Author Archives: Chris Cunningham

Seas and Shores of the Imagination

We climb a ridge, and a shout of surprise involuntary arises from our lips as we find the waters replete with strange animals, and the sun above us darkened by the wings of great flying dragons . . . . Charles H. Sternberg (Popular Science News, December, 1898)

Pelicans Soar Above Turbulent Seas, Bryan Beach, Texas
Pelicans—or if You Squint, Pterosaurs–Soar Above Turbulent Seas, Bryan Beach, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Last Sunday we took an excursion to Bryan Beach and the lagoons behind. On this day, the seas were rough, and I watched in awe as Brown Pelicans sailed through the troughs of a churning waterscape. I couldn’t help but think of the spectacular scenes of the Late Cretaceous Epoch painted by Charles R. Knight (at the absolute height of his powers) for the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago in the late 1920’s—especially the oft-reprinted breaching mosasaur and turtle with Pteranodon skimming the giant swells in “turquoise, gray, and rose” (Knight’s words).

 

I like to imagine that places like Bryan Beach and environs are not unlike much of what Midcontinent North America was like when the Western Interior Seaway connected the Gulf of Mexico with the Arctic. But of course there are tremendous differences: Texas Gulf Coast bays, for example, typically have only about 15 cm of tidal variation in sea-level, but mathematical models of the Western Interior Seaway suggest that it was subject to around 0.5-1.0 m of tidal variation along the southern boundary (e.g., Erickson and Slingerland, 1990).

To my imagination, this suggests vast areas of tidal channels, mudflats, and marshes dotted with countless millions of birds hunting, fishing, and probing for prey. But except for birds like Hesperornis (and kin) and Ichthyornis what these birds were like remains largely a mystery as only fragmentary remains assigned to around twenty or so genera are known.

A mixed flock of waders hunts among a school of small fish, Bryan Beach, Texas
A Mixed Flock of Waders Fishing, behind Bryan Beach, Texas. Here a white morph Reddish Egret participates in a “drive” of small fish across a shallow lagoon. Note the dark morph Reddish Egret in the upper left corner. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

The main reason I frequent the shallow lagoons behind Bryan Beach (other than reverie) is that this area is a reliable spot to see Reddish Egrets, both dark and white morphs. On this trip, we saw both color phases. I was especially excited to see Reddish Egrets hunting alone and in mixed flocks of waders and shorebirds. At one point, a large group of White Ibises, Snowy Egrets, Lesser Yellowlegs, and Dowitchers encountered a school of small fish and swept across the lagoon together in a communal fishing “drive.” Sometimes the Reddish Egrets broke off from the flock and fished alone—although sometimes a few Snowy Egrets, Lesser Yellowlegs, or Dowitchers shadowed them.

With a little imagination it’s easy to envision such scenes occurring along the tidal mudflats and lagoons of the Western Interior Seaway. Squinting at the above scene, it might be easy to believe that you are seeing the Cretaceous cousins of today’s birds. But sorting out the taxonomic nightmare of what you are seeing would have been a bit dicier in the Late Cretaceous than it is today. Feathers, it seems, were widely distributed among dinosaurs, so many of those little feathered bipeds hunting and fishing across those mudflats were not close modern bird relatives at all, but rather dinosaurs, or perhaps even more likely, members of the strictly Mesozoic avian groups that perished at the end of the Cretaceous Period.

Reddish Egret (White Morph), near Bryan Beach, Texas
A Reddish Egret (White Morph) Fishes Alone, behind Bryan Beach, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Finally, sometimes lost in my imaginary Cretaceous, I have to remind myself that I can stray to the waters’ edge—no fear in our time of being confused with a small dinosaur . . . and a mosasaur bolting from the shallows and dragging me kicking and screaming into the surf.

Reference

Erickson, M.C. and Slingerland, R. 1990. Numerical simulations of tidal and wind-driven circulation in the Cretaceous Interior Seaway of North America. Geological Society of America Bulletin 102 (11): 1499-1516.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Quest for the New

Of all the passions of mankind, the love of novelty most rules the mind. In search of this, from realm to realm we roam. Our fleets come loaded with every folly home.—Foote, in Treasury of Wisdom, Wit, and Humor by Adam Wooléver (1891, 5th ed., p.301)

Green Kingfisher, World Birding Center, Edinburg, Texas
Female Green Kingfisher, World Birding Center, Edinburg, Texas. Although cagey and suspicious, kingfishers are among my favorite birds. Whenever I hear their clicking (or clattering, depending on species), I hope for a photo-op . . . but they rarely oblige. This was my first quality encounter with a Green Kingfisher. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

As one tied to the work-a-day world most of the time, finding new things in the field is always exciting. First (quality) encounters with species are my favorites, but observing new behaviors by familiar ones often must suffice. Last weekend, for example, a naturalist friend (RD) pointed out the barn spider below apparently eating her own web—something I’d not seen a spider do before. It is widely held that spiders do eat webs to re-utilize protein, and the one below appeared to be doing just that.

A Barn Spider Consumes her own Web, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
A Barn Spider Consumes Her Own Web, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Eventually the spider ate the entire strand to the upper right. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS. Natural light.

But based on the severe limitations of time and money, I usually have to find “novelty” where I can. For example, the recent shot below of a newly-returned-from-the-Arctic-for-the-winter Black-bellied Plover may reflect my closest contact with this species.

Admittedly the self-imposed pressure of always looking for new things can sometimes defeat the purposes of amateur nature photography: learning about nature and relieving the stress and strain of daily life and possibly extending life itself. Elisa is clearly better at simply getting out there and enjoying the sights and sounds and sensations. I have to (paradoxically) work on not working so hard.

Portrait: Black-bellied Plover, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas
Portrait: Black-bellied Plover, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. By October, many shorebirds have returned to the Texas Gulf Coast for winter. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

The Odyssey of the Brown Pelican

The story as told in The Odyssey doesn’t hold water. There are too many inconsistencies.–Margaret Atwood

Juvenile Brown Pelican in Flight, near Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas
Juvenile Brown Pelican in Flight, Galveston Bay, near Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Last weekend we made the most of the phenomenal weather and birded the Coast, specifically East Beach, Galveston, and Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula. Although the weather was amazing, not many birds were around, Brown (and a few American White) Pelicans, excepted. A spectacular frenzy of diving for fish that I observed near Frenchtown Road got me thinking about Brown Pelicans.

A Brown Pelican Manipulates a Fish into Swallowing Position, near Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas
A Brown Pelican Manipulates a Fish into Swallowing Position, Galveston Bay, near Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

I was tempted to repeat the oft-told (and published) tale of how how DDT usage caused the decline of these birds in the U.S. through egg shell thinning, and how they rebounded once the pesticide was outlawed. An offhanded recent comment by an astute friend with a chemistry background (DT) that “DDT doesn’t cause egg shells to thin” gave me pause, though.

A quick internet search revealed a wealth of information about the numbers of Pelicans present in Texas and California in the early to mid-20th Century, as well as other potential causes for the collapse of Brown Pelican populations. I would encourage readers to do their own search and come to their own conclusions . . . . but by my reading of history, in California, the story involves oil spills (note ingested oil does cause thinning of egg shells), disease (Newcastle Disease, specifically), and (horrifyingly) the outright killing and disturbance of nesting birds by, of all people, government employees.

In Texas, the story appears more straightforward: hunters and fisherman in the early 20th Century (before DDT) simply shot most of them. Since the Brown Pelican was placed upon the Endangered Species List in 1970, its numbers have rebounded—and I for one am delighted.

A Pacific Brown Pelican Comes in for a Landing, Offatt's Bayou, Galveston Island, Texas
The Holy Grail of Pelican Sightings in Texas: A California Brown Pelican Comes in for a Landing, Offatt’s Bayou, Galveston Island, Texas. Atlantic and Gulf populations of Brown Pelicans have blackish-green throat pouches. Pacific Coast populations have brilliant red throat pouches. This photograph was taken the same day we saw a Pacific Loon, another Texas Gulf Coast rarity. Sometimes birds don’t read the field guides. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Dreaming of Cold Weather Coastal Birding

The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.–Jacques Yves Cousteau

Cormorant Portrait, Leonabelle Turnbull Birding Center, Mustang Island, Texas
Neotropic Cormorant, Leonabelle Turnbull Birding Center, Mustang Island, Texas. Unperturbed, this bird fished a few feet from the photographer. Neotropic Cormorants are far more tolerant of humans than their Double-crested cousins. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

The time is almost here . . . the time when the wretched heat finally breaks once and for all, and we can look forward to the longest stretch of pleasant weather on the Texas calendar. And the place to spend this glorious time is undoubtably on the coast.

Long-billed Curlew, Indian Point Beach, Corpus Christi, Texas
Displaying Long-billed Curlew, Indian Point Beach, Corpus Christi, Texas. This bird was trying unsuccessfully to communicate with me. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Once those blue northers start blowing in, it’s off to the field at every opportunity! We’re already hatching plans for visits to Frenchtown Road, Galveston, and Mustang Island. Beaches, estuaries, and lagoons, here we come!

American White Pelicans Discover a School of Fish, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas
American White Pelicans Discover a School of Fish, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. White Pelicans steam along the shallows single-file until they encounter a school of fish—when they form a ring of co-operative feeding. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Focus on Bird Behavior

Admiration and familiarity are strangers.–George Sand

Sunning Yellow-crowned Night-Heron, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Paark, Texas
Ta-Dah! Sunning Yellow-crowned Night-Heron, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park (BBSP), Texas. This bird was exhibiting gular fluttering while sunning. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Last week we finally got back into the field for a few hours. Although one of the best birding spots in the country, Brazos Bend State Park is not what we consider a fall migration hot spot. But we decided to visit the park because our photographic skills are rusty due to summer traumas, and we thought that a familiar place might make getting back into the swing of things easier.

Admittedly, it’s sometimes difficult to maintain a fever-pitch of enthusiasm for such a familiar place. At BBSP I find myself looking for subtle new details I’ve not noticed before to stay interested and energized. For example, I’ve seen Yellow-crowned Night-Herons sunning in the above fashion several times before. But when I first saw this bird at distance, it had splayed out its primaries into a spiky display. By the time I hustled into shooting distance, though, the bird had settled into the somewhat familiar pose above—although the feathers at the wingtips were still a bit splayed. Maybe some day I’ll catch one of these birds in the act of the aforementioned display, perhaps providing clues as to what they’re really up to with this sunning behavior. Are these waders just drying the morning dew from their plumage? Or perhaps they’re treating parasites or infections with the purifying rays of the sun (as I’ve seen Green Herons do), or heating up bellies to aid in digestion–or something else? Further study is needed.

Also on Elm Lake, I caught the Pied-billed Grebe below as it took an exceptionally violent bath. At times it looked like a fountain was springing forth from the lake’s surface! As in the case above, I missed the real action as moments before this tough little bird had just grabbed a fish about one-third its size and . . . . down the hatch. Perhaps this grebe felt like cleaning up after a particularly tough fight and messy meal.

Finally, on this trip I was also trying to get used to my new Canon EOS 7D Mark II. This was only the third time in the field for the new body. I don’t feel I’ve achieved any better results yet with the Mark II than with my old 7D’s, although the new camera certainly feels better. It’s just a ridiculously well-made object. Frankly, it’s one of the best-built cameras I’ve ever held in my hands—even nicer than my old Leica and Contax cameras, which I consider to be works of art. At this point, this lack of better results is almost certainly due to operator error, as this camera is a technological tour de force. With practice, I hope to be able to live up to the potential of this remarkable instrument.

Bathing Pied-billed Grebe, Elm Lake, BBSP
Motor Boat: Bathing Pied-billed Grebe, Elm Lake, BBSP. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Swallows: A Glimpse of Paradise

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow’s wings.―William Shakespeare

Barn Swallow, Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado
Barn Swallow in Early Morning Light, Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. The Barn Swallow is the most widely distributed member of its family in the world. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

At times like this, the dreary end of a dreary Houston summer, my mind turns to some of those magical places I’ve visited in the past. Upon recollection, some of the most enchanting visions of nature have occurred in the presence of swallows. I remember such a scene in Yellowstone National Park where American Tree and Violet-green Swallows snatched insects from the air and lapped water on the wing from the surface of a beaver pond. Last spring I first noticed American Tree and Rough-winged Swallows performing similar aerobatic feats above Pilant and 40-Acre Lakes, Brazos Bend SP.

Violet-green Swallow, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
Violet-green Swallow at Dawn, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

As a birder I pay close attention to swallows, as they often present an identification challenge while in flight (Is that a Cave or Cliff Swallow?). As a photo-birder, I often pay swallows too little attention as photographing swallows in flight would be quite a trick. Swallows are not particularly swift fliers, but their darting, acrobatic style of flight makes capturing them in the air something I’ve not yet accomplished, except under stalled circumstances like approaching a nest or perched young. Maybe someday I’ll catch one gliding across the surface of a liquid. Until then, I’ll just have to wait for them to land.

Baby Purple Martins, Estero Llano Grande State Park, Texas
Feed Me! Baby Purple Martins, Estero Llano Grande State Park, Rio Grande Valley, Texas. Purple Martins are the largest swallows in North America. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Building a New Nest

We have it in our power to begin the world over again.—Thomas Paine

Great Egret with Nesting Material, Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas
Great Egret with Stick (Nesting Material), Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

After over three months of dealing with the aftermath of the Memorial Day 2015 flood, we were finally able to move back into our house this week! It is still a huge mess, and we are still dealing with contractors and loads of construction-related headaches, but we are in the house and can at least conceive of accomplishing something beyond clean-up and simple survival. We are looking forward to the end of the summer swelter and some fall birding. Please stay tuned!

Downy Woodpecker Excavating Nest, Sabine Woods, Texas
Downy Woodpecker Excavating Nest Cavity, Sabine Woods, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Birding Big Bend, Texas in Summer (Part 3): Canyon Towhees at Dawn and Dusk

Light makes photography. Embrace light. Admire it. Love it. But above all, know light. Know it for all you are worth, and you will know the key to photography.–George Eastman

Canyon Towhee at Dusk, Basin, Big Bend National Park, Texas
Canyon Towhee at Dusk, the Basin, Big Bend National Park, Texas. At dusk in the Basin, the landscape is bathed in a warm red light just as the sun disappears below the mountains. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Canyon Towhees are usually described as drab (“dirt-colored”) nonmigratory desert sparrows of the Southwest. Their charms are, perhaps, a little more difficult to appreciate than those of most birds, but closer inspection reveals a subtle beauty . . . cinnamon undertail coverts, speckling on the breast, a rusty mohawk. And careful observation reveals a few charming behaviors, notably picking dead bugs off parked vehicles and huddling together in the chill of the desert night. In the harsh scrubland environments that these birds inhabit, none of the elements of survival can be wasted–especially not on flamboyance of any kind!.

Basin at Dusk, Big Bend National Park, Texas
The Basin at Dusk, Big Bend National Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/Tokina 11-16mm f/2.8 @16mm. Natural light.

The blistering desert sun of a Big Bend summer requires the photo-birder to operate primarily at dusk and dawn. In the Basin, where Canyon Towhees are most observable, the optical conditions at dawn are quite different from those at dusk. Dawn light is cool and gray-green, whereas just before sunset the basin is bathed in a warm red light as noted above. It’s hard to tell, though, how much of the reddish light comes from atmospheric physics and how much is light reflected from the oxide staining that covers the Chisos.

Canyon Towhee at Dawn, Basin, Big Bend National Park, Texas
Canyon Towhee at Dawn, the Basin, Big Bend National Park, Texas. This bird is enjoying the last of the cool air of the day . . . before the blast furnace fires up. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Like many desert birds, Canyon Towhees are curious and will allow a close approach (or they may even approach the birder!). But once they decide the actions of the intruder are threatening or inscrutable, they disappear into the arid landscape.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Birding Big Bend, Texas in Summer (Part 1)

May the sun bring you new energy by day, may the moon softly restore you by night, may the rain wash away your worries, may the breeze blow new strength into your being, may you walk gently through the world and know it’s beauty all the days of your life.―Apache Blessing

Pyrrhuloxia, Sam Nail Ranch, Big Bend National Park, Texas
Pyrrhuloxia on Hackberry, Sam Nail Ranch, Big Bend National Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Big Bend National Park (BBNP) is in one of the most spectacular corners of Texas. Broadly, BBNP consists of three major zones: Chihuahuan Desert, Chisos Mountains, and riparian habitats flanking the Rio Grande River. BBNP boasts the largest number of recorded species of birds of any U.S. national park (around 450), with about 50 being permanent residents, the others being nesters or migrants. BBNP is certainly one of the crown jewels of Texas birding.

For this trip we stayed at the Chisos Mountain Lodge in the “basin,” a depression in the center of the Chisos Mountains at an elevation of around 5400 feet. The Chisos are erosional remnants of Tertiary volcanoes that punched up through the local stratigraphic column. This volcanism ended around 12 million years ago. Surprisingly, the weather near the lodge was fairly pleasant even in early August, with highs around 90° F and lows in the mid-60°s F. Only during the heat of the day was it impossible to photo-bird due to the blazing sun. Around the lodge we saw numerous Say’s Phoebes, Canyon Towhees, and Scott’s Orioles.

In many ways, the lodge area is similar to Cave Creek Canyon in the Chiricauhua Mountains region of southeast Arizona, perhaps our favorite birding destination of all. Both are mountainous madrean “sky islands” in the surrounding desert. In the case of the Chiricauhuas, though, the mountains are surrounded from the east by the Chihuahuan Desert and from the west by the Sonoran Desert, whereas the Chisos reside entirely within the Chihuahuan Desert.

Chihuahuan Desert, Big Bend National Park, Texas
Chihuahuan Desert, Big Bend National Park, Texas. Much of the lower elevation parts of BBNP look like this: a desolate rocky landscape dotted with ocotillo, creosote, mesquite, sotol, agave, and grasses. Canon EOS 7DII/Tokina 11-16 @16mm. Natural light. Hand-held.

For this trip we decided to work primarily at low elevation, reserving high elevation hot spots for a future trip in an upcoming May to see (among others) the famous singing male Colima warblers. Working at low elevation meant birding during early mornings and evenings only. From 10am to 7pm in the desert the temperatures routinely topped 100° F, and the sun cut like a knife.

Singing Yellow-breasted Chat, Sam Nail Ranch, Big Bend National Park, Texas
Singing Yellow-breasted Chat, Sam Nail Ranch, Big Bend National Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Much of the best birding at low elevation in BBNP is to be found at abandoned ranches. Here, wells provide the life-giving water that makes these spots oases in the desert. Our first stop was the Sam Nail Ranch where we were thrilled to find both birds and shade.

At Sam Nail, we spent most of the time shooting from behind the ruin of a mud wall into a thicket backed by cottonwood and pecan trees. In general, the birds were wary and did not allow a close approach, and after about 9am, the light was incredibly harsh. In any case, we saw Varied and Painted Buntings, Yellow-breasted Chats, Northern Cardinals and Mockingbirds, Pyrrhuloxias, a variety of flycatchers (the subject of a future post), Bell’s and Hutton’s Vireos, Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, Summer Tanagers, Blue Grosbeaks, Ladderback and Golden-fronted Woodpeckers, and White-winged Doves (Mexican mountain race).

The Painted Buntings, Blue Grosbeaks, Yellow-breasted Chats, Northern Cardinals, and vireos were all singing at Sam Nail. Likewise Cactus Wrens and a variety of other wrens and thrashers could be heard singing and calling from the surrounding desert.

On the second morning, Elisa turned around to find a Bobcat sitting in the path behind us, but the beast was within the minimum focus distance of her 500mm lens! Later we heard a low feline growl emanating from the thicket behind us, and we decided to cut our visit short: an estimated 25 Mountain Lions live in BBNP and attacks on humans are not unknown.

One evening we also visited Dugout Wells, another abandoned ranch, where we found numerous Pyrrhuloxias, woodpeckers, and thrashers. Loggerhead Shrikes hunted the ranch, and I made a half-hearted attempt to find shrike kills posted on thorns, but frankly the heat was so intense that I could hardly move carrying the 600mm lens and had to photograph Jackrabbits and Desert Cottontails from a patch of shade until the insane fireball in the sky disappeared behind a distant thunderhead.

Jackrabbit, Dugout Wells, Big Bend National Park, Texas
Jackrabbit at Dusk, Dugout Wells, Big Bend National Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Although Roadrunners are common throughout the park, we decided to take a special trip to the Rio Grande Village camp grounds and Daniels Ranch one morning to see and attempt to photograph them up close. Roadrunners were as abundant as reported in A field Guide to the Birds of Big Bend by Roland Wauer–as were Inca Doves, woodpeckers, and flycatchers (including summering Vermilion flycatchers). But by 9:30am it was so sweltering that we decided to move on to higher elevation.

Roadrunner Portrait, Rio Grande Village, Big Bend National Park, Texas
Roadrunner Portrait, Rio Grande Village, Big Bend National Park, Texas. You know it’s hot when Roadrunners are suffering. This bird was engaged in a number of thermoregulatory behaviors including resting in the shade, gaping, gular fluttering, and feather rousing to expose bare skin to the air. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Hand-held from truck; natural light.

Big Bend is one of those majestic places that demand repeated and prolonged visits. And we are drawing up plans to visit again during the other seasons. I can hardly wait.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Shooting Macro Off in the Weeds

He that will enjoy the brightness of sunshine, must quit the coolness of the shade.–Samuel Johnson

Orb-weaver, Prairie Trail, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
Garden Spider (Orb-weaver), Prairie Trail, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Argiope aurantia typically builds webs in protected areas on the edge of open spaces. This one built her web out on the prairie. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. High-speed synchronized ring-flash.

In the summer, especially after about 9:30 am, it’s generally way too bright to do much good photo-birding (except maybe with some fill-flash), so I like to wander off into a grassy area and take advantage of the fireball in the sky and shoot some macro. Shooting with apertures smaller than f/11 requires intense light, so rather than being an obstacle to overcome, the blistering summer sun is actually a help.

Cloudless Sulphur, Prairie Trail, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
Male Cloudless Sulphur (Phoebis sennae), Prairie Trail, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Birds of the grasslands are notoriously uncooperative photographic subjects, so I am used to coming away from prairies empty-handed as far as bird photos are concerned. Further, I have learned to be satisfied with other kinds of images from this habitat. I know that some can entertain themselves by shooting wildflowers, and I can too for a while, but I need to see an animal now and again to stay interested for more than an hour or two.

Because the majority of wildflowers are yellow or white (I think), I will often times make a special effort to track down and identify plants with blooms of different colors. Purples, oranges, and reds are my favorites because of the richness of the images they can provide. The Western Wallflower below, for example, attracted my attention from the road while driving through Rocky Mountain National Park. This plant produces a spectacular multicolored bloom to which no mere photo can really do justice.

Although we can get away from the Texas Gulf Coast for a few days now and again during the summer, the harsh reality its that we are stuck here most of the time. The Texas Gulf Coast summer is a nice mix of hurricanes, blistering sun and drought, and floods. And staying happy in the field at this time of year requires flexibility, a sense of humor, and the capacity to remain interested in a wide variety of photographic subjects—many times not including birds.

Western Wallflower, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado
Western Wallflower (Erysimum capitatum), Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. High-speed synchronized ring-flash.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Observing Spoonbills and Ibises

He was born when I was six and was, from the outset, a disappointment.―James Hurst, The Scarlet Ibis: The Collection of Wonder

White Ibis Nest with Nestlings, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
White Ibis Nest with Nestlings, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This nest contains two nestlings: The one on the left is much larger. In this image, the parent is feeding the smaller of the two, and the larger chick is plotting to knock the smaller one from the nest, “accidentally,” of course. Note that this ibis nest, like the spoonbill nest below, is in an invasive Chinese tallow tree. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).

After a photo-birder friend (LM) told me about the White Ibises nesting on the the south edge of Pilant Lake, I recently spent a few hours trying to photograph nestlings. Only one nest can currently be photographed (above), but there are many others back in the swamp—and the air is filled with the weird gurgling noises ibises make.

The one nest that can be seen is still rather difficult to photograph given its distance from the trail and the profusion of vegetation. But I could see that the nest contains two nestlings, one much larger than the other. Likely the smaller chick simply hatched later, the size disparity exacerbated by the bigger chick receiving more than its fair share of food along the way. Such a disparity in nestling size often spells doom for the littlest birds. In this case, though, the little bird is a real fighter and chased mom’s beak around relentlessly hoping for a morsel or two of regurgitated crawfish. I hope it makes it, although the odds may be against.

White Ibis with Crawfish, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend Sstate Park, Texas
White Ibis with Crawfish, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Ibises are enthusiastic consumers of aquatic arthropods. White Ibises nesting in salty environments will travel to freshwater environments to collect crawfish for their young. Baby ibises have poorly developed salt glands and can’t handle the high salt content of marine and brackish arthropods. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

The long, curved beak of ibises is used to probe into burrows and crevices occupied by a variety of prey. The rapid up-and-down motion of the beak reminds me of a sewing machine. At BBSP, it’s common to see White and White-faced Ibises grabbing a variety of aquatic arthropods including predaceous diving beetles (larval and adult) and crawfish. Frogs and small fish are taken, too, as are the bulbs of some aquatic plants.

Spoonbill Nest with Nestlings, Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas
Roseate Spoonbill Nest with Nestlings, Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. The chick on the far left is much smaller than the others. In Roseate Spoonbill nests that I have photographed, the smallest sibling is usually listless and helpless seeming, clearly not long for this world. The little bird above was consistently left out of the feeding frenzy initiated by the return of an adult bird. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Spoonbills and ibises constitute the Family Threskiornithidae, the former being close relatives of the Old World Ibises. I tend to think of spoonbills simply as ibises with a specialized feeding strategy: Typically the bill is waved back and forth through the water to capture prey, vertebrate and invertebrate, which is then flipped up into the air and ingested (below).

Feeding Spoonbill, Myakka Rivefr State Park, Florida
Feeding Roseate Spoonbill, Myakka River State Park, Florida. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

We have seen all U.S. species of ibises, including the Scarlet Ibis, an exotic South American and Caribbean native that was introduced into Florida in 1961. We saw this species on Sanibel Island at the J.N. Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge on the the west coast of Florida about seven years ago. A small group of these birds was walking along the strand line of this famously shelly beach. This sighting, dear reader, was before we were serious photo-birders, so you’ll just have to take my word that it occurred! We hope to return one day and document the behavior of these spectacular, brilliantly-colored Tropical birds.

White-faced Ibis with Predaceous Diving Beetle, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
White-faced Ibis (Non-breeding) with Predaceous Diving Beetle, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Photographing Big Mammals

The difference between humans and other mammals is that we know how to accessorize.–Madeleine Albright

Bighorn Ram, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado
Bighorn Ram on Alpine Tundra, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

My primary objective in the field is almost always to find and photograph birds. But when no birds are around, one must make concessions to mother nature. Photographing large mammals can be fun, too, but they present a few challenges. Most importantly, many of them are dangerous.

Bathing Bear, Lamar Valley, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
Bathing Bear, Lamar Valley, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light (Would you flash a strobe at a Grizzly?).
American Bison Calf, Oklahoma
American Bison Calf, Tallgrass Prairie Preserve, Oklahoma. Even though I was standing on the road, this was a scary shot to get: Momma was right there! I wouldn’t do this again. I’d use the 600mm. Canon EOS 7D/100-400mm f/4.5-5.6 L IS @ 100mm. Natural light.

Even the humble deer can be dangerous. I’ve seen videos of grown men being kicked and gored all the way to the emergency room by infuriated deer. Bears . . . well, what more is there to say? Chills run up my spine when I think of how foolishly close I was to the bathing Grizzly Bear above. Little known fact, though: American Bison are the most dangerous animals in North America (other than humans, of course).

Black-tailed Deer fawn, Hurricane Ridge, Olympic National Park, Washington
What was that? It sounded like a camera shutter! Black-tailed Deer fawn, Hurricane Ridge, Olympic National Park, Washington. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Both Elisa and I have had unplanned encounters with large mammals in the wild. Recently while chasing woodpeckers around in Colorado, Elisa suddenly looked up to find herself face-to-face with a bull Elk—and he wasn’t backing down. Gingerly, she slinked away, keeping her photographic accessories between her body and the beast.

Once while in Wyoming, I was chasing Western Tanagers around in a grove of cottonwood and aspen trees by the banks of a stream in Grand Teton National Park. Oblivious to everything but the birds and the light, I glanced up to find myself about five feet from the female moose shown below. I was sure I was about to be kicked through the pearly gates! But ever so slowly (keeping my tripod and camera between the animal and myself), I crept backward. Once I put about ten yards between the moose and myself, she slowly walked off into the forest.

It took me a while to regain my composure after that one.

Female Moose, Grande Teton National Park, Wyoming
Possibly Dangerous Female Moose, Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.