Quick shoveler post

A handsome northern shoveler drake doing a little preening...





... or perhaps some duck yoga:

An elegant pair

American avocets are one of my favorite birds to watch and photograph. Their interesting feeding behavior of slicing their bill through the top layers of the sediment is quite entertaining! But what draws me in the most about them is their elegant form and beautiful plumage. While their summer colors are certainly much more striking, I think their winter look retains a subdued elegance.

Here's an extra shot I posted to Flickr over the summer of their wonderful breeding colors:

Perhaps I should have been paid a sitting fee

I have never had a great blue heron be quite as cooperative as this one, which I photographed in October at Bothin Marsh along Richardson Bay after spending the sunrise at the Golden Gate Bridge. I saw this GBH and its snowy egret posse a ways off by the shore of the bay, and decided to take a stroll along a side trail in that direction to attempt a few shots before the last of the nice light faded away. Much to my surprise, he showed very little interest in me as I approached, and as I casually crept closer over a period of 20 minutes or so, he occasionally glanced in my direction but never showed any signs of interest or distress. Eventually I was able to get close enough to take this full-frame portrait of him, as well as a few from other angles with different backdrops. While it was great to get some nice poses, it was almost a little boring, as he just sat there staring off at the bay! After I fired off way too many similar shots like this one, I thanked him (as I often do for my cooperative subjects), and slowly backed my way out of the area.

The nonchalance of this heron is one advantage I find to spending some time in more urban parks. I have had many fairly close encounters in Bothin Marsh, and I think its due to the fact that what seems like thousands of people use this stretch of the Bay Trail daily, and the birds seem to get used to the commotion and could basically care less if you are there snapping away.

A quiet moment

I enjoy how an image can capture a moment that may have an entirely different feeling than what you perceive as you see it in real time. Here, this dowitcher was actively preening and doing his best to get that overly long bill to properly reach his front feathers. But when the shutter clicks, the scene is transformed into a very solitary moment. To me at least, it gives the feeling of silence and a quiet introspective, as if the dowitcher is taking a moment to relax, close his eyes, and just be.

Shoveler at Rest

Northern shovelers are one of my favorite ducks. I think they are strikingly beautiful -- from their exaggerated bills to their subtly bright colors. In this shot, I really like how the yellow of the eye stands out from that deep green head. Taken at the Radio Road Ponds in Redwood City a few weeks back.

Overcast exposure

Fall in the Bay Area means the start of some wonderful overcast days with high clouds all day and little chance of surprise rain. These are great days photographically, as you are not limited to the nice light that ends 2 hours after sunrise. This shot was taken on an overcast day in September. We had family in town and took them to the always spectacular Point Lobos State Reserve near Monterey. Everyone was disappointed that there were heavy clouds around all day, meaning no beautiful blue ocean. But the photographer in me was secretly pleased, as it meant that an encounter like this would be possible -- with no harsh light to be found.

Dilapidation

Its interesting to me how scenes of dilapidation can evoke such different responses. When I see urban dilapidation, it often comes with feelings of sorrow and sadness -- but when I find dilapidation in a rural scene, it can have a romantic side. Perhaps an inherent feeling of missing the 'simple days' of an era that has passed.



Here are two shots of a rural scene with a shed that appears to be on its last legs. Something about this scene has drawn me in every time I've seen it, but the many times I've been there in the full sun, it just didn't have the right feeling for me to get out the camera. On this overcast morning however, I finally felt the time was right to photograph it. Perhaps a sign that this was truly the appropriate time to make this image was that as I was standing there I had a wonderful flyby of a pair of mute swans. (Which, by the way, are nothing close to mute while they are flying. I heard them coming long before I saw them!). This image gives a neat contrast of this dilapidated scene with the bright elegant form of the swans in flight.

Golden Gate at Sunrise

Ever since moving to the Bay Area a few years ago and seeing the bridge covered in fog and then seeing the many amazing pictures of this scene, I have been chasing that moment. I regret to report that I still have yet to get the shot I want, but I started heading in the right direction a few weeks back. I was planning to head to Bothin Marsh in the Mill Valley area, and as I was crossing the Richmond-San Rafael bridge before sunrise I saw a chance for the shot I’m picturing. I could see clearly that the southern pillar was in the fog, and the northern was clear. So I decided to give it a shot and go for it. I passed by Bothin on 101, and decided to head down to Fort Baker, which is a place I had not previously visited.

To my surprise, I found the parking area full near the fishing pier and a ton of people there reeling in their catch as the sun came up over the horizon. Here's a view in the opposite direction, with the Transamerica Building reaching above the fog.



What amazed me the most about spending 20 or so minutes there is how dynamic the fog was. At times it would cover half of the bridge completely, and then a few minutes later most of the span, including both pillars would be clear in the sun. It was quite fun to shoot, but I think there is probably a better vantage point at a location other than the fishing pier down there. It was a beautiful morning, but I’m still chasing that glory-shot of half of the bridge in golden morning light with half in fog.

Broken trust and a final glance (Part 4)

(This is the fourth and final part of my Saturday morning encounter with this beautiful coyote)

After unsuccessfully finding anything to eat in the area directly ahead of me, the coyote headed down a small slope and into a brush-area. I again got to watch the entertaining hunting behavior of pouncing and shoving your snout into a burrow, but he was unsuccessful in his multiple attempts.



At this point, he was following a trail that made a big arc around where I was sitting, and while occasionally giving me a glance, he came quite close (perhaps 10-15 yards) of me. For the first time, I started to feel just a little uneasy, and I started talking to him to get his attention, saying, “Hey, we’re cool right? No need to get too much closer.” He stared at me quizzically for a while, and then went back to sniffing the ground.



He found a good scent trail and make an arc in the other direction, but one that came even closer to my position.





I loved the opportunity to take some close shots, but I was constantly rotating the camera and trying to keep my tripod and lens between me and the coyote at all times. Unfortunately, I had rotated as far as possible without having to move my feet, and when I stepped into a new position I made a loud shuffling sound and startled him. He gave me a worried glance, tucked his tail under and sprinted to a further distance. He then gave me this final glance, which I read as a look of the broken trust that we had temporarily had between us, before sniffing the air and running away.



I hung around the area for another 20 minutes or so, but he never returned.



These are the kind of experiences that make it so worth getting up well before the crack of dawn on a Saturday in order to get to the trailhead at by sunrise. It never really crossed my mind that I’d ever have a chance to spend some time with a wild coyote. You just never know what to expect on a trip to Point Reyes – which always makes it enjoyable.

Nose to the Ground (Part 3)

(This is Part 3 of my Saturday morning encounter at Point Reyes -- quick links to Part 1 and Part 2)

I enjoyed the company of the deer for a while longer, before they left for the field on the other side of the road. At this point, I considered packing up and heading to a different trailhead (and perhaps one with a bit less fog), but instead I became interested in the sparrows bouncing about and the beautiful backlit morning dew drops on the grass (subjects of a future post). After being lost in the small-scale pleasure of the dew for maybe 10-15 minutes, I looked up to find that the coyote had returned to the area, and was following the scent trail of the rodents that had pock-marked the ground with their burrows.



He was in serious tracking mode, as he rarely lifted his snout from the ground.



He gave me a few uneasy glances, but at this time, I was crouching low with my tripod working on some ground-level psuedo-macros and apparently I seemed unthreatening enough that he continued about his business of sniffing for rodents.



All the while, the fog was in constant flux going between pea-soup and just a light mist, and these shots gave me some of the best light of the morning as the sun almost made it through. As an aside, you can see in this series that it was a wet morning, as his fur looked like he had just been through a shower -- perhaps just some tall grass on the hillside. I was thankful to have a pair of gloves in my pocket, which I've come to realize is a must for morning photography in the Bay Area, almost year-round.



It was early even for the coyote, who engaged in a big yawn.



More of my encounter coming tomorrow.

Uneasy (Part 2)

(Part two of my Saturday morning wildlife encouter -- part one can be found here.)



As I was following the mother and youngster through my lens, their ears went up and they went onto high alert.



It was cute how the youngster acted just like the mother -- probably a good sign for its long-term outlook. (As a side note, when they are being very attentive like this, its quite easy to see why they are called mule deer. The ears look almost too big for this little one!)



The little one was maybe 10 yards away from Mom, and made a hasty retreat to her side.



With their fur puffed out, they made some aggressive stances while staring off into the distance (not at me).



I was enjoying their look, and it took a few minutes to dawn on me that I should probably turn around to see what was causing their concern. To my surprise the coyote I spied earlier was cruising through the parking lot area. He hung out between myself and my car while trying to decide what to do, which made the decision easier for me to just stay put and see what was going to unfold.



It seemed like the coyote wanted to get to the field on the other side of the road (perhaps where he just came from), but the mother deer had moved into the way. So instead, the coyote crossed the parking lot a few times while trying to decide what to do. Eventually, the mother gave a short charge and the coyote took off and hid behind the fence before wandering off up the hillside.



The story continues tomorrow with Part 3...

Leading up to the encounter (Part 1)

(As I mentioned in my previous post, I had a great wildlife encounter on Saturday morning, and I'm planning to tell the story through a series of posts this week -- I hope you enjoy them.)

I knew I wanted to get out this Saturday morning to take advantage of the last late sunrise for a while, and since it had been a few weeks since I’d been to Point Reyes, that seemed like the place to be. You never know what to expect in this gorgeous park, and it very rarely disappoints (as long as you are open to seeing something other than what you planned). I felt like trying a new locale and after consulting one of my favorite guide books (Birding Northern California by John Kemper) and doing some searches in google and on Flickr, I settled on going all the way out to the point of Point Reyes to the Fish Docks area near Chimney Rock. My hope was to find some owls, which I did see one thanks to a very friendly visitor who was there even before I was – but the real joy of this trip was an unexpected encounter with a beautiful coyote.

My experience with coyotes is most typically seeing one out the car window as it sprints away from view. Very rarely do I ever get to watch one for more than a few moments, and even more infrequent are encounters while on foot, which has always been at quite a distance. (As an aside, one of my favorite experiences was a sunrise hike at Limantour Spit while I was serenaded with coyote howls for about 20 minutes. It's a beautiful sound, but also a tad unnerving.) My experience on this morning started as they normally do, where I saw one hunting alongside the road as I approached the trailhead parking lot. This was before the sun had come over the horizon, and in very heavy fog, so while I tried a few shots from out the window, none of them worked. However, I did get to watch the typical pouncing of their hunting behavior, and I even saw him snack on a good sized breakfast. But after he finished eating, he slipped away into the fog.

So I continued on to the parking lot, got my gear out and found a lovely mother mule deer and her youngster who had camped out near the bathrooms under a few bushes. I got to watch as they started their day with a few stretches and some grazing on the dew covered greens near the parking lot.

Mother mule deer:


Her youngster:


Grazing together:


It seemed like every individual blade of grass and small stick was covered with dew, which adds a nice sparkle to the shots.

Coyote in the dew

I took advantage of the last weekend of 7:30am sunrises for a while by waking up at 5:20 and heading out to the tip of the Point Reyes peninsula at the Chimney Rock area. The fog stayed heavy throughout the morning, which made the photography a bit more challenging than usual to get a sharp shot, but I managed to snag a few nice ones from a terrific encounter with this coyote. I'm in the process of writing up some future posts to tell the story, but I wanted to share a shot ahead of time. With the air heavy with moisture, the world was covered in dew drops, which made for a beautiful setting as the sun came up and brightened the fog.



In addition to the coyote and some deer that will play a role in the story, I saw a variety of songbirds, as well as a great horned owl (no chance of a nice image, unfortunately) and I heard the calls of some male elephant seals down below the overlook.

Calling dowitcher

There were plenty of dowitchers (your guess is as good as mine for long-billed vs short-billed) lining the ponds along Radio Road. These are a beautiful medium-sized shorebird that I'm quite fond of, but haven't had a chance to photograph up close very often. Here, they seemed like they could care less about the flocks of bird-watchers milling around, and they happily went about their business.

Finally found some skimmers!

I've been fascinated by these birds ever since I first saw them in a nature documentary (perhaps the fabulous "Life of Birds" with David Attenborough), and have been itching to get them in front of my lens ever since I started getting into bird photography. Their range is supposed to be just in Southern California, but for a long time I had seen posts of the colony of these guys that live down in Redwood City at the Radio Road Ponds. Unfortunately, it took me a few years to finally take a trip there.

This is a fantastic location for all kinds of water birds (more about the species I saw in future posts), and you could get close enough to do some nice photography too. While the fading light was nice while I was watching other birds, it just happened to stay foggy while I was near the skimmers -- but regardless, it was still a lot of fun to have them in front of the lens. They were mostly interested in napping and a little bit of preening, so a good reason to go back for more in the future.

You've gotta love those bright bills with that oversized underbite.

Stealing tomatoes

Over the weekend, it was finally time to cut down the remnants of our garden, including our delicious and highly productive cherry tomato plants. Amidst the clipping, I discovered one of these very large and very green caterpillars on the soil. I had wondered if it was an invasive, since it almost looks tropical with its bright colors, vivid patterns, and large size (fat as my fingers and a few inches long) -- but a quick google search showed that its a native to North America, and one of our largest caterpillars, the tobacco (or tomato) hornworm.

To my delight, as I moved to the next plant, I found a handful of these guys munching on our little green tomatoes.


In addition to their cute little red tail spikes, I really like the false eyes on their face -- it really looks like a bright eye, but upon closer inspection, it very much appeared to just be an evolutionarily creative spot.

For a sense of scale, here's a shot of me holding one on a branch that I rescued from the compost bin:


It was fun to find these guys late in the season, but I suppose I'd be a tad disappointed if they had showed up earlier and eaten all of our tomatoes!

A friendly charge

This experience got the ticker revvin' a bit. After spending some time on the beach with the semipalmated plovers, I decided to head back to the car. As I walked down the east side of the dune, I found a lovely female deer who curiously watched me but decided not to run right away. By this time, I had already put away my tripod, so I decided to pull it back out and see if she'd stay around for a bit. Well, to my luck she did and as I made my way down to the junction of the beach access trail and the side trail that goes down the estero, I noticed this gorgeous buck who was likely checking me out for a while.



I felt a bit nervous to be lined up in his 6-point sights, but he seemed content just to sniff the air in my direction. Conveniently, I was standing right in front of a bench, so I figured I would sit down, set up the tripod, and see what happens -- it seemed to make more sense than continuing back towards the car, which was in the same direction that the doe had gone.



After he posed for a few shots, the doe had wandered further off and he had a decision to make. What he chose, was to run straight at me!



Now, he didn't do this in a threatening manner, but all I could picture was some of those "when animals attack" videos I saw when I was younger....



And I started to wonder just a little, if I made the right decision of not heading back to the beach



Thankfully, after getting my adrenaline flowing and before I had to dive under the bench, he veered off the path and into the bushes -- but first stopping to give me this perfect pose.

My first attempt at photo blogging

It seems like everyone is getting into the blogosphere now, and I suppose its finally time for me to give it a try. I've been posting my nature and wildlife images to Flickr for a few years now, and have built up an archive of around 700 images as of this posting. While I enjoy the community that Flickr offers, I also often have more to say of the story that goes into the pictures I take, and I feel like a blog is a better place for that to be.



Since shorebirds are my favorite subject, it seems appropriate to use them for the inaugural image. Here's a pair of semipalmated plovers along Limantour Beach in Point Reyes National Seashore. What I love most about this image is the expression of the bird in the background. From this trip, I came back with a variety of plover portraits, but the images that stood out the most for me had something cute or different in the background. I suppose some could consider it distracting, but for me, it shows the expression of the birds and gives it a bit more life. While this pose was just the finish of a stretch during some preening, I see a look of pure glee -- sort of fitting for these cute little birds.

Here's the more "normal" version of this image. I like this one too, but it doesn't pull me in quite the same way.