Tag Archives: great blue heron (Ardea herodias)

Birds I never knew – Part 1

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The wrong lens.  The wrong filters.  The wrong settings.  Only a fraction of a second in which to aim, focus and shoot.

Ah, the curse of nature photography.

Still, it could be worse: I could have no camera with which to work.

A male red-bellied woodpecker (Melanerpes carolinus) clinging to the trunk of a tree as he searches for food (20081123_14821)

A male red-bellied woodpecker (Melanerpes carolinus).  I stood in my garage one morning and heard the telltale knock-knock-knock announcing one of his kind.  Too far away for me to see clearly, especially on an overcast day, only his bright red hood allowed me to find him.  His camouflage otherwise rendered him invisible to me.

Ignoring the squirrels who ran up and down the tree with abandon, he pecked here and there as he danced about the bark with precision and expertise.  I can’t imagine he had much luck looking for breakfast given how little time he spent in any one spot.  Or perhaps it was the annoying play of the tree rodents that kept him from feeling comfortable enough to enjoy a meal.  He certainly wouldn’t have had any peace while doing so.

A male northern cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) perched in the treetops (20080921_12712)

A male northern cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis).  I heard him before I saw him.  As I made my way up a hill toward a dense collection of trees, his voice echoed around me even as he remained hidden in the treetops.  I looked and looked, letting my eyes follow my ears, yet all I could make out was a shadow dancing amongst shadows.  If I approached, his position vanished behind thick foliage; and it was the same if I backed up.  All I could do was stand my ground and wait.

Then, as if on queue, he flitted to a position higher in the tree that afforded me a sunlit view.  I snapped photo after photo, not caring to review each one before taking the next, for I knew with cardinals that a moment offered is a gift.  So I took advantage of it, and only later while reviewing the pictures did I realize he had been eating the whole time I had watched.  A bit of seed detritus around his beak made that clear.

A juvenile Bewick's wren (Thryomanes bewickii) perched on a branch (20080817_10930)

A juvenile Bewick’s wren (Thryomanes bewickii).  Standing atop a picnic table where I hoped to gain a better vantage of the lake, a recognizable yet foreign song trilled upon the air from behind me.  Quite a way behind me, I thought, and I turned to look.  Down the hill and across the creek from where I stood, in a place held against the rising sun like a statue meant to pay homage to a god of ancient times, a simple tree branch reached into the ether betwixt me and it, and upon that branch stood a form I could not recognize from such a great distance.

Even then its song grew to encompass the voice of a recognizable being.  It must surely be a Bewick’s wren.  I squinted against the sunlight even as I tried to snap a photograph or two.  It was impossible to know what I might be focusing on since the bird remained so far away and I looked into the hobbling light of morning.  Despite the chasm that separated us, imagine my surprise when I found this blessed little creature hiding in the middle of a vast wasteland of digital mayhem.

A female ruby-throated hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) flying toward a feeder (20080809_10763)

A female ruby-throated hummingbird (Archilochus colubris).  My parents and I stood near the side porch at the family farm as the entire place buzzed with activity, from lizards scampering about the ground and walls to insects flitting and crawling to a plethora of birds painting the sky with one feather-brushed stroke after another.  We hardly knew where to look for the next amazing sight.

Then as if beckoned by a desire to see beauty incarnate, one of the many hummingbirds in the area soared in with utmost abandon as she made her way toward one of several feeders Mom keeps on the property.  Focused intently on a shiny bobble of life elsewhere, I missed the tiny creature as she flew around the corner of the house, hovered momentarily to make certain we posed no threat, then turned her attention to the fast-food nature of sugar water offered up alongside the many species of flower that lure in the other piece of the hummingbird diet: insects.  As soon as I turned and saw her, I lifted the camera and snapped a photo—Settings be damned!

A great blue heron (Ardea herodias) soaring by two double-crested cormorants (Phalacrocorax auritus) perched on a log (20080727_10131)

A great blue heron (Ardea herodias) soaring by two double-crested cormorants (Phalacrocorax auritus).  The cormorants I saw; the heron took me by surprise.  On my favorite pier at my favorite place at White Rock Lake—Sunset Bay—I slowly took in the view of wildlife filling the moment, and I then focused on two cormorants sunning themselves atop a log.  Even they remained well beyond the scope of my camera and lens, at least what I held in my hands at that moment, yet something about the ducks swimming just beyond them and the cerulean blue of the water reflecting an empty sky all about them made me want that second, that fraction of a breath.

Even as I squeezed the button on the camera, even as I held my body taught with rigidity, the most fantastic creature flew into view, its wings nearly touching the cormorants as it flew over their position.  I tried to follow it, tried to imagine the spectacular results of this unforeseen picture-grabbing instant.  Would that I had been better prepared for such an opportunity.

Two male ruddy ducks (Oxyura jamaicensis) (20080223_02220)

Two male ruddy ducks (Oxyura jamaicensis).  They might as well have been on the other side of the planet from me.  As I walked and roamed and ambled, my mind filled with nothing more important than what gift nature might offer around the next corner, I found myself within the confines of a small inlet on the eastern shores of White Rock Lake, a brief excursion from the beaten path that defined itself by the reeds that sheltered it from the whole of the park.

Behind those reeds and quite some distance from the shore slept a veritable flotilla of ducks, most with tails held firmly toward the sky in defiance of gravity and sleep.  Yet I could not, for the life of me, see them clearly.  The sun floated directly in my line of sight, the water reflecting its onslaught with eager pain, and I, defiant to the end, wanted to see what could not be seen.  Having no idea upon what I focused, I pressed the button time and again with dismay and pleasure mixing into a single, finite instant.  What would these pictures show?  What horrible imagery would I delete in due time?

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Unkempt beauty

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Wind.  Gusts that tossed me about, sent me tumbling, had me bracing against nearby objects just to take photos.  Blowing from the south, the north shore of White Rock Lake offered the least hospitable place to wander.

So I turned south and headed back along the eastern shore toward the Bathhouse Cultural Center and water theater.

As I passed one of the docks where sailboats moored safely in the white-capped water, I spied a great egret (Ardea alba) standing amongst the reeds.  Its stance told me it was hunting.

Approaching slowly to find a good view of it, I made a point of keeping a large tree between me and the bird’s position.  I felt that made me less of a threat, less of a distraction, and the massive wooden trunk undoubtedly could provide anchorage for me against the relentless winds.  I would need it if I wanted to stand still long enough to focus and shoot.

Its position on the shore opposite the egret’s location also seemed a natural blind, one that could get me close enough for some respectable pictures.

My site reached, I prepped the camera settings for the shot.  The bird never moved save the occasional turn of the head as it watched for a fish to wander into range.

I set the camera for nearby objects, color balanced for the bright white against a drab brown backdrop of dried reeds, modified the light intake for the nearby trees whose shadows bathed the entire area and protected it from cool morning sunshine, then stepped slowly to the side where I could peer around the tree while steadying myself against it.

A massive blue form grew to colossal size right in front of me.  Had I taken a single step forward, I could have reached out and touched the behemoth as it transformed from something stoic and unseen to something gargantuan and alive.

Unbeknownst to me, a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) had been standing behind that very same tree opposite my approach.  I had not seen it because it never moved from its shielded spot behind the same obstacle I had used to conceal my advance.

We undoubtedly frightened each other with equal severity.

I stumbled backward as one wing came within a breath of my face, and I nearly fell to the ground as gusts of invisible force punched me in the chest as I scrambled for sure footing.

After no more than a second or two when I regained some composure, I turned and caught only a few images of the retreating giant as it flew in a low arc over the water’s surface, passing briefly in front of the pier and sailboats on its way around the small peninsula—and eventually behind the reeds and trees, its escape taking it further away toward the opposite shore.

A great blue heron (Ardea herodias) flying low over the waters of White Rock Lake

That one photo remains as proof of the encounter, the only one presentable due to being unready for the experience.

But what an encounter.

If you’ve never seen a great blue heron in person, you can’t possibly realize how large they are.  Their wingspan can reach six feet (71 in or 180 cm) and their length from head to tail ranges from three feet (36 in or 91 cm) to almost five feet (54 in or 137 cm).

Given my close encounter, I suspect the one I surprised erred on the large end of the scale.  It easily could have been as tall as I am had it stood erect on stiff legs with its neck fully extended.

I felt inebriated by the moment, by the nearness of such a massive yet graceful creature, one who easily took flight with almost slow flaps of its wings.  As it soared out over the lake, I became lost in the vision of it.

About a week later, I again found myself in the presence of this species, only then it was from a great distance with a good deal of winter limbs betwixt our positions.

I walked along the north bank of Dixon Branch.  The creek is surrounded by dense woodlands and provides habitat and home for many creatures.

The afternoon sun already beat down upon me, leaving me tired of the jacket I wore and wishing I had left it at home.  Yet I dared not turn back for too much life teemed about me, all of it begging to be seen, to be appreciated.

Without any sound at all, a huge shadow danced over me and toward the opposite bank.

It was a great blue heron.  Effortlessly as though made of air, it glided through the treetops and perched upon a large limb deep within the tree line.

I scrambled through thicket and brush trying to find a location with as few branches between me and the bird, someplace where I could get a semi-clear view of it.

A great blue heron (Ardea herodias) perched high in dense woodlands surrounding White Rock Lake

The unkempt nature of its feathers became clear despite the obstructions.  They danced in the breeze even as this avian beauty stood in complete calm, its head slowly turning this way and that, taking in the view from its high rest.

Knowing I could not get a clear view, I snapped several pictures before putting the camera down so I could just stand in silence and observe.

It took several moments for me to realize it too was watching.  Watching me.

A great blue heron (Ardea herodias) perched high in dense woodlands surrounding White Rock Lake

Being the only possible threat in the immediate area, and certainly the only creature to take notice of it, the heron casually glanced about in a graceful survey of the surroundings, pausing with each sweep of its head to look at me, to take in my presence much as I was doing with it.

Remember when it was warm?

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I began pondering warm weather as I searched through my collection of photos for a nature post.  You see, it’s been cold here in North Texas for the last few days, and warm before that, and cold before that, and so on ad nauseam since autumn last year.  No surprises lie beneath the surface of our on-again off-again winter.  In fact, that’s quite normal ’round these parts.

Nevertheless, I stood on the patio a few moments ago with brisk cool winds embracing me while warm sunshine rained down from above, and in that moment I wondered to myself how much longer winter’s grasp could restrain Texas’ oppressive heat.  It would soon return, I feared.

Yet that instance of consideration aided me in finding just the right photos to post.

These pictures are from last summer.  I can tell you the heat and humidity were both quite overwhelming at the time I captured these shots in June 2006.  I wore shorts and a tank top as I sauntered around the lake, yet the dearth of clothing failed to provide any relief from scorching temperatures and stifling moisture filling the air.  It was hot.  Damn hot, in fact.  Part of that stemmed from a muggy atmosphere dripping with water vapor.  You could feel it wrap around your body like warm wet cotton the moment you stepped out the door.

Despite the meteorological obstacles, however, I enjoyed a rather placid early afternoon with the various forms of life that inhabit the world wherein I live.

One such creature, a great egret (Ardea alba), strolled along the shore of White Rock’s Sunset Bay.  The snowy white bird gave no thought to the laundry list of waterfowl sharing its domain.

A great egret (Ardea alba) strolling along the shore while a mallard drake (Anas platyrhynchos) stands camouflaged on land

Did you notice the mallard drake (Anas platyrhynchos) perfectly camouflaged in the grass?  I didn’t notice him until I processed the photo for posting.  His plumage blends in well with the shore, don’t you think?

My gaze continued to follow the egret as it made its way no more than three feet (a meter) from the shore, tall lanky legs carefully lifted and set down in shallows to carry it onward.  I suspected it was heading toward the confluence of several major tributaries that feed the lake, what normally presents as a good feeding ground for such predators.

While it walked, many other aquatic birds made their way toward solid ground… and shade.  Yet the egret never paused when navigating around white and brown Chinese geese (a.k.a. swan geese, Anser cygnoides) and mallard ducks jockeying for first rights to the best cool spots.

A great egret (Ardea alba) strolling along the shore while mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos) and Chinese geese (Anser cygnoides) make their way toward land

When finally the time came for the egret to enter the cove, it was not alone.  A great blue heron (Ardea herodias) stealthily haunted the area.  In fact, I watched the heron for some time and found it amazing that the winged beast hardly moved at all.  Its head looked this way and that, its eyes, I’m sure, fixed on one thing or another in the meantime, yet it stood motionless, a statue carved from feathers and firmly positioned in a stoic stance.  Much unlike the egret’s constant motion, the heron seemed impermeable to all stimuli save whatever ran through its avian brain.

A great egret (Ardea alba) walking in the shallows as a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) stands motionless

Each of these temporal tidbits forever captured in digital amber remind me of what is to come as we move rapidly away from winter and toward spring, then summer, and finally autumn again… only to revisit winter in less than a year.  Between now and the first cold snap wherein we Texans find ourselves considering what arctic invader has visited our lands, we will see a menagerie of weather that has boggled the minds of scientists and non-scientists alike for more centuries than can be counted.  Our geographic position offers us some of the most robust meteorological swings and extremes as can be found on our little planet.  And I’d want it no other way.

[Update] I have since identified the white duck in the center of the second image as a pekin duck (a.k.a. domestic duck, white pekin duck, or Long Island duck; Anas domesticus).

Afternoon fishing . . . and a drive-by

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Dressed in little and wishing I could take that off, the summer sun baked the shore and me with it.  Nevertheless, I held my ground in defiant agony.  I had arrived to watch the wildlife, and watching the wildlife was precisely what I intended to do.

As I melted on the pier with no available cover, I noticed a great egret (Ardea alba) roaming about in the shallows in search of lunch.  The distance between us prevented me from capturing a better video than the one included here, but I still believe you can get the feel of the moment.

The white egret successfully captures a fish and swallows it down, and then it takes a quick drink of water to ensure the fishy has something to swim in while being digested.  Or at least that’s what I thought.

What I did not take note of until after that drink was that a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) was standing mere feet away from the egret, watching silently, perhaps even jealously for the meal one enjoyed and the other did not.  Only after the egret began moving away did the heron start milling around as if it had only just remembered why it was standing there in the water.

But it didn’t stop there.  Even as I pondered whether to stop the video and leave the edge of the pier where sunlight reflected into my face from the surface of the lake, I heard the sound of quacking nearby that seemed to be growing closer and closer.  At the end of the video, you’ll see the duck drive-by performed by the unidentifiable threesome I spoke of previously.  There are two white females and the one dark male, none of whom seem willing to provide their taxonomic credentials.  Perhaps another time…

[Update] I have since identified the white duck as a pekin duck (a.k.a. domestic duck, white pekin duck, or Long Island duck; Anas domesticus).

Out for a casual stroll

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During a recent walk at the lake, I spotted a great egret (Ardea alba) strolling through the shallows searching for a meal.  As I watched the wading bird, various ducks crossed its path at various times, and eventually I spied a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) in the distance who likewise was searching for food.  This video starts with the egret, includes some ducks in the middle, and ends with the egret in the foreground and the heron in the background.  Oh, and the damned plane flying overhead that remains heard but not seen.  Argh.

Also notice the great blue heron in the background catches and eats something immediately following his appearance.  It was unexpected by me as I didn’t even know he was there, so you can’t see much detail other than the end of the hunt, the quick catch, the head thrown back to accommodate swallowing, and the return to a lazy afternoon fishing.

This video is intended to lower your blood pressure.  It works as well for me when I watch it as it did when I was filming it.  Very casual.  No hurry at all.  Just relaxing…

[I apologize for the video quality based on my distance from the birds; I was out on the pier next to where I live; the only other option was to be on the shore, which is further away; I could have stripped down and gone into the water, I suppose, but a bleached white ape jumping into the lake would not have been conducive to keeping the birds calm — or in position]