There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so. –William Shakespeare
Double-crested Cormorant with “Plecostomus,” Fiorenza Park, Houston, Texas. We Texans may be horrified by the proliferation of these South American armored catfish in our waters, but to cormorants that range far to the south, it still feels like home when they’re around. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
l know there is a great diversity of opinion on this subject, but my favorite kind of Texas photo-birding day is the day after a strong blue norther. The howling winds have died down, and the 40º sky is clear, but for a thin haze of cirrus clouds. This kind of day has been in very short supply for several years now.
Eye to Eye: Neotropic Cormorant with “Plecostomus,” Fiorenza Park, Houston, Texas. In this shot, the sun was in the wrong position (or rather I was), leading to too much glare from the water and a backlit bird. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Lately the weather has been wildly variable, with clear, cold days rare. This has meant having to make the most of a wide variety of lighting situations. The two cormorant shots above were taken under what I consider to be “bad” conditions. The sky was mostly cloudy with sunbreaks every few minutes leading to having to constantly chimp settings. When the sun emerged, it produced a blinding, muddy-yellow glare off the water’s surface. Because the fishing behavior documented was happening all around me, the sun was sometimes behind and sometimes ahead—making for an exciting morning of work!
Ad Noctem: An Eared Grebe Paddles off into the Fog, Offatt’s Bayou, Galveston Island, Texas. I like the way the wake ends at a veil of fog. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.Eared Grebe, Offatt’s Bayou, Galveston Island, Texas. Perfect light, but not perfect perspective. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Two recent visits to Offatt’s Bayou occurred during very different optical conditions. The upper grebe and loon immediately below were shot on a gloomy, gray, foggy morning. And the lower grebe and loon were shot on the same glorious, clear, bright morning about a week later at the same place.
This shooting locale (where 61st crosses Offfatt’s Bayou) has only recently become accessible again. Where rickety old docks used to stand, there is now a large raised cement viewing/fishing platform. The problem with the new platform is that it is too high, leading to an extreme shooting angle. The old situation was actually better, assuming you were willing to risk falling into the drink to get the shot. Alas, there’s really nothing to be done about the angle now—except to try and capture some interesting wave forms, colors, reflections, or textures from the surface of the water. Sometimes you have to take what you can get! Progress!
Made in the Shade: Common Loon, Offatt’s Bayou, Galveston Island, Texas. It looks like this bird is swimming in mercury. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.Transitional Common Loon, Offatt’s Bayou, Galveston Island, Texas. Images from this locale tend to look better from a bit of a distance, given the raised nature of the observation platform. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Birds are the most popular group in the animal kingdom. We feed them and tame them and think we know them. And yet they inhabit a world which is really rather mysterious. –David Attenborough
Line of American White Pelicans, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Frankly we haven’t gotten out much lately. This is a function of terrible weather and just plain exhaustion. The prospect of fighting traffic on a gloomly, humid 85° day in February hasn’t held much charm. Spending time indoors has led to combing through the photo archives and pining for past years in which we had a proper winter.
One of the things we would have been watching for this week, had we been outdoors, is the cooperative feeding behavior of American White Pelicans. Whenever I see these birds I stand in awe, just waiting for them to so something neat. Is there anything more majestic in American birding than a string of White Pelicans paddling in formation along the shallows searching for schools of fish?
American White Pelican Feeding Frenzy, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
American White Pelicans are known to cooperatively herd fish into the shallows by beating their wings. On Galveston, a fairly common sight is a line of White Pelicans suddenly forming a circle, beaks pointed inward, and gobbling up a school of fish (presumably).
Pelican Phalanx, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Once the feeding frenzy is over, the birds turn around within their circular formation and reassemble into their line and continue paddling along peacefully . . . until the next school of fish.
Back in Line, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
It might well be that getting used to things up here was simply a matter of getting used to not getting used to them—but . . . .
―Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain
Portrait: Brown-capped Rosy-Finch, Sandia Crest, New Mexico. All the Rosy-Finches have lovely rose-fringed feathers. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Given their alpine habits, shy ways, and (generally) restricted geographic ranges, the Rosy-Finches are among the hardest birds in North America to see. The Brown-capped Rosy-Finch has the most restricted range of the the three species that occur in the U.S. and can only be seen in southern Wyoming, central Colorado, and northern New Mexico. In warmer weather, it tends to occur only at high elevation, but descends in winter. The Black Rosy-Finch has a larger, but sill relatively restricted range within the western interior of the U.S. The Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch has the widest distribution of the three species and ranges from northern New Mexico up through western Canada and Alaska, and across the Bering Strait into eastern Asia. All birds tend to be ground foragers for insects and seeds, which are often collected from the surface of snow. According to stateofthebirds.org, the Black and Brown-capped Rosy-Finches are of high conservation concern, and the Gray-crowned is of high moderate concern.
Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch, Sandia Crest, New Mexico. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Sandia Crest, a snowy mountain-top about an hour drive east of Albuquerque, is an unusual place where all three species can be seen together in small flocks during winter. A gift shop and restaurant can be found on the crest at an elevation of about 10,600 feet. Getting up the icy, winding road to the top can be a bit hairy but well worth the anxiety . . . .
And now the hard part . . . feeders on the observation platform attract the birds which typically come and go throughout the day. The nature photographers in us struggle against this idea of seeking and photographing birds baited to a place. But as birds become rarer and rarer, and time and resources are so limited . . . .
Other alpine birds like Pine Grosbeaks and Red Crossbills can also (theoretically) be seen at Sandia Crest, but we were not lucky in this regard. In addition to the Rosy-finches we saw only Stellar’s Jays, White-crowned Sparrows, and Dark-eyed Juncos.
New Mexico is one of our favorite states to visit. Perhaps it has something to do with the romance of the prehistoric past. Some of the earliest North American cultures are named after places in New Mexico: Folsom, Clovis, and Sandia. Perhaps it is this state’s important role in the history of aerospace and nuclear technology, White Sands, Trinity . . . . To these attractions we can add a number first-rate birding sites like Sandia Crest, San Bernardo and Bosque del Apache NWR. We already have a return visit planned.
Black Rosy-Finch, Sandia Crest, New Mexico. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Beauty in art is often nothing but ugliness subdued.—Jean Rostand
Red in Tooth and Claw: Alligator with Gar, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Some of the most memorable photographs in history are unflinching documents of the brutality of the world. Think of Matthew Brady’s images of the American Civil War, or Robert Capa’s slightly mis-framed, slightly out-of-focus photo of a falling soldier, shot dead during the Spanish Civil War (Loyalist Militiaman at the Moment of Death, 1936). And who can ever forget Nick Ut’s image of a napalm-burned Vietnamese girl running screaming down a road surrounded by scattered refugees and soldiers?
Little Blue Heron with Tadpole, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Despite the fact that many images of waders hunting amphibians depict clean “takes,” the process of spearing and eating a frog is usually a messy business. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Nature, like war, offers up some dark and grisly images. As one who is interested in photographing birds, especially waders, in the act of hunting, I often witness and document violent and bloody scenes. Waders, after all, are stone-cold killers. If a sequence of images is taken, a few images are usually relatively tame–the ones I present to friends, or in talks–or on this site. Often, there are others, typically not shared, with jets of blood and streamers of entrails. Is it not right to share these images, too?
Molting Northern Cardinal with Large Mashed Weevil, near Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This bird made a real mess of a great big black weevil. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Similarly, photographers tend to avoid birds in molt or with injuries, diseases, and deformities. But the more time one spends in the field, the more of these not-so-pretty pictures of nature emerge. Of course, these images may have value as documents of the current state of affairs in a particular place or the world in general.
Green-tailed Towhee with Bumblefoot(?), Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. A beautiful sparrow miles outside its range, this bird appears to have, sadly, bacterially-infected feet. There is a story here. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
And where nature photographers should document unflinchingly is where they observe the continued degradation and destruction of nature at the hand of man, whether through direct action or through the actions of human-introduced species. Who knows, it may make a difference.
Black Vultures with Feral Hogs, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Feral hogs are rooting invasives introduced by humans. They wreak havoc wherever they go. Exhibit A: Here stands a nasty mud-wallow where once stood a charming little island. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Digging in the dirt
Stay with me I need support
I’m digging in the dirt
Find the places I got hurt . . . . —Peter Gabriel, Digging in the Dirt
Golden-mantled Ground Squirrel, Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. This curious and charming little ground squirrel is common throughout its range in the western U.S. and southern Canada. Happily, there are no known specific threats to its continued survival. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
When birds are not around, the bird photographer must find other critters to photograph. Often that honor falls to ground squirrels and kin! As is my usual methodology, I research the animals I encounter in the field. Just as in the case of birds, ground squirrels tell a mixed story of success and struggle in a human-dominated world.
Not surprisingly, we’ve really only seen ground squirrels that are doing pretty well (for the most part) since we haven’t yet mounted specific expeditions to see and photograph the rare and threatened ones like the Mohave, Townsend’s, or Washington ground squirrels. Make no mistake, some ground squirrels are battling for survival against many of the same menaces facing birds–habitat destruction, cats, and poisons.
Black-tailed Prairie Dog, near Roswell, New Mexico. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Although technically considered a species of “least concern,” the areal extent of Black-tailed Prairie Dog colonies has fallen to about 2% of historical levels. Considered by many farmers and ranchers to be pests (Get the bazooka, Joe!), these burrowing rodents are lynchpins of their local ecology. They have many interesting ecological relationships with a variety of other organisms. Birders might be concerned about their fate given their role as prey to a variety of raptors including Red-tailed and Ferruginous Hawks and Golden Eagles. Also, Burrowing Owls will nest in prairie dog burrows (and the burrows of many other mammals, as well). In 2004, the black-tailed prairie dog was removed from consideration for endangered status based on population studies. One wonders what the level of concern would be if the range of human distribution decreased by 98% in a century and a half. I bet everyone would think everything was OK.
The rock squirrel is a suspicious fellow we see occasionally on outings in West and Central Texas and Arizona. This is a big, dark chunky squirrel that is way more timid than one would expect given its heft. Try and flush one of these characters into a pillowcase, BM! At places like Franklin Mountains State Park and Lost Maples State Natural Area, these seed-hogging marauders can often be seen emptying the bird feeders of seeds. In contrast to the prairie dog, this is not a popular squirrel among the birds—nor likely anyone maintaining a seed feeder within its range (Get the blunderbuss, Bob!).
Think what you will of me: I am serene (For now. As long as you stay there. And don’t move). Rock Squirrel, Arizona Sonora Desert Museum, Tucson, Arizona. This squirrel is showing me his hands so I know that he is unarmed. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Although relatively little is known about its ecology, the Uinta ground squirrel is easy to spot at Yellowstone National Park. There are no known threats to its survival, especially since a big chunk of its limited range falls within that park in Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. These critters are considered by some farmers to be agricultural pests (Arm photon torpedoes, Scotty!) because of their unforgivable tendency to dig and root up plants.
Now that we’ve seen quite a few species of squirrel, tree and ground, I have started paying more attention to them. When in a strange place, I’ve stopped assuming every squirrel I’ve seen is a common species (or subspecies) I’ve seen a hundred times before. For example, turns out a patch of habitat we bird occasionally (Cave Creek, Arizona) is home to the Mexican fox squirrel. Maybe next time I’ll capture a nice image of this cheeky critter!
“Get yer finger offa the trigger, amigo! I’m keepin’ my hands where you can see ’em!” Uinta Ground Squirrel, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Take rest; a field that has rested gives a beautiful crop. –Ovid
Who are you? Chris enjoys inspecting flocks of birds for rarities. Recently he scanned a large flock of gulls and terns on Mustang Island and recognized everyone—except the bird above and another like it. Complicating matters is the fact that some species of gulls change their appearance every year for the first few years of life. It turned out that the speckled birds were first-winter Ring-billed Gulls. Not rarities for sure, but it was the first time he had seen this plumage type. Port Aransas Jetty, Mustang Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The last few weeks have been rather hectic, and we’re wiped out. Never fear, we’ll be back on the ball soon sharing some images of, and words about, our incredible Texas avifauna! Cheers, Elisa and Chris
Lone Blue Goose, Bosque del Apache NWR, New Mexico. Thousands of waterfowl winter at this incredible refuge. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Banded Male White-tailed Ptarmigan in Breeding Plumage, Trail at Medicine Bow Curve, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS. Natural light.
Do the leg bands on my subjects ruin the shots for you? Me, I’m on the fence. Generally, Chris and I like to capture an idealized view of nature. We travel to state and national parks, wildlife refuges and nature preserves. We try to avoid shots that include fences, telephone poles, signs and roads. We like our birds au natural.
Nature provides a necessary respite from the human hustle—an escape from the man-made. Perhaps its true for you, too. Alas, the escape is an illusion. Even if we agree that humans are not the center of life on earth, we can’t deny that our influence is all but ubiquitous. How I crave those vistas without a trace of mankind—hard to find when you live in a metropolis. But, peering at the world through a camera lens takes me there. I suspend disbelief with a world view framed by the viewfinder and the silent still images that result.
So, when your subject sports a leg band, it kinda bursts the bubble.
Banded Brown-capped Rosy-Finch, Sandia Crest, New Mexico. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Many agencies and organizations use bird leg bands for tracking purposes. For example, U.S. federal agency bands are for birds covered by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, and state and provincial bands are for game birds (Galliformes). These banding programs are the reason we know what we know about the timing and scale of migration. Some agency programs, such as the North American MAPS (Monitoring Avian Productivity and Survivorship) Program, also produce data on the abundance, survivorship, and ecology of our continental land birds so the conservation community can better address conservation needs.
Banded Female Mountain Bluebird, “The Tree,” Upper Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Chris and I sometimes romanticize the idea of time-traveling to the Pleistocene Epoch and experiencing the world at the dawn of man—before we altered the environment so discriminately in our favor. But here we are, in the Anthropocene, deeply intertwined with so many of our fellow species. And, unlike our fellow species, we know what we do. Conservation science through bird banding places our best foot forward to mitigate some of the damage, or at least learn how to considerately coexist.
So, putting aside all fantasies of a better past, I am compelled to celebrate these unwitting research subjects. They carry a burden for their well being—and so must we.
Banded Female Wilson’s Plover, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Sometimes we feel the loss of a prejudice as a loss of vigor. –Eric Hoffer
Mated Wood Duck Pair, Botanic Garden, Albuquerque, New Mexico. Canon EOS 7D/300mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
There is no question that human influence has penetrated into just about every corner of the world. To get to a truly wild place, one would have to go the ends of the earth. That said, the level of “wildness” encountered while out photo-birding falls along a continuum. Rarely, we are able to get to fairly remote and wild places (e.g., Gila Wilderness). But like many, we generally find ourselves going to national wildlife refuges, national and state and city parks, bird sanctuaries, and so on because that’s what resources allow. In these places, the birds are somewhat used to humans and may allow approaches closer than one would normally expect in the real wilds.
Northern Shoveler Drake, Hans and Pat Suter Wildlife Refuge City Park, Corpus Christi, Texas. At this park, the ducks are perhaps a bit more tolerant of humans than they should be. But still, one false move or a step too close, and they’re gone. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
On the other hand, in some of these quasi-wild places the birds are less tolerant of people than expected or what is natural. Think about wildlife refuges that allow hunting. In some of these places, we’ve had birds flee at the first sight of us—often from a great distance. In the past, in some truly wild places, the animals have been completely naive, allowing humans to walk right up to them an dispatch them. On some remote islands this is still the case.
On a recent visit to the City of Albuquerque Botanic Garden during the middle of the day, we were delighted to find an associated pond with a variety of waterfowl, including Wood Ducks, Canada Geese, Ring-necked Ducks, American Wigeons, and Mallards. Some of these species are typically shy, at least around the Texas Gulf Coast. On the off chance we see Wood Ducks at Brazos Bend or Anahuac NWR, for instance, they are off in a flash. Used to being around humans (and perhaps hoping for a handout) the Albuquerque ducks paddled right up to us. As in the “wild,” the American Wigeons were still distrustful of humans and generally kept their distance, though.
Realizing that in an hour or two the light would be beautiful, we went back to the car and got our gear. For the next few hours we blazed away and collected some nice images. Is this nature photography? Probably not. Technically, these are still wild birds—or wildish birds. In a world of ever-dimishing nature, sometimes you have to take what you can get.
Wood Duck Drake, Botanic Garden, Albuquerque, New Mexico. Canon EOS 7D/300mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind. –Nathaniel Hawthorne
Portrait: Black Rosy-Finch, Sandia Crest, New Mexico. The Black is one of the toughest birds in the Lower 48 . . . except at Sandia Crest. We were thrilled to photograph all three species of Rosy-Finches at this locale, a glorious snow-capped alpine peak. Some of these images will figure in future posts and articles. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC) Natural light.
Another year of enjoying birds in the field has come and gone! Please check out some of the highlights. Here’s to the next field year!
The two most joyous times of the year are Christmas morning and the end of school. –Alice Cooper
Male Arizona Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis superbus) on Century Plant Bloom Stalk, Cave Creek Canyon, Arizona. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
The Two Shutterbirds wish all our friends and readers a merry, merry Christmas!
Female Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis magnirostris) at Dawn, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
A note to our readers: Corporate America strikes again. Upon returning to Houston on Christmas Eve after a birding road trip to West Texas and New Mexico, we discovered to our horror that a number of new problems with twoshutterbirds had magically appeared. Turns out that our “friends” at Google had altered the agreement involving a purchased plug-in called WP Maps ex post facto. Changes to this program prevented many maps already loaded into the WordPress program from loading onto the site. After many hours of attempting to remedy the problem by visiting on-line forums, going through lines of code, etc., I’ve given up trying to fix a problem caused by the unethical, venal, and incompetent behavior of Google. So, for a few days you may notice some glitches in our site that I’m currently working to edit around. Cheers, Chris
There is one kind of robber whom the law does not strike at, and who steals what is most precious to men: time. –Napoleon Bonaparte
It was tremendously satisfying to watch this color parade. –Erno Rubik
Black-bellied Plover in Juvenile Plumage, Port Aransas, Texas. Photo taken in late November. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
On the Texas Gulf Coast, birders can see Black-bellied Plovers in all plumage types, except down. Nonbreeding colors are easiest to see here, and in other coastal wintering areas from the Canadian border to South America on both East and West coasts. Although a few birds summer along the Texas Gulf Coast, Black-bellied Plovers breed exclusively in the High Arctic, so seeing nestlings in down would be a major undertaking.
Black-bellied Plover (Nonbreeding) at Dawn, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Photo taken in late October. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Birds in transitional plumage can be seen during spring migration. Beginning in late March, birds in these intermediate colors can be seen fairly easily at such places as Frenchtown Road, Rollover Fish Pass, and across Galveston Island. By May, birds in dramatic breeding plumage can be seen in these same places. From mid-August to October, Black-bellied Plovers appear again in Texas for fall migration, and to begin their winter residence.
Black-bellied Plover in Transitional Plumage, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Photo taken in mid-April. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
When we first started birding, different seasonal plumages seemed to be a nightmarish complication to an already challenging hobby. But we have grown an appreciation for these changes: Rather than seeing them as an identification problem, we consider them an opportunity. Even common birds like Black-bellied Plovers can provide the challenge of seeing and photographing birds in every plumage type.
Male Black-bellied Plover in Breeding Plumage, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Photo in mid-May. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
. . . the great floodgates of the wonder-world swung open . . . ― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick
Long-billed Curlew in Flight, Sunset Lake Park, Portland, Texas. Photo taken from a sandbar in Corpus Christi Bay. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Birding the Coastal Bend in Late Fall: Part 2
One of our favorite spots to bird when in the Corpus Christi area is Sunset Lake Park. The park is located on a peninsula, Sunset Lake to the west, Corpus Christi Bay to the east. This park contains a lovely stretch of shelly beach with sandbars close to shore. Sandbars along the Texas Gulf Coast are magical places, and are often covered in flocks of pelicans, terns, gulls, waders, skimmers, and shorebirds.
On this latest visit, Royal Terns, Marbled Godwits, and Long-billed Curlews predominated. As usual now on coastal trips, we brought our tall rubber boots and were able to wade out to the sandbars, a technique we often employ at East Beach, Galveston. The simple addition of boots to your field gear will dramatically transform any birding trip to the shore. It took us a few years to figure this out—just how many college and graduate degrees do we have? Maybe not enough.
American Oystercatcher with Small Bivalve, Sunset Lake Park, Portland, Texas. Photo taken from a sandbar in Corpus Christi Bay. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
One of Chris’ favorite spots on the Coastal Bend is the Hans and Pat Suter Wildlife Refuge City Park on the south side of Corpus Christi. A shelter overlooks a stretch of beach that is often packed with ducks and waders during the colder months. This spot is great for gory hunting scenes and beauty shots of ducks, especially Northern Shovelers, Gadwall, Redheads, and American Wigeons.
The “freshwater channel” that cuts across the northern edge of the park is another gem of a birding spot, especially for ducks. Here, the birds typically allow a close approach. Ignore the sign that says “do not pass beyond this sign.” Kidding.
Finally, we are sometimes apprehensive about having our car broken into or being mugged at Suter given the sketchy characters loitering around the parking area. It’s almost comical the way they look away when you glance in their direction. So with the caveat that you may be taking your life in your hands, we highly recommend this park!
Gadwall Hen, “freshwater channel,” Hans and Pat Suter Wildlife Refuge City Park, Corpus Christi, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.American Wigeon Hen, Hans and Pat Suter Wildlife Refuge City Park, Corpus Christi, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light: the extra catchlights are reflections off the water.
