Some of you may recall that last November I photographed an amazing encounter between a Prairie Falcon and a hapless Northern Shoveler along the causeway to Antelope Island. These are photos of that experience that I haven’t posted before.
I’ve been a fan of strong graphic lines in my images ever since my friend Richard Ditch introduced me to their potential a few years ago. The source of those lines may be natural or unnatural but since my subjects are mostly birds and many of them perch on fences, my graphic lines are often provided by fence wires. In some ways I’d prefer natural elements in my images but wires can also be compositionally and visually interesting
This past May while photographing a pair of nesting Osprey at Flaming Gorge I observed a behavior that was new to me. It’s a little thing but when added up these little things all help to fill in the big picture – a better understanding of the species.
Many in the birding world don’t like Brown-headed Cowbirds much, for reasons that have been bandied about for years. But I have no problem with them, especially when one of them quite unexpectedly pops up into one of my images in a rather dramatic way.
Early this morning, before leaving to look for birds on Antelope Island, I saw a Facebook post by my friend, bird aficionado and artist extraordinaire Bryce Robinson. It was a simple post, saying simply ” “I felt a change in the air today. The Roughies are coming…” and it was illustrated with one of his fine drawings – a portrait of a Rough-legged Hawk. The “change in the air” that Bryce was referring to was our first nippy cold morning after a long, hot summer and such changes always bring thoughts to mind of the return of the Rough-legged Hawk.
Then I spent the morning on the island looking in vain for birds (it’s very slow out there right now) so as I drove around my mind wandered regularly to thoughts of Roughies – inspired by Bryce’s post and the chilly temps (51 degrees on the causeway).
Mia and I have been visiting the Centennial Valley for about five years now (usually 3-4 times every summer) and at least once each trip, as we passed this lichen-covered rock next to the road, I would mention to her how much I would like to photograph a raptor on one of these red rocks. There’s just something about my fondness for each, the lichen covered rocks and birds of prey, that has made that kind of photograph a personal goal. But it never happened for some reason. The birds of prey just don’t seem to perch on them, preferring instead the fence posts, utility poles and trees that are usually a little too far away from the road. It’s been an unfulfilled goal for a long time.
But all that changed last week.
Yesterday morning (early, very early) we headed north looking for raptors and even ended up in Idaho for a while! We found good numbers of Ferruginous and Red-tailed Hawks, a few American Kestrels and Turkey Vultures and one Prairie Falcon. But this juvenile Swainson’s Hawk was our most cooperative subject, partly because it chose such a colorful setting.
Northern Harriers are well-known for aggressive behavior toward larger raptors intruding on their territory but seldom chase off raptor species smaller than themselves. This interesting behavioral quirk apparently results from the ability of harriers to steal food from smaller raptors. It’s easier to pilfer prey from a smaller species than it is to catch it yourself so harriers let them hang around.
While photographing a juvenile male Mountain Bluebird in Montana last week I was struck by the interesting variation in color and patterns of the adult male in breeding plumage as compared to those of the juvenile male. I thought some viewers might be interested in a photographic comparison of some of their development stages.
One afternoon on our latest Montana trip we decided to do a little “sploring” (as we call it) and investigate some country new to us so we spent several hours cruising the back roads on the south side of the Centennial Mountains. We found a beautiful mountain valley very close to the continental divide that provided a variety of habitats but few birds.
But it did give me my best photographic opportunity ever with a Montana coyote.
On Wednesday morning we stopped on a gravel road overlooking a lake with a steep drop off to my left where we scoped the trees growing from the bottom of the slope for birds. There was a small clump of berry bushes growing within a few feet of my pickup which we mostly ignored, figuring we were too close to them for any birds to be there.
Suddenly this Cedar Waxwing swooped in and landed right in our faces to feast on the berries.
Occasionally I just have to vent about some of my photography frustrations.
Every nature photographer has them. Landscape photogs spend countless hours waiting for just the right light and dramatic clouds which often never materialize, those specializing in wildlife (especially mammals) often cannot even find their subjects, macro nature photographers have to deal with slight breezes that can ruin their shots and those who focus on flowers have a limited season.
But bird photographers may have the most challenging subjects of all (perhaps my bias is creeping in here, but I doubt it).
For years I tried to photograph swallows in flight, usually without much strategy – just shooting them wherever I might find them. That typically meant while they were freely flying overhead or buzzing the surface of a pond or stream as they picked off insects and it always meant failure on my part. They’re just too fast, too small and too maneuverable for my autofocus and reflexes.
Then one day I decided to change strategies…
Last week we drove up to the top of Bountiful Peak in the Wasatch Mountains via Skyline Drive. The 25 mile (not including the side roads we took) loop road between Bountiful and Farmington is gravel, winding and narrow but the views of the valley below from elevations up to 9200 feet are spectacular and the wildlife and bird possibilities beckoned us. We mostly struck out with birds but had a great time with a momma moose and her calf at the edge of some ponds.
About a year ago I spent some time with this juvenile Red-tailed Hawk as it honed its hunting skills. It wasn’t yet a very good hunter but it sure tried hard. It typically perched on top of some rocky outcrops as it scanned the grassy slopes below for voles. Then it would swoop down and make its attempt, though it seldom caught anything that I was aware of. Learning to hunt isn’t easy and the price to pay for failure is a dear one.
