Black-bellied Plover with Ghost Shrimp(Family Callianassidae), Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Hello again, friends! Chris’ last post reminded me of the photos I have to share of a Black-bellied Plover plucking ghost shrimp from their burrows. Watching shorebirds pull infaunal invertebrates from tidal mudflats is definitely my idea of a good time! These photos were taken last April, when the bird was starting to molt into its breeding plumage.
I knew this plover had something big when the typical run-pause-pluck, run-pause-pluck hunting style was suspended at the “pluck.” There it was, its bill up to the nostrils in mud, completely frozen. A few beats later, a mound of mud erupted as the plover slowly pulled up a bizarre looking worm (because everything’s a worm-right?). Well, turns out, it was an arthropod – a ghost shrimp to be precise – and this little bird was a master shrimper. Fastidious too. After each catch, the black-belly would run to the water’s edge to rinse the ghost shrimp off before swallowing it whole.
Watch Me Pull a Ghost Shrimp Out of This Mudflat! A Black-bellied Plover “magician” extracts a ghost shrimp from its burrow at Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
As a photographer, these are the moments I shoot for. As a wildlife watcher, these little dramas starring avian predators and their cryptic prey open small windows into life beneath the surface. Considering the diversity of species and numbers of birds that make their livings pulling food from the earth, I get a sense of how alive the ground beneath our feet really is.
I knew, of course, that trees and plants had roots, stems, bark, branches and foliage that reached up toward the light. But I was coming to realize that the real magician was light itself.–Edward Steichen
Little Blue Heron with Green Tree Frog (Hyla cinerea), Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Hunting High. Recently I was stalking a Little Blue Heron as it worked its way through the vegetation at water’s edge, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park. The vast majority of the time, waders are looking down in their search for fish, amphibians and invertebrates. This time the bird was looking up, inspecting the plants as it went. I new what this meant, having seen it three or four times before at Elm Lake: The bird was after tree frogs! (Sidebar: sometimes waders act like this when they’re looking for dragonflies or spiders.) Interestingly, the water level in this part of the park seems to be down a bit from last year, and perhaps the tree frog hunt may be in response to this. Because I knew what was coming, I was able to get a nice series of shots documenting the bird eating four tree frogs.
Piping Plover with “Worm,” Bryan Beach, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Hunting at the surface. Cold weather fun can be had watching shorebirds pull infaunal invertebrates from tidal mudflats. Once in a while it’s a ghost shrimp or a crab, but often these meals are unidentifiable to me, and I just peg them as “worms.” I remember one of my professors on a rant about the term “worm” only being used out of a state of complete ignorance as many phyla of marine organisms could be lumped under that term. In this case, guilty as charged! Most of the time I have no idea what these little shorebirds are prying wriggling from the muck! It’s always exciting to watch, and every so often a bird grabs something big, nasty, and identifiable!
Hunting low. Perhaps the most suspenseful type of hunt to watch is one in which prey is sought from below the surface of the water. Sure, most of the time if you are in a freshwater environment, a small fish, tadpole, or larval invertebrate is plucked up, but sometimes really big prey items are dragged out thrashing and snapping. But turnabout is fair play. It’s not uncommon to see waders poking around in the shallows only to go running away squawking after having poked or prodded something really big, toothy and nasty like an alligator gar or . . . God knows what! And considering the beasties that swim beneath the waves of the salty seas, I marvel at the boldness of waders as they hunt in the marine shallows.
Willet with Mud Crab, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. This crab is likely the oystershell mud crab (Panopeus simpsoni), but I invite comments from anyone who knows better. These small crabs have an enlarged tooth on the moveable finger of the major chela (noted in some other images) and are common among the oyster reefs of the Gulf Coast, along with some other mud crab species. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Finally, one of my goals for this winter is to capture images of a Great Blue Heron grappling with a Siren intermedia. During winter, the place to look for these giant amphibians being dragged from their burrows is the edge of Pilant Lake just north of the observation tower. However, this year the terrain in this area looks very different from the recent past: It is drier and much overgrown. Fortunately, Pilant Slough just to the south and east looks very much like Pilant Lake has in recently past years. This occurred to me as I noted a Great Blue standing right in the middle of the slough. Clearly, this is the spot to watch for the siren hunt this year!
Perhaps, after all, America never has been discovered. I myself would say that it had merely been detected.—Oscar Wilde
Singing Eastern Meadowlark, lagoon near Bryan Beach, Texas. Eastern and Western Meadowlarks overlap in range along the Texas Gulf Coast in winter. Although sometimes difficult to tell apart, Eastern Meadowlarks tend to have crisper, bolder markings. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
My favorite bird photos document apparently undisturbed behavior. There is a big element of luck in obtaining such photos as birds tend to spook and stop whatever they’re doing by the time you’re close enough to get a decent shot. You can stack the odds a bit in your favor by modifying your own behavior. Wearing camouflage, making only slow, deliberate, and tangential movements can help. Also, pretending to ignore the bird and not making direct eye contact can squeeze a few extra feet from those all-important minimum approach distances.
Double Wing-fishing Young Reddish Egret, lagoon near Bryan Beach, Texas. Despite a cloudy morning, there was glare-aplenty . . . clearly a job for the underwing approach! Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The most fun to be had in bird photography is when the birds are so wrapped up in their world that they ignore you completely. Reddish Egrets, for example, will sometimes start running around willy-nilly in a hunting frenzy that alternates between a staggering postmodernist dance and underwing hunting. Raptors, however, seem to never zone out, and with their incredible senses always seem minutely aware of your every movement. They may continue doing their thing, but they clearly never forget that you are there.
Osprey with Fish, Bryan Beach, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Hand-held using truck as a blind. Had we opened a door, it would have been bye-bye birdie! Natural light.
On a different note, in between recent avian sightings, I’ve been working on macro technique, especially approaches to flash. Despite having a built-in diffuser, our Sigma macro ring flash (in many ways a piece of junk), which often works well on dull surfaces, tends to be too contrasty and produces excessively bright highlights on shiny surfaces. As a result, I’ve been experimenting with other set-ups, including Sto-Fen Omni-Bounce and Vello Softbox flash diffusers for our Canon 600EX-RT flashes. Reports to follow.
Bee on Aster, near Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS (+25mm extension tube II) and 600EX-RT flash (+Sto-Fen Omni-Bounce diffuser). High-speed synchronized flash. Hand-held.
Behavior is the mirror in which everyone shows their image.—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Young Pied-billed Grebe, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Birds this young utilize different hunting techniques than fully adult birds and show vestiges of their striped juvenile plumage. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Things are slow now. Along the Texas Gulf Coast, we are in a time of transition within a time of transition. Most of the songbirds have moved through, but we still await the big waves of waterfowl. Some wintering shorebirds have arrived including Long-billed Curlews, and Least and Spotted Sandpipers. Sandhill Cranes can occasionally be heard and seen overhead, and there are a few ducks paddling around here and there. The numbers of Blue-winged Teal are increasing, and a few Ring-necked Ducks are about. On the big plus side, everywhere we’ve gone over the past week or so was mercifully free of biting insects.
During such slow times I have to focus on more detailed observations of familiar species. Last weekend at Brazos Bend, for example, Pied-billed Grebes were visible in unusually large numbers. Small groups of three or four birds were scattered across Elm Lake. One cluster contained three adult birds and a youngster, shown above. The youngster hunted in a different fashion than the adults. It paddled around on the surface and dunked its head and neck below the surface to search for prey (rather like a loon!). As always, the adults settled into the surface of the water and then dove, reappearing a few seconds later. But big prey was not on the menu that day. I watched for an hour or so hoping to witness an epic battle with a big fish, frog, or crawfish, but I saw only insects being consumed.
A Lone Young Female Ring-necked Duck, east pond, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. A white ring on the bill has just started to appear. Gentle paddling produced a subtle wake of crescents. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
A visit to the drippers and environs at Lafitte’s Cove last week yielded few avian sightings. I spotted a few Ruby-crowned Kinglets, a Pine Warbler or two, and a few Northern Mockingbirds. The ponds were nearly as unproductive. I noted Mottled Ducks and a single Ring-necked Duck, and I played hide-and-seek with a deeply distrustful Marsh Wren.
Spotted Sandpiper in Non-breeding Plumage, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Frenchtown Road, Bolivar yielded a lone Spotted Sandpiper that strutted and posed along the remains of a floating wrecked wooden structure for an extended photo shoot. Overall, I saw the usual mix of winter waders and shorebirds, including a bathing Long-billed Curlew. Again, nothing unusual. Come on birds! Where are all you oddballs?
Widow’s tears (Commelina sp.), Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. In fall, widow’s tears bloom only in the morning. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro (+25mm extension tube II). High-speed synchronized ring-flash.
When no birds were to be seen (and this was most of the time), I turned my lenses on insects and flowers. Elm Lake was ablaze with brilliant yellow Bidens aurea. I am still experimenting with my new 25mm extension tube. This week I discovered the arthropod macrophotography of Thomas Shahan, an Oklahoma artist who has been getting extraordinary results with some rather modest equipment—clearly an impetus to up my own macro game. I even ordered a few new minor gadgets to help out with macro. Overall, I am still waiting for something weird to happen . . . .
Variegated Meadowhawk (Sympetrum corruptum), Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Lafitte’s Cove is almost as good for dragonflies as it is for migrating birds. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Nelson’s Sharp-tailed Sparrow, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. This bird was moving through seed-laden grasses with a group of Seaside Sparrows. Photo taken at about 7:30 am under a beautiful golden fall light. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4 TC).
Last weekend we birded High Island (Boy Scout Woods), Bolivar Flats, and Frenchtown Road. Frenchtown Road is an exceptional spot, and almost always the highlight of any Bolivar trip. It is a great spot for Clapper Rails, Whimbrel, and waders and shorebirds hunting prey, especially crustaceans. But, (rather unexpectedly) grass seed-head-chomping Nelson’s Sharp-tailed Sparrows were the highlight of this visit. Nelson’s Sharp-tailed Sparrows breed mostly in Canada, winter along the Gulf Coast, and are not a common sight in Texas—at least not where we usually bird.
Rufous-crowned Sparrow on Mountain Laurel, Lost Maples State Natural Area, Texas. This bird was spotted on the way to find Golden-cheeked Warblers, which we found a few minutes later. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Sparrows, in general, may be the least appreciated of birds, and I myself am often guilty of not affording them the respect they deserve. It’s rare for us to plan a trip around sparrows. This is despite their ecological importance and often beautiful earth-tone color schemes. We usually have more glamorous species in mind, like the rock stars of the birding world, the wood warblers when we plan birding trips. I spotted the the Rufous-crowned Sparrow above, for example, on a Central Texas trip centered around finding Golden-cheeked Warblers. Of course, It wouldn’t have hurt our feeling to have spotted Black-capped Vireos, too.
In my own defense, though, we do make an annual pilgrimage to Barfoot Park, in the Coronado National Forest, Arizona to see Yellow-eyed Juncos, an American Sparrow you’re not going to find by accident. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings to see a few Hepatic Tanagers while we’re there . . . .
Not Rare, but Secretive: Grasshopper Sparrow, Galveston Island State Park, Texas. Grasshopper Sparrows get their name from the grasshopper-like sounds they make. They’re not a sparrow one sees every day in this part of the world. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
I don’t believe in accidents. There are only encounters in history. There are no accidents.—Pablo Picasso
