Category Archives: Nature Photos

Crossing the river of fire

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I stood atop the spillway dam and faced east, watching sunrise unfold like a warm blanket on a cold night.

The sun rising from behind riparian woods surrounding White Rock Lake (20081004_12985_fa)

Below me at the foot of the dam, oblivious—or at least uncaring—of my presence, a snowy egret (Egretta thula) raced back and forth searching for breakfast.

A snowy egret (Egretta thula) hunting along the base of the spillway dam (20081004_13003)

Even as I watched the bird, a wee bit of movement beside me drew my attention to a long-jawed orb weaver (Tetragnatha sp.) making its way along the concrete wall.

A long-jawed orb weaver (Tetragnatha sp.) walking along the spillway dam (20081004_13011)

I became enamored with the gangly beast and its awkward, almost clumsy approach.  I scooted backward to keep it in view, which offered me a very close peripheral view of more movement on the wall.

Fire ants (a.k.a. red imported fire ant; Solenopsis invicta) relocating a nest on the spillway dam (20081004_13014)

Fire ants (a.k.a. red imported fire ant; Solenopsis invicta).  A lot of them.  The whole column hugging the concrete seam in the wall.  The river of tiny six-legged creatures flowed mostly from the lake side of the wall to the fishery side where I stood.

Fire ants (a.k.a. red imported fire ant; Solenopsis invicta) relocating a nest on the spillway dam (20081004_13015)

I moved away from the wall and from the ants.  I dared not tempt a sting from these tiny giants.  Yet from a few steps away I once again saw the spider, then the ants, then the coming problem the arachnid would face: how to cross the river of fire that stood unwavering in its path.

A long-jawed orb weaver (Tetragnatha sp.) attempting to cross a river of fire ants (a.k.a. red imported fire ant; Solenopsis invicta) busy relocating their nest (20081004_13018)

Seeing the ants carrying pupae and larvae made clear they were relocating their colony.  The tendency of fire ants to attack first and ask questions never would no doubt be amplified with young being carried in the open to a new home.

Fire ants (a.k.a. red imported fire ant; Solenopsis invicta) relocating a nest on the spillway dam (20081004_13019)

It took the spider nearly five minutes to successfully cross over the streaming ants.  A few times a single ant would grab one of the spider’s legs when it came too close, and a few times the spider slipped and almost fell after trying to reach too far in a single step.

But who could blame it for wanting to avoid contact with the ants?  And trust me when I say that the spider’s gangly shape came in handy when crossing the river of fire.  Body held high above the danger, legs stretched as far as they could reach, thin legs and tiny feet needing little space to take hold.

I will not be mocked

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Back in January 2010, Amber captured some absolutely stunning photos of a female northern harrier (Circus cyaneus) in flight.  Having visited Oak Point Park & Nature Preserve in Plano around sunset one evening and having discovered herself in the right place at the right time to watch this fantastic bird as it hunted the open prairie, Amber walked away with reason for a major happy dance.

Northern harriers can be found throughout the DFW Metroplex during winter, though their rather finicky approach to hunting grounds makes it necessary to find the wide open fields they prefer.  I found Amber’s luck quite alluring and immediately made plans to visit Oak Point so I could try for my own pictures of this gorgeous and unique raptor.

Mixing the facial disc of owls with the body and techniques of hawks, harriers are unique amongst North America’s raptors.  They are not kites, falcons, hawks or eagles, and they are not owls either.  They are as unique in the North American raptor world as are ospreys.  I just had to get some photos.

I sat at the top of the hill and watched as a loggerhead shrike (Lanius ludovicianus) impaled its breakfast.  The temperature remained below freezing, yet a clear blue sky meant plenty of sunshine to keep me warm as I awaited my opportunity to see the harrier.  Then it happened.

Way the hell at the bottom of the hill, some 80 yards/meters from my location, I saw the bird sweep through just above the grass.  Most of my view was obstructed as the bird remained close enough to the ground to be behind the grass and below the hill for the majority of its pass.  Nevertheless, I watched as the raptor swept through, made a turn, and departed in the direction from which it came.

A male northern harrier (Circus cyaneus) flying above the grass in the distance (2010_01_12_048321)

See the bird in the center of the image?  Just above the grass?  That minuscule white spot that could well be a smudge of dirt on the lens?

Yet something stood out, something that caught my attention and screamed for a closer look.  It was immediately clear to me that this was not the same bird Amber had seen.  So I quickly reviewed the few poor photos I’d taken and realized, much to my surprise, that I had photographed a male northern harrier, not a female.  Here’s a crop:

A male northern harrier (Circus cyaneus) flying above the grass (2010_01_12_048321.JPG_c)

Given Amber’s experience, that meant a pair of the birds was hunting the park.  What a grand opportunity indeed!

Now if only I could get down the hill and be in place before one of the birds came back through.  So I rushed, looking every bit as graceless as I dared in public, and I reached the bottom of the vast open field and found a spot where I could sit comfortably.  And I waited.

Every manner of bird filled the air around me, from bluebirds to blackbirds to sparrows to hawks and falcons, and even an owl was forced momentarily into the open by a marauding band of jays.  I enjoyed the show for almost two hours before my chance came.

Way the hell at the top of the hill—pretty much where I’d been sitting before—a harrier swept through.  The bird leisurely soared above the dry grass, making comfortable turns this way and that.  And again about 80 yards/meters away from me.

A female northern harrier (Circus cyaneus) flying in the distance (2010_01_12_048484)

See it just left of center?  Near the top of the treeline?  That tiny brown spot that could be dust on the lens?

But wait a minute!  Something seemed different about this bird.  So I quickly reviewed the pictures in the camera.  Ack!  It was the female.  Here’s a crop:

A female northern harrier (Circus cyaneus) flying in the distance (2010_01_12_048484_c)

Damn it!  I was being mocked by these two birds.  It was a husband-and-wife team of tormentors.

I gave chase.  After making it to the top of the hill, I followed in the direction the female had traveled.  That’s when she burst from behind a motte—at the bottom of the hill!—and vanished back across the street where the two seemed to be when they weren’t in the park.

Over the next four hours, this process repeated.  Basically, one of the birds would sweep through every hour or two, but they always came through on the opposite side of the prairie from where I was standing.

Eventually I tired of being mocked and went on my way, choosing to spend a few hours meandering along the various trails offered by Oak Point.  I left the harriers to frustrate someone else.

And unlike Amber, I did not do a northern harrier happy dance that day.  Because I will not be mocked!

Florida comes calling

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After the first time one of my photos was licensed and published, I walked away from the experience with some coin in my pocket, my name and one of my pictures in a book, and a newfound appreciation for crowd-sourced materials.  I could also lay claim to being a published nature photographer.

Yet I didn’t hold my head high and look down on others, and I didn’t feel a new career opportunity rising up from my hobby.  One reason for that should be obvious: My usual jesting self-deprecation aside, I really don’t think that highly of my photography.  We are our own worst critics, true, and no one is harder on me than I am.  Every photo I take needs improvement; every image I post could be much better; every time I post-process a picture, I kick myself for not capturing as good as I wanted and I promise myself I will focus on improving.  In essence, I considered the Adventure Publications scenario a fluke.

I had a lot to learn.  In July 2010 I received a missive that said, in part,

I am contacting you on behalf of the Lyonia Environmental Center in Deltona, FL. (www.lyoniapreserve.com )

We would like to use one of your photographs of the Purple Passion Flower on signs that will be placed in our native plant garden and around our nature center.

Purple passion flower (a.k.a. Maypop; Passiflora incarnata) grows wild at the family farm, its fruit enjoyed by all sorts of wildlife, including deer who will come right up to the back door of the house to nibble the sweetness off the vine.  I’ve photographed it often, not just because passion flowers are structurally fascinating but because they’re purple!  My favorite color.  When asked which photo they were referring to, they pointed to this one (originally seen in this post from August 2009):

A close-up of a purple passion flower (a.k.a. Maypop; Passiflora incarnata) (20080809_10605)

But when identifying the picture in question, they added something else: they also wanted to use this photo (originally seen in this post from May 2010):

A close-up of firewheel (a.k.a Indian blanket or blanket flower; Gaillardia pulchella) (2009_05_31_021051)

That’s firewheel (a.k.a Indian blanket or blanket flower; Gaillardia pulchella).  It grows all around White Rock Lake amongst the other native plants that are carefully nurtured and protected, for White Rock Lake harbors some of the rarest remnants of the Blackland Prairie ecosystem.  So much of that ecosystem was laid waste by development of the DFW Metroplex, so the City of Dallas and concerned citizens spend a great deal of time keeping what little remains of it in pristine condition, efforts that have won the city and its citizens accolades, awards and honorable mentions.

As for the picture, it’s a crop from this larger image:

Firewheel (a.k.a Indian blanket or blanket flower; Gaillardia pulchella) (2009_05_31_021051)

So I did my homework.  I asked what they would use the images for (interpretive signs to be spread around the preserve), I visited their web site, and I investigated the Lyonia Environmental Center to see what they were all about.  What I found was my own passion:

Lyonia Preserve is a 360-acre joint project of Volusia County’s Land Acquisition and Management Division and the Volusia County School Board to restore and maintain scrub habitat. Since 1994, restoration efforts have removed overgrown sand pines and opened up the understory, creating the characteristic bare sand areas with low-growing vegetation preferred by scrub species.

They focus on conservation, restoration and education.  To add to the goodness of the request, I found that the preserve is home to the Deltona Regional Library, one of Volusia County’s most comprehensive and busiest libraries.  Two of my passions together: nature and reading.  What a fantastic place it must be, I thought, and what a grand opportunity for library visitors to enjoy native flora and fauna.  So I licensed the photographs.

Some time later I received pictures of the interpretive signs.  I always like to see how my work is used.  Here are the signs.  First, the passion flower:

Second, the firewheel:

Very cool!  Not just the inclusion of my pictures and not just having my name on the signs, but the signs are cool.  Well done indeed.

So if you’re ever in Florida and have a chance, visit the Lyonia Preserve.  And be sure to look for my name and photographs on the interpretive signs.

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I’m not covering these photograph experiences in chronological order.  No particular reason for that other than it’s easier for me to post about them based on how quickly I can find the correspondences and the photos that go with them.

Pincers

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Have you ever wondered why earwigs have those menacing pincers at the end of their abdomens?

A ring-legged earwig (Euborellia annulipes) walking along the patio fence (204_0410)

I remember as a young kid thinking they were used to grip the inside of human ears where the earwigs could nibble on vital body parts and build a nest for a soon-to-be-laid writhing mass of eggs.  Hey, all I knew was that they were called earwigs and that the name had to mean something.

A ring-legged earwig (Euborellia annulipes) walking along the patio fence (204_0412)

Those frightening pincers are actually cerci, appendages found on most arthropods, from arachnids to insects.  They usually serve as sensory organs, but sometimes they evolve as weapons or copulation aids.  When it comes to earwigs, the cerci are in fact weapons, used for defense and/or to capture prey.

A ring-legged earwig (Euborellia annulipes) walking along the patio fence (204_0416)

This male ring-legged earwig (Euborellia annulipes) was scampering across my patio fence many moons ago.  He reminded me of that silly childhood fear I had of having one of these critters find its way into my ear.  Those formidable pincers would have made him hard to pry loose.

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Notes:

  1. The easiest way to determine the gender of an earwig is to look at the cerci, or pincers.  Females have flat cerci while males have curved cerci.
  2. Of all the native earwig species in Texas, this is probably one of the easiest to identify given the dark bands on their light-colored legs and the few pale segments near the end of each otherwise dark antenna.
  3. My apologies for the poor photo quality.  These were taken in 2007 with my little weak-powered, pocket-size point-and-shoot camera.