Dunlin in the dunes, Sandy Point State Reservation

A dunlin peers out from a depression in the sand behind the dunes at Sandy Point State Reservation on Plum Island, Massachusetts.

View more of my dunlin photographs.

Sanderling at sundown, Plymouth Beach

My most recent trip to Plymouth Beach was reminiscent of a California beach trip for me. I arrived a few hours before the sun was scheduled to set under clear blue skies. Then as I walked further along the beach, the beautiful high-level clouds started to move in. By the time I had reached what should have the "golden hour" I was sitting under delightful gray skies! A minor challenge was trying to find the right white balance under these conditions, but the dramatic skies provided some unique side lighting as this sanderling cruised along the round stones of the waterline.

See more in my Sanderlings Gallery.

Has it really been a year? Dunlin at Plymouth Beach

Well today marks an entire year since I last posted a new image here on my blog. That's far too long! While I haven't had as much time over the past twelve months to put into photography, I'm starting to get back into a groove. A trip to Hawaii last summer and some recent trips to local beaches have provided a bunch of images to share, and I still have plenty of unpublished images sitting in my archives just waiting for their turn.

This image of resting dunlin is from Plymouth Beach, which is my new favorite spot to look for shorebirds. It was exciting to see them starting to molt into their summer colors when I was out earlier this weekend.

View more photographs of dunlin.

Semiplamated plover, Sandy Point State Reservation

This shot was taken as the fading rays of the setting sun broke through an overcast sky in Sandy Point State Reservation last October. It won't be too long from now that the shorebird numbers will start increasing with the spring migration, and I hope to get out there to photograph them. Plum Island (which contains both the Parker River National Wildlife Refuge and the Sandy Point State Reservation) gets red knots passing through each year -- and it's my goal to photograph one in their gorgeous spring colors.

View more of my photographs of plovers.

Tip of the feather, Parker River National Wildlife Refuge

As the flock of over 100 sandpipers ran across the sand, this sanderling paused for a moment to check its feathers -- all the way out to the tips.

View more photos of sanderlings.

Barred owl, Parker River National Wildlife Refuge

To celebrate my 30th birthday this weekend, my wife and I took a trip up to the Parker River National Wildlife Refuge on Plum Island so that I could hopefully find some shorebirds to photograph. I did manage to get myself pretty well-soaked in the cold, wet sand, but the real highlight was photographing this barred owl on the drive out of the park. It was a bit like being in Yellowstone, as we could see a cluster of cars pulled off the road and a slew of tripods all set up with their lenses pointed in one direction. I considered just driving by slowly to see what was there instead of joining the crowd, but I'm glad that my wife convinced me to stop and pull out my gear.

The sun had nearly fully set, so I had to up the ISO to 3200 to try to get a sharp shot, but it was a real delight to spend a few minutes photographing this gorgeous bird. A wonderful birthday surprise for sure!

View more owl photos in my Birds of Prey Gallery.

Pair of semipalmated plovers, Sandy Point State Reservation

This past weekend, my wife and I took a trip out to Sandy Point State Reservation on the southern tip of Plum Island. The impacts of Hurricane Sandy and the recent Nor'easter were clear. The small dune that I found this flock of plovers taking refuge behind in early October is no longer there, as the beach is now one large flat expanse. It's fascinating to see the power of nature, and this was a prime example of the ephemeral existence of the beach environment.

View more of my photos of plovers.

Semipalmated plover at sunset, Sandy Point State Reservation

I had a lovely encounter with a flock of semipalmated plovers at Sandy Point State Reservation on Plum Island a few weekends ago. The late afternoon hours were mostly overcast, but as the sun crept towards the horizon, its last rays lit up the clouds and cast a beautiful golden glow over the birds.

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Blackbird on cattails, Parker River National Wildlife Refuge

In my post from last evening, I wrote about the experience of getting out with my camera after over three months without using it. I thought I'd follow it up today with a frame from my last outing before my summer hiatus. A few days after I accepted my position at Harvard in May, I took a celebratory trip out to Parker River National Wildlife Refuge. Unfortunately, I didn't see much out there except for this gregarious red-winged blackbird bouncing between cattails along the road.

View more photos of blackbirds in my Song Birds Gallery

Focused

It had been a while since I had touched my camera when I went out on this mid-August trip. Actually, much longer than "a while" -- especially compared to the frequency I became accustomed to in California. It had been over three months since I tried to make a meaningful image. Worse yet, it had been just as long since I was able to be out enjoying and connecting with nature. Throughout my growth as a person and a photographer during the past half-decade, I had really come to rely on these moments of connection with nature to help to re-center myself. So in the end, enough was enough, and I had to prioritize some time to get outside. One weekend evening was all I could take, but it would have to be enough. My wife and I hopped in the car and drove out for the sunset on Plum Island on the North Shore.

I was almost giddy with excitement to be going through my pre-trip rituals of charging batteries, formatting memory cards, and cleaning lens surfaces. Donning my outdoor clothes and hiking shoes gave my heart an extra bounce to its step. All of these things were leading to seeing the ocean, feeling the breeze, and smelling the warm salty air. I could feel it in my soul, and couldn't wait to hit the sand.

When we arrived at the Parker River National Wildlife Refuge entrance, I was hit with the sad realization that it was summer in the Northeast and not along the California coast. Lot #1 was recently reopened to the public after the plovers had moved on, and it was packed. Signs along the road warned that there was no parking available at Sandy Point, my ultimate destination. I stuck to my plans though, and figured that 90 minutes before sunset, and very near to dinner time, most cars would be heading home. When we reached the end of the island, we were thankful that someone was pulling out of a spot in the overcrowded lot just when we got there. Soon enough I was pulling out my gear from the back seat.

What a refreshing moment it was to step out of the car and feel the coastal air. As we made our way along the trail, I could see that the beach was packed. There were excited children and loud families everywhere. Quickly, I realized that I may not be able to find that connection with nature that I so desperately sought. Amidst the chaos of a summer's evening along the shore, I spotted a small group of peeps feeding in the sand exposed by the ebbing tide. "Peeps!" I called to my wife, who knew that she'd be on her own to wander the beach for a little while now that my target was sighted. I watched from a distance as a beachwalker strolled right at them, and thankfully the flock parted and they remained in the area.

This was a good sign that these were friendly birds (and most likely naive juveniles), and I made a quicker than usual approach. Soon enough, I was down in the sand seeking an eye-level view. I laid on the shutter and reveled in the rapid fire sound of the birth of new images. Even though it had been a while since I used my camera, the feeling quickly came back, and I lost myself in the world of these small shorebirds feeding in the sand.

After a few minutes, the silence in my mind was disturbed by my own thoughts. How peculiar that I was interrupting myself -- but that's what this particular thought was about. Somewhere in those moments of lying in the sand and framing the birds, the realization came to me that I had actually found the connection I was looking for. It didn't matter that kids were splashing and yelling their shouts of joy around me, because I didn't hear them. It didn't matter that people were looking at this strange guy covered in sand photographing tiny birds that many people don't even notice. What mattered was that I was there, feeling nature -- breathing the air, sensing the pulse of the waves, feeding off the energy of the birds. Every other thought dropped away from my mind, and I was fully in the moment. Focused.

It was, ironically, this trip to a crowded summer beach on the Massachusetts coast that helped to solidify my understanding of the personal connection with nature that I have sought out for so many years. There's just something about being in that moment, completely focused and absorbed by the tiny piece of the world visible through my telephoto lens. While I love to experience nature while hiking, I do find a much deeper connection when I have my camera along. For a long time I've wondered why that was. But now I think it all makes sense to me. When my eye is pressed to the viewfinder, it's not just my vision that's reduced to only what is focused within the frame. For those moments, my mind is singularly focused too. There's no thought of unanswered emails, tasks left unfinished, chores yet to be done, and the rest of my everlasting to-do list. Everything else is gone. My entire being is focused on what I can see in the lens, on feeling the energy of the animal I'm watching, and on working to capture just a tiny piece of the magic of that moment in my images. What a truly meaningful experience it is to have a singular focus, even if it only lasts for the fleeting time of a wildlife encounter. It's no wonder I keep coming back for more. I'm already looking forward to the next time I can bring my eye to the viewfinder and find the quiet solitude that it brings to my mind.

Dinner for a dunlin, Parker River NWR

A dunlin pulls a small clam from the sand and washes it off before swallowing it whole for dinner. An extremely low tide at Parker River National Wildlife Refuge last fall exposed a large area of feeding grounds for the shorebirds, and there seemed to be a never ending supply of these clams to eat. The density of prey species in the sand is amazing when you consider how frequently shorebirds pull them up, and how often the birds scour the area.

View more photos of dunlin.

Great egret hunting in the marsh, Parker River National Wildlife Refuge

There's something so elegant about watching an egret or heron hunt, as they gracefully slide through the marsh in search of prey. Their movements are so even and controlled, that is, until they strike out after whatever morsel has caught their eye. It never ceases to amaze me how efficient these birds are at hunting. It seems like they must catch something 8 or 9 times out of 10 attempts.



I haven't spent enough time yet around the grasslands and pasture lands in the area to know, but I wonder if the egrets in the Northeast also hunt rodents like the California populations do?



View more photos of great egrets in my Herons & Egrets Gallery.

Submitted to the World Bird Wednesday blog meme -- Follow the link to check out this week's posts!

Merlin, Parker River National Wildlife Refuge

After photographing a juvenile snowy owl on Plum Island under overcast conditions, I returned a few days later to try my luck at photographing the bird in the golden light of sunset. I parked my car at Beach #7 and walked down around the tip of Plum Island to Sandy Point State Reservation to try to locate the owl again. While I had a very pleasant walk in the winter air, I came up empty in terms of spotting the owl, and I started walking back towards my car as the light started getting better and better. Resigned to having a trip with nothing photographic to show for it, I ascended the wooden stairs to the observation platform that is at the end of the trail to the parking lot. At the top I decided to scan the beach one last time for anything interesting in the pretty light. As I pivoted on the platform I noticed that this gorgeous merlin was watching me from less than 10 yards away. She seemed rather nonplussed about sharing the observation platform with me, and gave me the opportunity to snap off a few shots in both the vertical and horizontal orientations before she took to the air again. Unfortunately, I had already collapsed my tripod before ascending the stairs, so I had to shoot handheld during the encounter, and 500mm on a windy day did not make for many tack-sharp frames -- but this one came out well.

View more raptors in my Birds of Prey Gallery.

Submitted to the World Bird Wednesday blog meme -- follow the link to check out this week's posts!

Snowy owl for a snowy day, Sandy Point State Reservation

Today is the first significant snowfall of the season for the Boston area, so while I sit watching the flakes drift past my window I thought I'd honor the whitened city landscape by posting a photo of the snowy owl that I saw earlier in the month at Sandy Point State Reservation on Plum Island. There was no snow on the ground that day when I visited the park, but some sea ice had formed in the inlet, which is where I found this beautiful juvenile owl.

View more images of owls in my Birds of Prey Gallery.

Sanderling reflection at sunrise, Parker River National Wildlife Refuge

A sanderling bends down to meet its reflection as it feeds during an early morning low tide in the Parker River National Wildlife Refuge.

View more photos of sanderlings

Snowy owl on the beach, Sandy Point State Reservation

This juvenile snowy owl was kind enough to give me a couple different settings to photograph it in as it moved between the dunes and sea ice that had formed in the inlet at Sandy Point State Reservation. It's really quite fascinating to see an owl in a beach setting, but since they breed and live on the arctic tundra during the summers, this sort of landscape seems to make sense for them. Lots of low plants, and good visibility. I'm still hoping to return to find and photograph snowy owls in golden light and perhaps during a snow flurry, but we'll have to see if they'll cooperate with me for those.

In other news, if you would like to see some great photography, Jim Goldstein has posted the list for his 2011 Blog Project, which includes a "Best Photos of 2011" post from 289 different photographers that follow his blog! If you have some time and would like to be inspired, I highly recommend browsing the list, and perhaps a good place to start is my own Favorite Photographs of 2011 post.

Submitted to World Bird Wednesday -- Follow the link to check out this week's posts.

Strolling dunlin, Parker River National Wildlife Refuge

Throughout the fall there were a lot of migrating shorebirds feeding on the beaches of Plum Island, and I was surprised to see that some were still there when I went looking for a snowy owl last Thursday. It was not a huge flock, but maybe 50-75 sanderlings and dunlin were still chasing the waves as they rolled in and out on that cold afternoon. Unfortunately, the light was blah when I saw them, so I just watched them for a bit with the camera at my side.

Browse more photographs of dunlin

Success -- A snowy owl! Sandy Point State Reservation

As soon as we arrived in Massachusetts last September, I was investigating the nearby parks to find out what wildlife opportunities might exist. I quickly discovered that Plum Island (which contains the Parker River NWR and Sandy Point State Reservation on it) is a terrific place for birds on the Massachusetts coast. Even better news was that it often harbors a wintering population of snowy owls, and it's considered one of the best places in the lower US to find them. I think these birds are stunning, and I immediately added a snowy owl to my mental wish list for this winter. After seeing reports of owls in the area on ebird.org I took a trip there in December, but came back empty handed. On my first outing of 2012 though, I was able to photograph this gorgeous juvenile along the dunes of Sandy Point State Reservation (and in this image, sitting on the ice that formed in the tidal areas). I was there for sunset, but the skies were cloudier than I expected, so I was shooting mostly in fading overcast light -- all the more reason to make a return trip under blue skies as well!

View more images of owls in my Birds of Prey Gallery.

Reflecting on 2011, and a Sanderling for Laura

Time is such a funny thing. Sometimes we feel that it flies by faster than we can keep up with, and sometimes it feels like it has slowed to nearly a stop. But in the end, we mark its passage at concrete intervals, which allow us to take a moment to stop and see just how much time has passed. A year often proves to be the most logical interval for reflection, as our bodies and minds seem to fall into rhythm with the predictable changing of the seasons, and the lengthened evenings spent indoors in the winter are ripe for reflection.

There have been many years in my life that have seemed to go by without much notice, simply the formation of another tree-ring in my life story, passing by and starting new. This year, 2011, was not such a year. There have been few years that I have felt more strongly and that have been more formative than this particular revolution around the sun.

I started the year in Berkeley, California, happily plugging away as a graduate student feverishly trying to wrap up my experiments and write my dissertation. As my wife and I tried to figure out what our next step would be after graduation, I started to realize that my time in California was running short, and I increased my efforts to get out and enjoy and photograph the landscape that had truly become home for me. The spring flashed by in an instant, seemingly gathering more speed as it went, and soon enough I was walking in my graduation, and collecting signatures on my dissertation. By August I had formally completed my PhD, and we began to prepare for a cross-country move to Massachusetts.

On September 1st, we put the last of our belongings in the car and started our migration east. We said goodbye to California, and spent a glorious 10 days exploring Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks. The wildlands of the American West have inspired me since I was a young child watching “Marty Stauffer’s Wild America”, and it was a dream come true to spend so much time exploring that particular stretch of the Rocky Mountains. During our stay, each day seemed to stretch out to twice its appropriate length, leaving us with so many full and lasting memories. We then spent the next 4 days watching the country pass by our car windows, and soon enough, we were getting settled in Massachusetts.

All of these events were so important to the story of my life, and it was incredible to sit around our kitchen table in September and think about the fortunate changes that 2011 brought to our lives -- the grand accomplishments of finishing our PhDs and starting the next phase of our lives in a new city. But 2011 wasn’t over yet, and the steady beat of the metronome propelled us forward along the unseen arrow of time.

When we celebrated the start of 2011, we did it as a much fuller family than we’ll have for the beginning of 2012. In October, we lost my step-father to cancer. He had been receiving treatment for a year and a half, and we knew that our time together had a distinct, but unknown, limit – but we didn’t realize that this stretch of time was accelerating to a rapid finish much sooner than we expected. Fortunately, our recent move to the East Coast allowed us to be there at the end.

As we tried to recover from that loss, we didn’t know that we were again accelerating towards another finite endpoint in time. In November, my wife’s sister, Laura, and her boyfriend, Kristopher, were taken from us in a random, senseless, and horrific act of violence in Seattle. My sister-in-law was only 26, and was almost ready to write her PhD dissertation at the University of Washington. She was a fun, generous, and compassionate soul who cared deeply about improving the world with her research and education. She and Kris had so much love and life yet to give, and they certainly did not have enough time.


In the wake of these tragedies, you find a way to put one foot in front of the other and to keep moving forward, because you know that as much as it feels like it should, time doesn’t stop. It just keeps flowing with a perpetual steady beat. Soon enough the last seconds of 2011 will tick by and we’ll count down to the beginning of a new year. The incredible joys and sorrows of 2011 will always be with me, but they will also be secured behind me with the turn of the calendar – encased behind the mark that separates the new tree-ring from the last.

As my reflections on 2011 naturally turn towards the prospects of 2012, I look forward to a fresh beginning of another year full of expectations and surprises. What will I have to reflect on after the next 365 days? I’m ready to turn the page and find out – to face the challenges, to experience the joys, and to continue to share what inspires me.

I want to thank each of my readers for joining me for the journey that was 2011, and I wish you only the best for the New Year. May your lives be ever fuller by the love of your family and friends, and may you continue to make progress towards getting that perfect shot!

I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!


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The image I selected for this post is dedicated to Laura. She always commented that she loved my photos of sanderlings, and she enjoyed watching their cute way of life as they cruised in and out with the waves. As I thought through the images I could dedicate to her, my mind was drawn to the recent series I took that included reflections. While Laura’s time with us was far too short, she lived an amazingly full life and impacted an incredible number of people. Her zest for life and fierce love of family, friends, and science will be forever reflected in those of us who knew her – and we will each be a better person for carrying her spirit with us as we move forward.

Dunlin in a crowd, Parker River National Wildlife Refuge

A pair of dunlin (Calidris alpina) rest at the front edge of a very large flock of mixed sandpipers. This image is from a morning that I spent with this flock as they tried to stay just above the waterline of the rising tide during my first sunrise trip to Parker River National Wildlife Refuge this fall. The squatty shape of sandpipers, especially when they are tucked in to rest, doesn't always lend itself to an interesting vertical composition. In this case though, I thought that the background of the large flock fading into the bright blue of the early morning ocean was compelling. It's so easy to view the world through only one orientation, especially since the camera is layed-out to be most comfortable that way, so I always try to remember to rotate the lens to vertical as I work over a scene.

View more of my photos of dunlin

Submitted to World Bird Wednesday -- follow the link to check out this week's posts.