvet cake and perhaps a Tamron SP AF 180mm F/3.5 Di LD (IF) macro lens, or is there no such thing as an accidental hero? We’ll never know for sure, but the lens is a nice gesture to split the difference, I would think.

I did succeed in getting the abstract, by the way – more than one, and you’ll see them shortly. Meanwhile, you still have a little time yourself to take up shooting an abstract image for the end of the month, then hang around the windows until your cat notices (perhaps even time to get a cat if needed) – though, again, does this count as Getting Busted if you not only know it’ll happen, you help it along? Hey, you can court the destruction of the universe in that way, I’m staying out of it.

Tripod holes 31

July 30, 2023July 26, 2023 Al Denelsbeck

Honeoye Falls in Honeoye Falls, NY nearly frozen over
N 42°57’7.65″ W 77°35’29.76″ Google Earth location

I think everyone in the northern hemisphere is feeling the heat these days, so we needed a cold one, thus this jumps ahead in the lineup. And I’m a day early for the scheduled abstract, but we’ll cope.

This is Honeoye Falls on Honeoye Creek in the town of (wait for it) Honeoye Falls, NY, back when I had relatives living there – this was in 1993. I had moved down to NC three years earlier, but returned for the holiday season, the only time that I ventured back to NY during the winter – I had left the state, in part, because of the winters. My arrival coincided with a decent cold snap, and the small falls that provided the name had frozen, not exactly over, but thick enough that it made an interesting sight, and the only time (so far) that I’ve seen a frozen waterfall or cascade. Most of the ones I know, first of all, are in mid-latitudes and so don’t see long or serious cold snaps very often, but they’re also not within easy access, usually requiring a hike on mountain trails or a long drive through the mountains, and these are not things to tackle when the weather is icy; in most cases, access would be denied by the Parks Department anyway. These little falls, however, were within easy reach, and this was taken from a railing overlooking the creek.

I was staying not too far from Cayuga Lake where I grew up, and I recall that I visited that lake on the first day there, finding it clear except for some light ice around the edges. Returning a few days later (after my side trip to Honeoye Falls and thus this photo,) I found the lake frozen over solid, something that I’d rarely witnessed, and so thick that a large rock hurled onto the surface only produced a star pattern, like a cracked windshield, in the ice. Impressive, and it spoke to the drastic temperature drop. According to my brother, who still lives in the general area, now the winters have become so warm that people are selling off their snowmobiles, having too little snow accumulation to use them.

And now, a little confession. Sometime afterward, the negatives for this photo went missing, and all I had were the original 4×6 prints. Wanting to keep them (this was long before I was building my photo stock,) I ended up placing the prints on a flat surface in the sunlight and reshooting them, so this is a scan of that negative, and actually looked like this:

original copy image of frozen Honeoye Falls
As you can see, I wasn’t quite dead-on perpendicular and the color register was off, though possibly from the scan of that negative or perhaps even from the original print, but both had to be corrected for this post. It was more an exercise than anything, because I’m not that motivated to retain this in stock anymore, but hey, we needed an icy photo, didn’t we? Okay then.

I am at a loss

July 26, 2023 Al Denelsbeck

Checking out the back forty of Walkabout Estates by the headlamp tonight, I bent down to pick up a couple of things, stood up, and found myself face-to-face with an eastern deer mouse (Peromyscus maniculatus) perched atop the fence. I’ve seen this several times before – they seem to like traversing the fence – but this one stayed put, even as I leaned close, and flinched as I gently poked its rump yet didn’t leave its post. I found it curious, but I didn’t have the camera or even my (urk!) smutphone to get a photo, so I left it alone and started checking out the rest of the yard. Returning a couple of minutes later, I found it still in the same place, still remaining as I leaned in close, and so I decided, if it was this cooperative, I’d go in and get the camera. I had to hook up the macro flash and switch lenses, and I was sure that it would have gone by the time I returned a few minutes later. I was wrong.

eastern deer mouse Peromyscus maniculatus atop fence post at night
This was totally unprecedented, but far be it from me to pass up the opportunity, so I started firing off the frames, working my way closer and changing angles where I could – still being careful not to disturb the fence or make too much noise, mind you, but I’d already spoken to it on that initial encounter, expecting it to hurtle off at the sound of my voice, and this hadn’t occurred.

eastern deer mouse Peromyscus maniculatus considering its path down from the top of the fence
I was watching it carefully at this point, wondering what was making it reluctant to flee, and never could determine why this might be. I thought perhaps its foot was caught, but no, it showed full mobility in all legs, even switching to another fence post at one point before switching back. It started head-down once, pausing before it relinquished its hind foot’s grip on the top, as if scared of falling. These guys are great climbers and of course it had gotten up there on its own, so this wasn’t making sense; it was also well beyond juvenile size so unlikely the first time that it had climbed this high. Out of curiosity I examined the ground beneath the fence, on both sides, for any evidence of a predator like a snake – nothing.

eastern deer mouse Peromyscus maniculatus providing portrait pose
I left it be after several frames and watered the plants, which takes some time (there are 26 pots I think,) and it was still there when I returned. Bizarre.

I came in and unloaded the memory card, and decided my model needed a treat, going back out with a small handful of cat food and a fragment of dog biscuit. This time there was no sign of the mouse, so whatever issue that it had was now overcome. I still left out the food, because I’m a guy.

Meanwhile, rather than make an entirely separate post, I’ll just throw down the moon from earlier in the evening, because it looks sharp. We are closing in on the (scheduled) peaks of two meteor showers, the delta Aquariids and the alpha Capricornids, and perhaps after the moon drops low enough I’ll make an attempt at them, tonight or tomorrow night – we’ll see what happens. We all know my luck with meteors, so don’t be looking anxiously for posts.

waxing gibbous moon at twilight

Brains are weird

July 26, 2023 Al Denelsbeck

Well, some are at least…

I’m sorting images right now, and a lot of them were shot vertically but not rotated until now, more than a handful of which I was fairly sure were going to be discarded anyway so I didn’t bother – why I decided to save this admittedly minuscule effort is a question for another post. And no, I don’t have my thumbnail/gallery program (XnView Multiplatform) set to read the EXIF orientation automatically because this doesn’t work for HTML and the blog, so I’d end up uploading images that are still sideways – it’s happened before.

What I’ve found, however, is that when the image is sideways, I have difficulty telling whether it’s sharp or not. This makes absolutely no sense, I’m well aware of that, and it’s likely psychological in origin, but it still means I have to orient the image properly to know if I should even be discarding it.

Except, it seems to work mostly with ‘faces.’

gray wolf at Animal Park at Conservator's Center
This particular aspect tells me it’s probably psychological, because I didn’t have any problems with insects, especially ones that didn’t show their ‘faces’ at all.

junebugs congregating on tree
I can tell myself that I’m only looking for sharpness and that obviously isn’t changed at all by orientation, but my subconscious mind still whines, I can’t see it clearly this way. It’s not like I’m trying to read, which I can actually do halfway decently sideways though the same inner anxiety is probably still fretting. And since I’m not just looking at sharpness, but composition and contrast and all that, it helps to be upright even though none of those are affected either.

I found out some time back, too, that while I can identify helicopter models quite readily, turn the image upside-down and that almost goes away entirely – admittedly, this was applying to military gunships that have many of the same traits, but oriented properly I could name them in a snap while I was almost completely lost when they were inverted. There’s probably a good evolutionary reason as to why this should be the case, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it would be. I mean, upside-down helicopters have an obvious problem, no argument, but there’s nothing threatening or distinctly ‘wrong’ about a sideways face.

All right, I’ve wasted enough time – back to sorting.

Tripod holes 30

July 23, 2023July 22, 2023 Al Denelsbeck

Malachite butterfly Siproeta stelenes ready for action
N 36° 1’48.03″ W 78°53’50.60″ Google Earth location

While the location shown provides a high likelihood of seeing this species, it really only applies to precisely the location shown. Because this is the Butterfly House of the Museum of Life and Science in Durham, yet malachites (the butterfly, Siproeta stelenes) are not native to North Carolina. Nonetheless, the Butterfly House provides plenty of opportunities not just for closeups of a wide variety of Lepidoptora, but fartistic compositions and behavior and even emerging from chrysalises (or chrysalides of you like, an acceptable alternative plural.) It is a semi-routine spot that I visit, though it’s been a few years since I was last there, despite vowing to get there this past winter. See, it’s a great place to visit in the winter because the butterflies are visible year-round, providing something to photograph in the cold lean months. But it’s best to go on a sunny day because the lighting is almost entirely from the greenhouse roof, so things look best in the sunlight plus you have enough light for faster shutter speeds, often necessary for the occupants. And preferably on a not-too-cold day simply from the idea that you have to hike a little ways outdoors to reach the Butterfly House from the entrance, and you’d probably want a light jacket because the greenhouse area itself is essentially a tropical rainforest in climate and you’re not going to want a heavy coat. Free time and sunny conditions simply did not coincide this past winter, and so I never got there.

You can visit in summer of course, but a word of warning for doing photography no matter when: the conditions will fog up your lenses if the lenses aren’t warm enough. So coming out of the cold, or unpacking the camera from the insulating padded camera bag when it’s been sitting in air conditioning for a while, means leaving the camera out with the lens cap on for several minutes while it warms up enough to prevent condensation. And for dog’s sake, do not try to switch lenses, because condensation on the front surface is bad enough, but getting it inside the lens (and/or the mirror box of the camera itself) is notoriously difficult to clear – I made this mistake one muggy evening in Florida with a camera that had sat indoors all day. Just be patient.

Avoid weekends too, because of the plethora of young children hurtling around in total disregard, but you’ll never be completely free of them, you can just avoid the bulk. Meanwhile, the Museum of Life and Science has a ton of other things to photograph as well, some easy, some that take effort and luck. Definitely worth a visit.

That’s a little better

July 22, 2023 Al Denelsbeck

juvenile green treefrog Dryophytes cinereus in closeup showing softbox reflection
Switched out the ‘clear’ diffuser for the white one on the new softbox, and the difference is noticeable – what we’re looking at here is the round light reflecting from the frog’s eye. Still not perfectly even, but probably the best I can hope for with this design (yes, I’ve actually considered a backwards-facing flash head into a parabola, but the ability to reach out over the subject is also important, so such a thing would be awkward.) Anyway, I’m going with this for the time being.

This green treefrog (Dryophytes cinereus,) by the way, is half the size of the one previously, perhaps as big as the top joint of your thumb – I had to crop to nearly full-resolution to show the softbox reflection in detail, so most of the time it will go entirely unnoticed. The size of the frog is a little more evident when compared to the thorns of the rose bush it was perched so action-readily upon.

juvenile green treefrog Dryophytes cinereus perched on rose bush

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