Tag Archives: spotted sandpiper (Actitis macularia)

Birds I never knew – The End

Haphazard photos taken with the assumption that what lurked at the other end of the lens was something more common than what was discovered in the image later.  Running down a hill snapping picture after picture of something flitting about the shore so far away that I felt convinced it would be better displayed in my memories than in the camera.  A flippant photograph, one taken over my shoulder with nary a thought.

I can’t help but think I chance upon a great many of the images shared here, and not by skill or preparation as much as luck.

Which brings us to the end of our story…

A female yellow-rumped warbler (Dendroica coronata) perched behind bare branches (20071228_00463)

A female yellow-rumped warbler (Dendroica coronata).  I saw across the floodplain in a barren tree some tiny bit of movement as I walked through dry grass.  Winter had long taken hold of the world.  That meant no foliage protected whatever life busied itself in the nearby woodlands.  Still trying to gain comfort with my new camera at the time, I held it up and clicked a few images of what I believed to be a mockingbird.  Thankfully the lens knew better than I and helped clear up the confusion by seeing more clearly than I did.

A male yellow-headed blackbird (Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus) standing in the grass next to a tree (20080420_04303)

A male yellow-headed blackbird (Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus).  An infrequent visitor to White Rock Lake, I immediately recognized it the moment I topped the hill at Winfrey Point.  Clouds had long obscured the world when a flash of gold wrapped in the deepest black turned my attention from the drab surroundings.  Far ahead of me down at the shore danced this marvelous creature.  Watching it flit from spot to spot, I ran headlong, nearly tumbling down the hill several times, and I snapped photo after photo along the way.  The bird vanished long before I approached its location.

A spotted sandpiper (Actitis macularia) in non-breeding plumage standing on a pier (IMG_20080106_00986)

A spotted sandpiper (Actitis macularia) in non-breeding plumage.  A marvelous aspect of the lake comes from how localized wildlife can be.  Looking for buffleheads?  You won’t find them in Sunset Bay.  Looking for American white pelicans?  You’ll find them mostly in Sunset Bay.  The whole lake seems apportioned by species with only a select group claiming the entire refuge.  So as I rounded the north shore and spied a pier overflowing with gulls and cormorants, this tiny bird dashing along the edge drew my attention more than the raucous giants who very much dwarfed it.

An eastern phoebe (Sayornis phoebe) perched on a bare branch (20080120_01484)

An eastern phoebe (Sayornis phoebe).  One thing I learned quickly when I started photographing wildlife is this: No matter what creature you hope to capture in an image, you have better luck if they don’t think you’re looking at them.  As large mammals with forward-facing eyes, we automatically come across as predators.  Other animals recognize that and know when those eyes have settled upon their location.  Pretending not to notice has often given me a better opportunity to take a picture or two than has stopping and looking directly at the subject.  So it was with this phoebe who dashed from tree to tree each time I stopped and took aim.  So instead of trying intently, I tried flippantly: Walking by and quickly pressing the button a time or two as I held the camera over my shoulder.

A great crested flycatcher (Myiarchus crinitus) perched on a fence wire (20080523_05733)

A great crested flycatcher (Myiarchus crinitus).  One disadvantage of visiting the family farm stems from the amount of territory it covers.  The house sits atop a hill with pastures and woodlands stretching in all directions.  While standing in the main yard helping my parents tend to the rabbits, a bit of movement far off in the distance caught my eye.  Something loud flew into view and perched atop a fence.  Without thinking, I turned, faced into the sun, zoomed in all the way despite knowing I was ill prepared for such an endeavor, and I pulled the trigger—photographically speaking.  Much to my surprise, I captured this rather poor image of a bird that rarely stands still.

(Honestly, without time to change lenses or get closer, I took four pictures, all the while telling myself I’d get nothing for the effort.  That even one of them showed the actual subject with any clarity brought a great deal of cheer to my heart!)

A juvenile Cooper’s hawk (Accipiter cooperii) perched in a tree (211_1135)

A juvenile Cooper’s hawk (Accipiter cooperii).  Lake Tawakoni impressed me beyond measure.  The giant spider web overwhelmed me with its vast reach and unexpected majesty, yet every direction I turned offered one more surprise…and one more challenge for my little PowerShot S50.  When this accipiter landed in a tree some distance from me, its tail resting comfortably on a branch behind it as the predator surveyed the morning landscape, I scarcely thought I would be able to see it in any of the photos I took.  Small and compact, the camera I had with me offered few answers to the challenges I put before it.  In this case, however, it at least let me know it tried.

An American goldfinch (Carduelis tristis) seen through brush and branches (IMG_20080105_00804)

This poor unidentified bird left me wanting (see update at bottom of post).  Never having seen its face, let alone a profile shot that might offer a bit more of its plumage for comparison, it landed only once in a small stream hidden by brush and branches.  Its song made me turn and look; the click of the camera made it disappear into the sunrise.

A female northern flicker (Colaptes auratus) clinging to the side of a tree as she looks to the side (IMG_20080106_00932)

A female northern flicker (Colaptes auratus).  The rat-tat-tat of pecking above my head called my attention to an otherwise silent visitor.  She clamored along the tree’s bark high in the treetop, and the faint echo of her efforts provided the only evidence of the encounter.  I backed away snapping photo after photo under less than ideal circumstances: the sun had not yet risen above the treeline; a great number of bare branches stood between me and her position; and her color made her all but invisible in such dim light and at such a great distance.  The only thing I could focus on was the spot of red on the back of her neck.

A male house finch (Carpodacus mexicanus) standing on a bit of tall grass (20080629_08622)

A male house finch (Carpodacus mexicanus).  I followed this chap from Garland Road to Sunset Bay (quite a distance for those unfamiliar with White Rock Lake).  He stayed well ahead of me, and each time I got close and tried to take a photo, he darted further ahead—but always stayed close enough that I could see him.  Native to this area, I never doubted his identity; I did, however, doubt that I would get a respectable image of him.  This is another case of pretending not to notice the very thing I wanted to photograph.  Only when I leisurely walked by as though he didn’t exist was I able to surreptitiously aim the camera at him and snap a few images.

— — — — — — — — — —

The purpose of this series has been manifold:

  1. To show that one need not have the greatest equipment available in order to capture a memory.  None of these photographs will be published, but each of them means a great deal to me.
  2. Every picture doesn’t have to be a work of art, let alone something worthy of inclusion in a nature guide (or other publication).  I’ve been published because of my photography, yet the image that started me down that path was taken with a weak and simple point-and-shoot camera, and it was an image taken only because I wanted to capture a beautiful thing that Mom pointed out to me.
  3. Photography is a personal endeavor.  What I show here has nothing whatsoever to do with wanting to share with the world.  It has everything to do with wanting to experience the world, and once in a while finding that effort resulted in a moment others might enjoy.
  4. I’ve long advocated that a camera at the ready is the most meaningful tool anyone can have, for it enables us to memorialize life as it happens.  A small red bird.  A waterfall casting a rainbow upon the day.  A simple confluence of stars and planets that won’t be seen again for a hundred years.  The list goes on.  Memories are personal and fleeting; photographs can be forever and immemorial.

[Update] I have since identified that bird as an American goldfinch (Carduelis tristis).

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Birds I never knew – Part 3

Ever had the wrong camera for the job?  Ever taken aim and snapped a photo of something so far away that you’re convinced it’s just a leaf blowing in the wind?  Ever taken pictures out of the moonroof of your car while speeding along a busy boulevard?

Truth be told, many times I’ve attempted to capture an image that I knew ahead of time was well outside the scope of my abilities, the power of the camera, and the convenience of the circumstances.

But I never let any of that stop me from trying.

A juvenile yellow-crowned night heron (Nyctanassa violacea) perched on a fallen tree at Lake Tawakoni (211_1130)

A juvenile yellow-crowned night heron (Nyctanassa violacea).  While visiting Lake Tawakoni more than a year ago to see the giant spider web that spanned acre after acre of the shoreline, I chanced upon a small bay thriving with wildlife.  I regrettably had only my previous camera with me, a Canon PowerShot S50, and it simply had none of the range or power I needed for such a vast and beautiful place.  Yet I felt a tinge of excitement when I reviewed the images later and found it had memorialized this child as it stood preening in the morning sun.  The bird had been so far away from me that I couldn’t tell what it was—other than being a large bird, I mean; I was therefore pleased to no end to find that small camera had been able to see what I myself scarcely recognized from across the water.

A male eastern bluebird (Sialia sialis) clinging to a bare branch at the top of a tree (20080414_03480)

A male eastern bluebird (Sialia sialis).  Mom provides several nesting spots for birds around the family farm, and one species that makes it their home every year is the eastern bluebird.  Although we had seen the mated pair busily flitting about the main yard as they tended to their family duties, I had not been able to take a photo as we ourselves were busy with hour own duties.  Standing at the far end of one of the pastures downhill from the house, I happened to see a shadow dancing at the very top of a tree on the far side of the farm.  I decided to attempt a photograph even thought I was at a tremendous disadvantage.

A female lesser scaup (Aythya affinis) swimming in White Rock Lake (20080314_02701)

A female lesser scaup (Aythya affinis).  The males of this species are gregarious, yet the females always seem to be aloof…even a tad disinterested.  I admit once they’re mated they stay with their male counterparts, but as a group waiting to find a man, the females keep to themselves and stay well out of sight.  Imagine, then, my pleasant surprise to find this lone female trailing a group of males well out in the center of White Rock Lake.  I ran around Sunset Bay to find a higher vantage closer to their location, then I took a few pictures despite knowing she was too far away to see clearly.

A female spotted sandpiper (Actitis macularia) hurrying along the concrete steps behind the Bathhouse Cultural Center at White Rock Lake (20080426_04797)

A female spotted sandpiper (Actitis macularia).  After arriving at the Bathhouse Cultural Center where I would begin my walk, I sat atop a picnic table far from the water’s edge as I collected my things, put filters on the camera, and packed spare batteries and the like in the tripod bag.  American coots flying by drew my attention to the lake where I saw this gal bobbing along the concrete steps in the old swimming area.  She wasted no time as she hurried along, so I wasted no time in taking aim and snapping a photo.  As unprepared as I was, and despite my disadvantaged location well away from her position, I was happy I didn’t wait longer than I did: she vanished right after I pressed the button, flitting across the water and arcing quickly through the air out of sight.

A western kingbird (Tyrannus verticalis) perched on a wire (20080712_09306)

A western kingbird (Tyrannus verticalis).  Driving along sans a care in the world save surviving Dallas’s horrific traffic, I do my best to remain aware of the nature that thrives even in this concrete jungle.  I’ve seen American kestrels perched atop light poles, massive hawks circling right above the road, armadillos sauntering along as though they own the place, and all manner of flora and fauna just hoping someone will notice them, appreciate them.  And so it was with this bird.  Resting on a wire hanging above the road, my quick approach meant I didn’t recognize it and wouldn’t be around long enough to do so.  I therefore opened the moonroof and held the camera out above the car as I sped along beneath it.  I didn’t zoom in since that would have made it impossible to take a picture or drive, or both.  What resulted was a wide-angle shot that hid this beautiful little spot of feathers off in one corner of a very large, very blank image.

An eastern kingbird (Tyrannus tyrannus) perched on a plant in the middle of a field (20080426_04631)

An eastern kingbird (Tyrannus tyrannus).  Because one good kingbird deserves another.  No matter how often I visit White Rock Lake and walk the miles of shoreline, I never fail to see a new flower, snake, bird, or other bit of nature.  It’s not that I never noticed before; it’s just that this large expanse offers refuge to so many species that one can never see them all (and that doesn’t include migrants, some of whom are extremely rare in this area).  Well downhill of a massive field of wildflowers and grasses, I saw a red-winged blackbird perched on a wire and decided to try for a shot.  I had to face into the sun to do it, so I knelt down behind some brush to take advantage of the paltry shade it offered.  Only then did my vision clear enough for me to see this kingbird resting far uphill from me in a spot where the plants behind it gave some shade.

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Birds of a feather

Last weekend offered a beautiful opportunity to wander about White Rock Lake like some kind of naturalist vagabond.  Heavy rains from the prior week’s thunderstorms had given way to clear skies, comfortable temperatures and energetic wildlife.

A mated pair of blue-winged teals (Anas discors) watching me carefully (20080412_03185)

The floodplain still under significant amounts of water, this mated pair of blue-winged teals (Anas discors) played coy each time I approached.  I still was able to capture this photograph from a distance as they watched me with suspicion.

Two barn swallows (Hirundo rustica) resting on the bridge over Dixon Branch (20080412_03193)

The bridge across Dixon Branch houses a thriving flight of barn swallows (Hirundo rustica).  While many of their friends flitted to and from the bridge with nesting materials, this pair sat quietly in the shade and watched, almost as though they couldn’t believe the others didn’t stop to enjoy the morning.

A killdeer (Charadrius vociferus) dashing across the floodplain in search of breakfast (20080412_03241)

I spent a great deal of time chasing this killdeer (Charadrius vociferus) across the floodplain.  I only wanted to take a picture, yet it dashed about with abandon, taking flight in brief fits that carried it a bit further away, then a little further, and then further still.  In truth, it wasn’t avoiding me so much as busying itself with finding a meal.

A male red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) turning his beak up at me as I try to take his picture (20080412_03262)

This male red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) turned his beak up at me when I stood next to the tree in which he perched.  He’d glance down occasionally, but mostly he just looked away, giving me the snobbish treatment for interfering with his lady chasing.

A spotted sandpiper (Actitis macularia) pausing to look at me (20080412_03303)

Along the northern shore of Sunset Bay where I stood watching sailboats fight the strong winds (some of them losing the battle with overturned boats and collisions), a spotted sandpiper (Actitis macularia) dashed by me before turning around to see if I would pursue it.  Despite having the sun directly in my face as I captured this moment, I thought this peppy little bird made for a good subject.

A male great-tailed grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus) striding through white clover as he hunts for food (20080412_03343)

And what is a bird post without a male great-tailed grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus).  Ubiquitous around these parts, he looked rather dashing as he strode through the white clover enjoying breakfast.