Tag Archives: mallard duck (Anas platyrhynchos)

Am I silly for crying?

April 23, 2008 jason 3 Comments

It goes without saying that I possess a rather sensitive emotional self, one seemingly at odds with the logical part of me that demands objective detachment when facing life’s tribulations.

So why then do I weep prolifically when I face such moments?

A female mallard duck (Anas platyrhynchos) with a deformed leg.

I watched her for some time as she hopped along the shore of an island within Sunset Bay’s confluence. She rested, she moved along, she interacted with the other mallards and she stumbled across uneven ground.

Rejected by her kind as they avoided her without sympathy, I wept even as I knew I could do nothing to help her.

Despite her deformity, she seemed able to navigate the world sans too much trouble.

‘Too much’ being the operative term, however, as I witnessed the anguish of her stumbling and her discomfort with being unable to follow her kind with the ease they so readily demonstrated. Likewise, I witnessed how her fellow mallards shunned her, chased her away with able bodies even as she trembled on one limb trying to escape.

A male great-tailed grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus) with a deformed foot.

He seemed able, even mated with a female who never left his side.

Yet I watched him struggle upon a bent and crooked foot, one incapable of grasping a twig for steadiness, one not able to support steady weight upon a dry stone. He hopped unlike his brethren who walk from foot to foot. He tripped at least once as I looked after his progress.

Gripping the edge of a rock with only one foot as he leaned toward the water’s surface for a drink, he tripped and fell, nearly dunking his full form into the water below. In defiance, he grabbed a twig, a bit of nest material, beckoned to his love, then flew off with her by his side. Yet I knew the trouble facing him once he reached the tree that held their hope for a future generation.

A crested Indian runner (Anas platyrhynchos) with six-pack rings wrapped around his neck and head (IMG_20080106_01074)

A crested Indian runner (Anas platyrhynchos) cursed with the heartlessness of humanity.

First seen by me and others near year’s end with this wretched curse tied about his head, many joined me in asking for help from organizations specialized in rescuing such creatures.

Yet none have seen him since the first week of January. None can speak to his wellbeing.

All because he stood wounded by the careless trap of people.

I wonder if I am silly for crying, for lamenting the state of these creatures, for the weeping of my own soul in response to the suffering of life.

Pleasant discovery in unpleasant times

March 14, 2008 jason Leave a comment

My supply of stress and worry seems unending at present. I therefore purchased escape this morning with several hours at the lake, an opportunity to walk, to reflect, to avoid, to recuperate, and to discover.

From some distance across the confluence in Sunset Bay, I noticed several birds that seemed unfamiliar to me. Although they never approached but instead remained across the bay, I happily found them as I processed the photographs upon returning home.

Northern shovelers (Anas clypeata) are ubiquitous throughout the northern hemisphere, from Europe to Asia and all the way to North America. And there’s no mistaking these ducks for any other species.

Three northern shovelers (Anas clypeata), two males and one female, swimming as a mated pair of mallards (Anas platyrhynchos) hang out in the background (20080314_02681)

Small—smaller even than mallards, as you can see from that photo—the males are striking in their winter plumage. Females, on the other hand, look nearly identical to mallard females (and those of several other species).

Yet it’s the bill of the bird that immediately identifies them. Spatulate and long—like a shovel—the source of their name seems all to evident.

Despite not having a chance for a closer encounter with them, I did find a mated pair sleeping on the far side of the confluence amongst the mallards and coots and other waterfowl.

A mated pair of norther shovelers (Anas clypeata) sleeping near a male mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) also taking a nap (20080314_02693)

Regrettably, their position on the furthest downhill bank made it near impossible to get a clear shot. Mind you the litter didn’t help either.

As for the larger group bobbing along in the chopping water, they headed out toward the middle of the lake, undoubtedly in search of lunch.

The first walk (Part I)

February 28, 2008 jason Leave a comment

My new camera arrived in late December 2007. Because my naiveté with its functionality meant the date had not even been set correctly, I can’t truthfully say when I first held this splendid piece of magic in my grimy paws, nor can I tell you the actual date these photos were taken (as the EXIF date is incorrect, although it’s only off by 12-24 hours from what I remember).

Nevertheless, I can tell you this: Perhaps taken Christmas Eve or the day before, perhaps taken Christmas Day even, these images represent my new Canon S5 IS’s initial performance at White Rock Lake, its debut as my photographic companion at the urban oasis I love.

So welcome to the first walk, to be presented in parts since there’s lots to see.

Two American white pelicans (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos)
and a double-crested cormorant (Phalacrocorax auritus)
perched on a submerged branch and preening in morning sunlight.

A broad view of White Rock Lake from Sunset Bay (IMG_0092)

Taken immediately after the previous photo, I zoomed out to give some
perspective on where I stood when I snapped that picture. This is
facing west from Sunset Bay. You can see my shadow in the lower-
right corner of the image, and the pelicans and cormorant can be seen
just right of center.

A pair of juvenile ring-billed gulls (Larus delawarensis) standing on a submerged tree stump (IMG_0111)

A pair of juvenile ring-billed gulls (Larus delawarensis) standing on a
submerged tree stump, sometimes preening, sometimes looking around
as though trying to determine what to do with their morning.

The confluence in Sunset Bay crowded with teeming waterfowl, from
an American white pelican (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) to American coots
(Fulica americana) to brown and white Chinese geese (a.k.a. swan
geese; Anser cygnoides).

A covert of American coots (Fulica americana) milling about in the shallows near the shore of Sunset Bay (IMG_0139)

A covert of American coots (Fulica americana) milling about in the shallows
near shore, some eating, some preening, some wandering aimlessly.

A veritable flotilla of ducks swimming upstream from the lake, including
two male, one female, and one unidentified pekin ducks (a.k.a. domestic
ducks, white pekin ducks, or Long Island ducks; Anas domesticus), a male
mallard (Anas platyrhynchos), two male Indian runners (Anas platyrhynchos),
and a male crested Indian runner (Anas platyrhynchos).

That’s it for now, but there’s more to come in future installments.

Allow me to finish with this:

It took me years to realize my Canon PowerShot S50 had a macro setting, let alone what that could do for me. It took me years to develop any level of proficiency with that piece of equipment, my first digital camera. It took me years to feel comfortable with it, to feel confident with changing the settings to fit the conditions. It took me years to start taking respectable images.

My sincere hope now is that it won’t take me years with the S5 IS. I love photography. Something about capturing the moment as I see it means a great deal to me, whether the pictures are just for me or for public consumption. My newest camera, although certainly not a professional piece of equipment, offers tremendous power and advantage when compared to its predecessor. I’m trying to learn its ins and outs as quickly as possible. Considering these photos were taken the first day I had it, I hope I’m making more rapid progress than I did before.

[Next]

Runner at dusk

February 24, 2008 jason Leave a comment

Dusk. Our familiar star settles below the horizon, yet neither light nor dark rule our planet.

Nothing less than otherworldly, the twilight hour defined by a mingling of giants: night and day.

Weak light bends through the air to offer sight in still darkness. Not too much vision, mind you, but enough.

Amongst the foraging creatures stands a runner. Tall, upright, obvious. He towers over his feathered brethren.

Indian runner duck (a.k.a. Indian runner or runner; Anas platyrhynchos) amongst other waterfowl at dusk (20080222_01972)

I stagger at his presence, his defiant stance above his kind, his station. What empowers him to be so different?

Indian runner duck (a.k.a. Indian runner or runner; Anas platyrhynchos) amongst other waterfowl at dusk (20080222_01975)

Gravity.

It’s no more complicated than that.

With legs placed further back than other ducks, his center of gravity rests near his tail. This forces him and his kind to stand up.

And to walk like they’re running.

Indian runner duck (a.k.a. Indian runner or runner; Anas platyrhynchos) amongst other waterfowl at dusk (20080222_01976)

Or marching.

While gabbing ad infinitum with a diatribe meant for the gods.

Still, even in this late hour when daylight and darkness combine, his presence remains unmissable, unmistakable. Even if you’ve seen his kind before, a runner at dusk is a magical thing indeed.

Indian runner duck (a.k.a. Indian runner or runner; Anas platyrhynchos) amongst other waterfowl at dusk (20080222_02011)

[male Indian runner duck (a.k.a. Indian runner or runner; Anas platyrhynchos); also seen are American coots (Fulica americana), mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos), and pekin ducks (a.k.a. domestic ducks, white pekin ducks, or Long Island ducks; Anas domesticus)]

Eyes open

January 11, 2008 jason 1 Comment

Eyes open. This is the command I always follow in my wanderings through nature, through rurality, through urbanite mayhem, through the world at large. I never know what spectacle will be around the next tree or around the next building, let alone what could well be so small as to fit in the next footstep.

So I look.

Last weekend as I meandered about the lake with eyes open, an opportunity arose to see and photograph something I’d never seen before.

A male northern pintail (Anas acuta) in breeding plumage standing on the lake's shore

The northern pintail (Anas acuta) is a duck, but not an ordinary duck in the sense of being from one place or another, whether it be North America or Europe or Africa or—in essence—any single continent. Instead, this species occupies the entire northern hemisphere: all of North America and all of Eurasia. It can be found anywhere north of the equator.

This particular male happens to be wearing the breeding plumage, and being ready to mate offers a spectacular scene. With white stripes extending up the neck and down the beak, striking black vents, and long pointed tail, he certainly is a dashing dabbler.^[1]

Having never before seen such a creature, I followed it along the shore as it swam with a mated pair of mallards (Anas platyrhynchos).

A male northern pintail (Anas acuta) in breeding plumage swimming with a mated pair of mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos)

Called a gregarious species, something I found out only later when I had identified the little winged beast, it comes as no surprise that he spent a great deal of time with and amongst the mallards, American coots (Fulica americana), and other waterfowl.

A male northern pintail (Anas acuta) in breeding plumage swimming with a male mallard duck (Anas platyrhynchos) and some American coots (Fulica americana)

I spent nearly an hour watching this fellow. He loitered about with his mallard cousins, and he came ashore several times giving me the opportunity to see they’re as agile on land as they are in water given their legs are more closely aligned with their center of gravity. I forgot about the camera entirely for a great deal of the encounter, lost wholly in the joy of seeing something new, of feeling that sense of profound discovery that so often comes with remembering a simple tenet: eyes open.

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[1] For those not familiar with the northern pintail, it is a species of dabbling duck, so called because such fowl upend on the water’s surface (leaving butts in the air). This allows them to graze beneath the surface. These ducks rarely dive. It’s of note that mallards are also dabbling ducks.