Author Archives: Chris Cunningham

Birds Fishing at Low Tide

Posted January 16, 2016 by Chris Cunningham

If the earth should cease to attract its waters to itself all the waters of the sea would be raised and would flow to the body of the moon.—Johannes Kepler, Astronomia nova (1609)

Among all the great men who have philosophized about this remarkable effect, I am more astonished at Kepler than at any other. Despite his open and acute mind, and though he has at his fingertips the motions attributed to the earth, he nevertheless lent his ear and his assent to the moon’s dominion over the waters, to occult properties, and to such puerilities.–Galileo Galilei, Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems (1632)

Great Blue Heron with fish, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas — *Great Blue Heron with Killifish,* tidal channel near Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Last weekend offered up the most spectacular weather imaginable, and we headed to East Beach, Galveston and Frenchtown Road, Bolivar. Arriving at low tide, our timing was perfect. Both these localities present exceptional naturalist experiences, especially at low tide. Where else is there evident a more elegant connection between the astrophysical, geological, and biological worlds than in an intertidal zone?

Cormorant with fish, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas — *Neotropic Cormorant with Killifish,* tidal channel near Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

At East Beach we watched Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs hunt among the ripple marks, tidal channels, and pools abandoned by the retreating tides. Vast flocks of Black Skimmers whirled overhead and large numbers of gulls, terns, and American White Pelicans gathered on emergent sand bars.

Near Frenchtown Road, low tide means that oyster patch reefs are exposed, and Red-breasted Mergansers, cormorants, and waders fished in the tidal channels between the reefs. Shorebirds like American Avocets, Willets, and dowitchers hunted among the exposed clusters of oysters. Forster’s Terns were plucking small fish from the surface waters of the channels. I was surprised to observe the Willet below catching fish in the shallows between patch reefs—usually these birds are grabbing crabs from among the oysters.

Frustratingly, I realized that (being a landlubber from Minnesota) I do not know my Gulf Coast tidal zone fishes, so I could not identify any of the birds’ menu items. To remedy this situation, this week I ordered a copy of Fishes of the Gulf of Mexico: Texas, Louisiana, and Adjacent Waters by Hoese and Moore. It will sit next to my Peterson Field Guide to Freshwater Fishes of North America North of Mexico—so soon I’ll at least have a shot at identifying piscine prey, no matter the salinity.

Willet with fish, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas — *Willet with Blenny,* oyster reef near Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Photographing Birds in Gloomy Weather

Posted January 9, 2016 by Chris Cunningham

A cloudy day or a little sunshine have as great an influence on many constitutions as the most recent blessings or misfortunes.–Joseph Addison

Reddish Egret in the Fog, South Padre Island Birding Center, Texas — *Reddish Egret in the Fog,* South Padre Island Birding and Nature Center, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

I am sometimes surprised by which images turn out and which don’t. Light is magic, and photography is all about light. By magic I mean inexplicable—or at least very hard to explain in the context of how a camera records light. Case in point: we were recently attempting to photograph Sandhill Cranes in a field on Galveston Island. It was a clear, beautiful day, and I had a distant but unobstructed view of the birds. I wasn’t expecting National Geographic results because the cranes were too far away, but shot after shot was utter garbage.

The humidity was low (which was good), but it was windy (which was bad). I could tell that the UV index was high (I got a sunburn through sunscreen), and I just couldn’t achieve focus using autofocus or manual focus. I first tried bracing the lens on a fence post with image stabilization turned on, then off. When that failed, I returned to best practices: tripod with cable release. But still, everything farther than about ten yards away was blurry and washed out. Was invisible (to the unaided eye) turbulence creating some sort of mirage-like effect? I turned the camera on and off—even switched bodies thinking that there was a malfunction. Somehow, conditions simply weren’t right for photography—black magic. The next day I looked like W. C. Fields with windburn, sunburn, and a bar tan.

Semipalmated Plover, South Padre Island Birding Center, Texas — *What a Shorebird Sees: Mostly Mud.* Semipalmated Plover, South Padre Island Birding and Nature Center, Texas. Sandpipers and plovers scurry along the tidal mudflats all day day long waiting for infaunal invertebrates to betray their positions. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Other days, with fog or rain or lots of gray gloomy clouds, strangely, and against all odds, some nice images can be captured—white magic. I know that some photographers and viewers even prefer the look of results achieved during these dark, gloomy overcast days. All the images in this post were taken on a road trip to South Texas a few years ago. In fact, all were taken on the same day, except the kingfisher. And it was a winter like this one, with lots of rain and clouds and fog and mist and cursing by yours truly.

Female Green Kingfisher, South Texas — *Female Green Kingfisher,* South Texas. We found this bird at a strange little city park in South Texas. I remember the day (we sneaked up on a Harris’s Hawk that was hiding in a bush), but can’t recall the name of the town. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural gloomy light.

Of course, these dark days test your skills. To keep ISO below 800 for reasonable image quality means shooting at ridiculously slow shutter speeds (like 1/80 to 1/320) and breaking the 1/f shutter speed rule that I like to follow–even on a tripod with cable release. At these slow speeds, you’re in mirror-slap territory, especially on a tripod, and any puff of wind or contact with the gear can have deleterious effects. And patience is required to capture even the hint of a catchlight, an important aspect of wildlife photography.

Finally, because I pursue this hobby for personal growth and physical and mental health, seeing sunlight is so important. Like most Americans I suspect that I am Vitamin D deficient due to being cooped up so much at work. On these gray days, the spirits lift during an occasional sunbreak. The image of the Common Yellowthroat below was happily captured at the end of a gloomy, misty day just as the clouds parted (finally!) at dusk.

Common Yellowthroat, South Padre Island Birding Center, Texas — *Common Yellowthroat among Cattails,* South Padre Island Birding and Nature Center, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Bird Photography without Birds

Posted January 2, 2016 by Chris Cunningham

Anything can happen in life, especially nothing.–Michel Houellebecq, Platform

Sapsucker holes, Stephen F. Austin State Park, Texas — *Sapsucker Holes in Vine,* Stephen F. Austin State Park (SFASP), Texas. Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers are common in the bottomland forests of SFASP. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Lately interesting bird sightings have been as rare as intelligent discourse during a presidential election or quality programing on network TV. The last few weeks of iffy weather and striking out on scouting expeditions to places we’ve never visited before (or perhaps only visited a time or two years ago) and seeing little in the way of birds got me thinking: Hey! I don’t need any birds to do bird photography! I can just take pictures of where birds have been! It also got me reminiscing about the all the other times out birding when we saw nothing!

Woodpecker ravaged tree, Minnesota — *Hope you didn’t need this tree for anything: Woodpecker-ravaged conifer tree,* Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, Wisconsin. Theoretically eight species of woodpeckers inhabit this woods in summer, but we saw exactly zero. This woods seemed sparsely populated with birds in general. There were plenty of mosquitos, though! Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L Macro. High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Acorn Woodpecker Larder, Portal, Arizona — *Acorn Woodpecker Larder in Oak Tree,* Portal, Arizona. Acorn Woodpeckers stash acorns in little niches that they chisel into oak trees. It’s all about planning for an uncertain future! It’s neat to watch Acorn Woodpeckers insert the acorn into its niche and hammer it into place. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Of course, other than abandoned nests and footprints in the mud (or droppings on a post), if you’re looking for signs of past avian activity you’re pretty much looking for woodpecker handiwork. Woodpeckers are among my all time favorite birds and have been chiseling holes in trees for at least the past 25 million years, since the late Oligocene Epoch. I used to think that petrified wood was a pretty mundane fossil until I started reading about ancient woodpecker holes—now I’ll be checking those hunks of fossil wood and hoping! Incidentally, there is lots of petrified wood around the Texas Gulf Coast, but being mostly Eocene (56-34 mya) it’s way too old for evidence of woodpecker activity, though. Pity.

Bark peeled by American Three-toed Woodpecker, Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado — *Conifer Bark Peeled by American Three-toed Woodpecker,* Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Seeing a Three-toed Woodpecker actually flaking off some bark would have made my day. These shy, rare birds are looking for bark beetle larvae. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Finally, while watching a Hairy Woodpecker chisel holes in the side of some guy’s house in Colorado last summer, I just had to admire the panache and devil-may-care attitude. Never mind that the hapless owner probably toiled thirty years to pay off the mortgage: let’s blast some holes! There may be tasty grubs inside those 2×4’s! Like City of Houston road crews, hammering away and leaving a lunar landscape behind, woodpeckers work their magic and are on their way!

Female Pileated Woodpecker, Olympic Peninsula, Washington — *It’s Like They Just Don’t Care:* Female Pileated Woodpecker, Olympic National Park, Washington. This bird showed little remorse for knocking gaping holes in a wooden retaining wall at Kalaloch Beach while looking for carpenter ants and beetle larvae. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Additions to Collections and Articles: American Sparrows and Hunting Waders

Posted December 26, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

Collecting has been my great extravagance. It’s a way of being. I collect for the same reason that I eat too much-I’m one of nature’s shoppers.–Howard Hodgkin

Savannah Sparrow, Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas — *Savannah Sparrow,* Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

With the recent terrible weather (mostly), we’ve spent most of our time in the field scouting out new locations that could be used for photography when the light improves. In the meantime, I’ve added a few new images and ideas to Texas American Sparrows and Stalking the Hunters: Observing and Photographing the Predatory Water Birds of Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Please take a look!

A Black-crowned Night-Heron Surveys Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *A Black-crowned Night-Heron Surveys Elm Lake,* Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Shooting Macro while Birding Quintana, Texas in Late Fall

Posted December 19, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

Pick a flower on Earth and you move the farthest star.–Paul Dirac

Mexican Turk's Cap, Quintana, Texas — *Giant Mexican Turk’s Cap (Malvaviscus penduliflorus),* Quintana Neotropical Bird Sanctuary, Quintana, Texas. Hummingbird nectar plant, Mexican native. Canon EOS 7DII/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. Hand-held, high-speed synchronized macro ring-flash.

We’ve gotten into the habit of stopping at the Quintana Neotropical Bird Sanctuary (QNBS) on the way back from birding Bryan Beach and the lagoons behind—even outside the times of spring and fall migration, when it’s unlikely that there will be many birds around. I am interested in having a feel for Gulf Coast migrant traps year-round. These migrant traps are, to my mind, some of the most precious natural resources along the Gulf Coast. Likely the first major trip we’ll take upon retirement will be an April coastal road trip from Dauphin Island, Alabama to Paradise Pond, Texas hitting as many migrant traps as possible. On our last trip to Quintana, though, we saw only Ruby-crowned Kinglets, a Brown Thrasher, and an Eastern Phoebe in the sanctuary itself.

Shrimp plant, Quintana, Texas — *Burgundy Shrimp Plant (Justicia brandegeena),* Quintana Neotropical Bird Sanctuary, Quintana, Texas. Hummingbird nectar plant, Mexican native. Canon EOS 7DII/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. Hand-held, high-speed synchronized macro ring-flash.

The Gulf Coast Bird Observatory and the Town of Quintana, the entities that maintain the QNBS, have planted a number of native and non-native nectar plants for birds, hummingbirds in particular. The taxonomic diversity of nectar plants insures that blooms will be present when the birds, mostly Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, pass through in spring (March, April, and into May) and late summer (August and September). The plants also attract insects which serve as food for insectivorous birds like warblers, tanagers, vireos, and flycatchers. I much prefer the aesthetics of food plants, even if they are not native, to feeders. What could be better than a sighting or an image of a hummingbird or oriole drinking nectar from a flower, especially a native flower? These food plants are part of chain of resources that allow the movement of birds back and forth between the Neotropics and North America . . . they literally reach out and touch the entire biosphere of the Americas . . . .

Cape Honeysuckle, Quintana, Texas — *Bee Emerging from Cape Honeysuckle (Tecoma capensis),* Quintana Neotropical Bird Sanctuary, Quintana, Texas. Not a true honeysuckle, but rather a bignonia. Hummingbird nectar plant, South African native. Canon EOS 7DII/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. Hand-held, high-speed synchronized macro ring-flash.

Not having many birds around allows me to focus on my neophyte macrophotography skills. Blooms can be beautiful, but clearly the presence of an insect adds a lot to any flower image. No matter how spectacular the bloom my eye is always drawn to the bug, no matter how drab or nondescript (as in the shrimp plant above).

In conclusion, one piece of advice for budding flower photographers: get a macro ring flash. Are you reading this, MP? The naturalist at the Red Slough Wildlife Management Area (southeast Oklahoma), David Arbour, was kind enough to take us on birding tour of the refuge several years ago and said that flash was not only helpful, but necessary for macrophotography. After several years in the field since then, I completely agree.

Lantana, Quintana, Texas — *Lantana camara(?),* Quintana Neotropical Bird Sanctuary, Quintana, Texas. Naturalized in Texas. Butterfly magnet, hummingbird nectar plant, too. Canon EOS 7DII/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. Hand-held, high-speed synchronized macro ring-flash.

‘Tis the Season for Vegetable Foods

Posted December 12, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself.–Henry David Thoreau

A Gray Squirrel Munches Maple Seeds, near Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *A Gray Squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) Munches Ashleaf Maple (Acer negundo) Seeds,* near Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Gray Squirrels subsist mainly on seeds and nuts, but also eat a variety of animal foods including bird eggs, amphibians, and insects. It’s fairly common to see Texas tree squirrels munching on cicadas when they’re around. Some references also report cannibalism. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Frequent readers of this blog may know that I prize images of birds struggling with prey above all others. But sometimes the birds and mammals of the marsh and forest, either through preference or requirement, dine on plant foods—especially during the colder part of the year when insects and other arthropods are less abundant.

A Swamp Sparrow Plucks Seeds from a Plant, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *A Swamp Sparrow Plucks Seeds from an Unidentified Plant,* Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Swamp Sparrows eat mostly grasshoppers during the warm months and seeds during the winter. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

It’s sometimes a challenge to identify animal prey items seized by birds and other animals. Plant foods are often even more of a challenge—unless the meal is something easy like hackberries, tallow seeds, privet fruits, maple seeds, and so on. Sometimes birds are munching seeds or buds of what I (as no botanist) consider fairly nondescript, difficult to identify plants. The fact that there are so many invasive species around these days only complicates the task. I will often make attempts at identification, but these are often frustrated by constraints of time and available references—but it’s fun to try!

An American Coot Forages for Aquatic Plants, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *An American Coot Forages for Aquatic Plants,* Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Coots are primarily herbivores, but like many birds and small mammals, they will eat small animal prey (mostly mollusks and arthropods) and carrion. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Those Charming Titmice

Posted December 5, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

Charm is an intangible. Chutzpah, charm, charisma, that kind of thing, you can’t buy it. You either have it or you don’t.–Colm Feore

Tufted Titmouse, Edith L. Moore, Texas — *Tufted Titmouse,* Edith L. Moore Nature Sanctuary, Houston, Texas (ELM). Image taken in February. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Among the most charming of the small songbirds are the titmice. Along the Upper Texas Gulf Coast, Tufted Titmice are common year-round. And they are a delight to encounter in the woods, as they peer back with those curious, yet suspicious eyes!

Tufted Titmouse Chick, Edith L. Moore, Texas — *Tufted Titmouse Chick,* ELM. Tufted Titmice nest at ELM. Image taken in March. Canon EOS 7D/100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS. Hand-held, natural light.

Tufted Titmice seem to prefer arthropod prey (including spiders and their egg cases), but will eat nuts, seeds, and fruit during the winter. They will also visit seed and suet feeders during the lean months, but to my eye, they never seem completely at ease in doing so, being true wild creatures of the forest.

Tufted Titmouse with Caterpillar, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *Tufted Titmouse with Caterpillar,* Tower Trail (Warbler Alley), Brazos Bend State Park. Titmice are great arthropod hunters. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Small super-active songbirds like the titmice may be the supreme challenge for the bird photographer—especially under completely natural conditions (i.e., not baited and not near a feeder). Take a look at Elisa’s beautiful image of a singing Black-crested Titmouse from Lost Maples. We often see Bridled Titmice on our frequent trips to southeast Arizona, but I have yet to capture any really nice images (These birds are fast!).

We have seen all but two species of North American titmice: The Oak Titmouse (California), and the Juniper Titmouse (Southwest U.S., west of Texas). I have no doubt they will be just as challenging and charming as their Gulf-Coast kin!

Watching for . . . Winter Stuff

Posted November 28, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative. –Oscar Wilde

Pine Siskin, Portal, Arizona — *Pine Siskin,* Portal, Arizona. These birds are common across the Lower 48 in winter—except along the Gulf Coast. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

At some point during the winter, a major blue northern will, hopefully, blow through and stay. Until then we’ll check the radar and bore each other (and the ghost of Oscar Wilde) with endless conversations about the temperature, humidity, jet stream, and El Niño.

But even with the iffy weather, late fall and early winter seem to be the times for charming and oddball little discoveries. Last weekend the first real Arctic blast swept across Texas. Optimistically we headed to the Coast. But at 8 am Sunday on East Beach, Galveston the winds were howling so we aborted our attempts at shorebird photography (a strong wind can twirl the barrel of a supertelephoto lens around and conk an inattentive bird photographer across the skull!) and headed for Lafitte’s Cove.

Hoping the oak motte would expend some wind energy, we approached the trees. But alas, it was still too windy for big glass, and so we settled for binocular birding. On the way into the motte, we heard a Northern Mockingbird imitating the clattering call of a Belted Kingfisher—a first for us. Once in the trees, I spotted a Pine Siskin among a small group of American Goldfinches. This was my first ever sighting of a Pine Siskin on Galveston. Although (according to the literature) Siskins do rarely make it down to the Coast during winter, I have to think that this bird was blown off course by the massive cold front that had just arrived, perhaps 30 hours before.

House Finch with Yellow, Houston, TX — *Male House Finch with Yellow on Head and Throat,* Houston, Texas. Color in male House Finches is a result of the mix of plant pigments found in their almost all-vegetable diet consumed during molting, such as carotenoids, but the biochemistry is complex. Female House Finches are thought to prefer males with redder coloration. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

In late fall/winter trees are bare, and as a result we see more songbirds than at any other time of the year. This is a good time to look for statistically rare individual color variations. Sometimes in winter, for example, it’s possible to observe diet-induced House Finch color variants, namely male birds with orange or yellow on their heads and throats (rather than red). I don’t know what the proportion of yellow- and orange-headed male House finches is—but it must be only one in dozens of birds.

This is also the time to really watch waders hunting. I’ve already mentioned the treefrog hunting that goes on around the southern margin of Pilant Lake (and I saw some more of that this week), but it seems that birds are having to work harder and are tapping somewhat atypical resources. The Little Blue Heron below, for example, was hunting in a patch of water hyacinth—and catching grasshoppers. Over the years I’ve watched Little Blues eat countless small fish, frogs and crayfish, but this is the first time I’ve seen one eating grasshoppers. Usually it’s Cattle Egrets that are grabbing katydids and grasshoppers. Perhaps times are getting a little lean, and everybody is a little less picky and willing to eat anything that moves.

Finally, the strangely warm and humid weather that has dragged deep into November has had one very nasty side effect: an explosion in the population of vicious biting gnats. I’ve always been sensitive to gnat bites, but these suckers raise huge itchy welts that hurt for days. On Wednesday of this week, gnats were so thick at Brazos Bend State Park that even the birds were being dogged by clouds of these nasties. So here I sit, hoping for a hard freeze to settle the bugs’ hash once and for all—and begin the real, lovely birding season.

Little Blue Heron with Orthopteran (Grasshopper), Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *Little Blue Heron with Orthopteran (Grasshopper),* Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Note that this bird is speckled with gnats. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

November’s Musings: Of Starlings and Treefrogs

Posted November 21, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

The acrid scents of autumn,
Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear.–D. H. Lawrence, Dolor of Autumn, 1916

Flock of Blackbirds and Starlings, Fort Bend County, Texas — *A Flock of Starlings (Mostly) and Brewer’s Blackbirds,* Fort Bend County, Texas. Imagine the horror such a horde of implacable, ravenous mouths ready to devour seeds and crops would have struck in the hearts of early farmers in the ancient Middle East . . . and everywhere ever since. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Elisa and I made the most of last weekend’s gorgeous weather and birded Brazos Bend State Park, both Saturday and Sunday. On the way back home Sunday, we saw a massive flock of blackbirds and Starlings in an agricultural field. Shortly thereafter, tapping some primal anxiety in the face of crops being stripped to the ground, I assume, Elisa brought up Genesis 1: 26, a verse we have both lamented and puzzled over . . .

And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

Could its sentiment be in response to an alternative viewpoint or movement, one that emphasized Man’s place in nature, rather than his supposed dominion over it? Was a reference to God’s will intended as an argument-ender—much as the Israelite claim on the very land of Canaan itself?

The putative author of Genesis is, of course, Moses. Tradition has it that this book was written around the 15th century B.C., during the Bronze Age. Agriculture was not new at this time. Surely some had noticed the impacts agriculture had upon the land, even in antiquity. Perhaps these hypothetical romantics turned their eyes back to a more ancient lifestyle, the way of the hunter-gatherer, a way that is now all but extinct. You will search in vain for a more succinctly articulated statement of mainstream Man’s attitude toward nature, or a more impactful one, than Genesis 1:26. Over the millennia, it has certainly proved the winning position . . . .

In any case, at Brazos Bend, the sights and sounds were typical for the season. Yellow-rumped Warblers, Tufted Titmice, Carolina Chickadees, and Carolina Wrens were everywhere in the hackberry, willow, and Chinese tallow trees that line the paths surrounding 40-acre, Pilant, and Elm Lakes.

A Great Egret Hunts Green Treefrogs, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *A Great Egret Hunts Green Treefrogs on Vegetation,* Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park (BBSP), Texas. This bird carefully inspected the vegetation for hiding treefrogs, quite oblivious to the photographer and noisy mobs of passing Boy Scouts. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).

But I can only report one new observation from these days at BBSP: A Great Egret hunted Green Treefrogs (Hyla cinerea) among the tall vegetation (mostly rice) along the southern margin of Pilant Lake (between the tower and the bridge). I have seen Little Blue Herons, Tricolored Herons, and American Bitterns hunting treefrogs in this area on previous occasions, but this is the first time I’ve seen a Great Egret doing it.

All four species have a similar hunting technique: rather than keeping their eyes down on the ground in search of fish, crawfish and other invertebrates, and other frog species, the birds carefully inspect the stalks of vegetation from top to bottom, and around all sides, and occasionally pick off the treefrogs. The treefrog hunting behavior is also quite different from when the waders are looking for dragonflies. Dragonfly hunting can involve snatching the insects from the air, or picking them off the very top of eye-height or shorter vegetation. As always, while hunting treefrogs these birds slide their heads back and forth like Hindu dancers apparently to use their stereoscopic vision to judge the exact distance for a strike.

It seems that Brazos Bend will often reward the vigilant observer with new sights, no matter how often one visits.

Little Blue Heron With Tree Frog, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *Little Blue Heron With Green Treefrog,* Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This photo was taken almost a year to the day before the Great Egret image above: apparently November is the month for hunting treefrogs! Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Double Take

Posted November 14, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks.—William Shakespeare, Macbeth (Act 4, Scene 1)

Young Red-tailed Hawk, Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas — *Young Red-tailed Hawk,* Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas. Elisa captured this image of a hawk that was hunting among the thickets. Most young hawks don’t make it into fully adult plumage. I rediscovered this image while perusing our archives on a miserable rainy day. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS. Natural light.

During the dreary, rain-spoilt part of last weekend, in bitter anticipation of the next monster rain storm (Monday into Tuesday), I perused our photo archives in search of interesting tidbits to brighten my mood. Some nice shots I’d forgotten about did resurface, like the hawk above.

But birds do often lead a more hardscrabble life than we sometimes think. Not surprisingly, close re-inspection of images sometimes yields evidence of disease or parasites. The Bay-breasted Warbler below–that frustratingly stayed in the shadows of a thicket–turned out to have a tick above the left eye, for example. Birds are subject to infestation by a variety of disease-causing ticks, and some researchers worry about the introduction of diseases into North America by migrating Neotropical birds.

Bay-breasted Warbler, Lafitte's Cove, Galveston island, Texas — *Bay-breasted Warbler with Tick,* Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. This bird was part of small wave of Bay-breasted Warblers that showed up at Lafitte’s Cove for a few days during spring migration 2015. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

In addition to evidence of parasitism and disease, I sometimes find physical injury to birds when I return to the archives and really scrutinize the images. In the field I didn’t notice the spine-like projection under the lower jaw in the Lesser Yellowlegs below. At first, I thought the spine might really be a spine—as in a fin-spine that pierced the floor of the lower jaw, perhaps when the bird attempted to swallow a fish. But clearly a fish with a fin spin that large would be too large to attempt to swallow. On closer inspection, it appears (based on color and texture) that the spine is a shard of the lower jaw that continued to grow, perhaps after being fractured. If any readers know more about the origin of such injuries, I would be interested in hearing about it.

The result of these sorts of searches serve to remind that nature, like the world of Man, can be a harsh place. Birds face a gauntlet of challenges, and I often regret not being able to do more to preserve them and their world.

Injured Yellowlegs, lagoon near Bryan Beach, Texas — *Injured Lesser Yellowlegs,* lagoon near Bryan Beach, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Two Wet Ducks?

Posted November 7, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

My sorrow, when she’s here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.–Robert Frost

Female Hooded Merganser, Paradise Pond, Port Aransas, Mustang Island, Texas. — *You can only get so wet: Female Hooded Merganser,* Paradise Pond, Port Aransas, Mustang Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Last weekend we had another brush with Mother Nature, namely about eight inches of rain. We were out of town hoping to do some birding at Dinosaur State Park (Golden-crowned Kinglets!) in north Central Texas. Early on Saturday morning we learned to our horror that (once again) our neighborhood had flooded, so we hustled home to find our garage inundated. Water had just barely topped our foundation, and so we barely avoided a repeat of the major disaster of Memorial Day 2015.

Early this week, however, we learned that yet another El Niño-spawned storm system was headed for Texas. So, alas, this week has been one of preparation for the next noachian deluge (and pointless fretting, also), rather than significant work on twoshutterbirds.com. Apparently a foot and a half of rain in two weeks isn’t enough. We won’t know the final outcome of this round of storms until after this post.

Tired of squishy, soggy ground and the smell of mildew, I’m starting to long for the next La Niña-spawned drought with the slow dying of the greenery, the cracking of the earth with concomitant buckling of our foundation, burst water mains around the neighborhood, and the daily struggle to open and close our doors without snapping keys off in the locks. I’m pining for the formation of still another broiling bubble of high pressure over Texas producing weather worthy of the Congo and making me resemble Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen–but shielding us from the next monster hurricane . . . . Ah, the good old days!

Golden-crowned Kinglet, Skillern Tract, Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas — *Female Golden-crowned Kinglet Gleaning Bugs,* Skillern Tract, Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas. I was hoping to see some of these darling little birds at Dinosaur State Park, as I have before. But it was not to be. As you might guess, these birds are lightning fast and *really* tough to photograph. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Additions to Articles

Posted October 31, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

All the revision in the world will not save a bad first draft: for the architecture of the thing comes, or fails to come, in the first conception, and revision only affects the detail and ornament, alas!–T. E. Lawrence

Magnolia Warbler, Lafitte's Cove, Galveston Island, Texas — *Magnolia Warbler During Fall Migration,* Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

From time-to-time I like to expand upon earlier writings. This week I added some thoughts and images to The Four Seasons of Birding: A Retro-prospective. Please take a look!

Birding by Camera | Adventures in Nature Photography

Author Archives: Chris Cunningham

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Photographing Birds in Gloomy Weather

Bird Photography without Birds

Additions to Collections and Articles: American Sparrows and Hunting Waders

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Those Charming Titmice

Watching for . . . Winter Stuff

November’s Musings: Of Starlings and Treefrogs

Double Take

Two Wet Ducks?

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