With me a change of trouble is as good as a vacation. –David Lloyd George
“Hear ye! Hear ye! The Two Shutterbirds are pooped!” Laughing Gull, Surfside Jetty Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
It has been a grueling year! As a result, we’ll be taking a few days off—from everything! No worries, though, in a few days we’ll be back on the ball bringing you some of our favorite images of the plants and animals of Texas and beyond that we love so well (maybe with a little tart social commentary thrown in for laughs). See you soon! Chris and Elisa
Purple Coneflower (Echinacea sp.), Central Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. High-speed synchronized macro ring flash.
Love me or hate me, both are in my favor . . . If you love me, I’ll always be in your heart . . . If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind.—unknown (often falsely attributed to William Shakespeare)
Female Cerulean Warbler on Oak Branch, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Despite having developed a love-hate relationship with the place, over the past month or so we’ve taken every opportunity to get down to Lafitte’s Cove for the spring migration. On a good day, this sanctuary is hard to beat, but getting there has become oppressive, and once there, the crowds can make functioning as a wildlife photographer next to impossible. Tour groups have begun to show up at Lafitte’s Cove, and with mobs of twenty-plus people ambling down narrow paths you’re not getting much work done.
Blackburnian Warbler, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. This little bird was about half-starved from its recent trans-Gulf flight. As we watched, it stumbled around feverishly in the vegetation gobbling up as many caterpillars as it could find. At one point, it even lost its balance and tumbled from a branch! Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
The love: On April 9, we visited Lafitte’s Cove and saw American Redstart, Black and White, Hooded, Kentucky, Blue-winged, and Worm-eating Warblers along with Scarlet and Summer Tanagers, Blue and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Indigo Buntings, and White-eyed and Red-eyed Vireos. Thrushes were common: We saw and identified the Veery and Wood Thrush, although Swainson’s Thrushes were also likely present. These recent encounters revealed a truth: Thrushes (along with Ovenbirds) represent a photographic challenge I’ve not yet mastered. Birds of this sort hop around and probe for food in nooks and crannies of the the dark understory and, at best, appear in broken light only . . . They are tough subjects.
Veery Gloomy, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
April 23 was a good day at the Cove. We saw many birds including Golden-winged, Blue-winged, Worm-eating, and Blackburnian Warblers. Summer and Scarlet Tanagers, and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks were also around. The following morning was a bust, though. The sky was a blown-out white, and the birds were in hiding. At one point, a Golden-winged and Blackburnian Warbler flew right over my head, but disappeared immediately into the brush and sky, respectively, never to be seen again . . . .
Shadow Dweller: Wood Thrush, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
The hate: Construction on I-45 between Houston and Galveston has been going on at least since the early 90’s when I arrived in Texas. Construction is now permanent and creates catastrophic, hellish traffic jams from which there is no escape.
On our last trip back (April 24) from Lafitte’s Cove, I noticed a sign that read: HIGHWAY CLOSED AHEAD. It took a minute for that to sink in. It’s simply not possible to close I-45 without warning, is it? It would be apocalyptic. We had just traveled the same highway south a few hours before, and there was no indication of impending doom. In a matter of minutes we were in a sea of bumper-to-bumper traffic that stretched as far as the eye could see. Luckily we just barely managed to exit, and with Elisa deftly navigating with her smart phone we found ourselves on side streets (also jammed with cars). At one point I glanced up to find I was crossing Kobayashi Road. My mind reeled. Apparently I was about to face my own Kobayashi Maru scenario. Looking both ways for Klingon battle cruisers, I drove on . . . . .
Despite being only 45 miles from our house, the only solution to the current Lafitte’s Cove logistics nightmare, I fear, is to treat the sanctuary as if were a far-away destination. We must drive down in the wee hours, book a room for a few days (at inflated Galveston prices), and then drive back in the wee hours. Expletive deleted.
White-eyed Vireo, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Their beautiful lilting song gives away the presence of White-eyed Vireos. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4 TC). Natural light.
Contrived durability is a strategy of shortening the product lifetime before it is released onto the market, by designing it to deteriorate quickly. The design of all consumer products includes an expected average lifetime permeating all stages of development. Thus, it must be decided early in the design of a complex product how long it is designed to last so that each component can be made to those specifications.–Planned Obsolescence, Wikipedia
Bonaparte’s Gull (Nonbreeding), Surfside Jetty Park, Texas. Despite the recent death of our old friend, the big desktop iMac, we have birded the coast, photographed some birds, and even processed some images (albeit on our dinky field laptop). Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Last week our big, beautiful iMac computer passed away. In the middle of the night, funny orange dashes appeared across the screen. When I rebooted, blue stripes appeared and then faded to bright white. A few quick looks around the internet led to a few attempts to revive, but in my heart I knew . . . it was over. This was our bird photography computer . . . .
A day or two later I took the lifeless hulk to the Apple Store Genius Bar so a technician could have a look. Sure enough, the video card had croaked. But then the technician kept talking (but not smiling) . . . He said that because the machine is over five years old (it was built in late 2009 by Chinese paupers and bought by us in early 2010), it is considered a vintage machine and Apple Stores will no longer service it. He said that even if he wanted to, he couldn’t work on such a machine because after five years the Apple stores ship all the replacement parts back to corporate.
Five years. Five years! After five years, a multi-thousand-dollar machine will not be serviced by its manufacturer. Sure, I could find a third party operation that might be able to fix it with “old” spare parts, but that’s a big “if.” Wow. Luckily we had ordered a replacement the night before. It will take ten days to arrive.
So, if you are planning to buy an Apple computer to service your bird photography addiction, then start saving for its replacement now. They cost about $3k and last about five years. Period.
California Brown Pelican, About to Dive, lagoon behind Bryan Beach, Texas. This bird fished far out in the lagoons with a group of other pelicans bearing Atlantic/Gulf of Mexico markings (blackish-green rather than red throat-pouches). Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Art: The little lights . . . they aren’t twinkling. Clark: I know, Art. Thanks for noticing.—National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation
Pyrrhuloxia:Christmas is the season of giving. Give me fruit! Franklin Mountains State Park, West Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The Two Shutterbirds wish all of our birding and naturalist friends a very merry holiday season! May the new year bring you birds you’ve never seen before! Chris and Elisa
Painted Redstart, Cave Creek Canyon, Arizona. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Skeptical Male Northern Cardinal, Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge, Rio Grande Valley, Texas. Photo taken on Christmas Day, 2010. Canon EOS 50D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Two Shutterbirds wishes all our birding and naturalist friends the happiest of holiday seasons! Cheers! Chris and Elisa
The acrid scents of autumn,
Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear.–D. H. Lawrence, Dolor of Autumn, 1916
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 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 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.
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. 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 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 Lesser Yellowlegs, lagoon near Bryan Beach, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
The story as told in The Odyssey doesn’t hold water. There are too many inconsistencies.–Margaret Atwood
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, 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.
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.
Female Northern Flicker (Red-shafted Form), MacGregor Mountain Lodge, Colorado. Elisa has visited this wonderful lodge before, but this was my first stay. The surrounding grounds are a wonderland of cavity-nesting. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
For me, birding has been a refuge and salvation from the trials and tribulations of life. In today’s world, though, a simple commercial flight to a birding destination can be a trial, too. On the return flight from our last birding trip to Colorado, for example, United Airlines temporarily lost one of our big suitcases . . . .
Now, normally a lost suitcase would not be a big deal, but in this particular case the bag contained two carbon fiber tripods and gimbal mounts, and pair of binoculars–about $3500 worth of equipment that we use all the time and couldn’t just replace at Walmart. The quest to retrieve the bag started out ominously: The United Airlines guy who is in charge of finding lost suitcases at the Houston International Airport told me it was “pointless” to look for our suitcase! Pointless!
Getting the suitcase back turned out to be even more of a headache that one would imagine because United Airlines handed the recovery of the bag over to another company (WheresMySuitcase.com), that in turn handed it over to yet another company!
Neither of these other two companies had working telephone numbers, or (apparently) any employees who could read, write, tell time, or operate a telephone or computer. One of the people we had to talk to in the course of this adventure was in India! One of the phone numbers we were given by United to reach one of the other companies (who can remember which?) turned out to belong to a scooter store! I couldn’t make this stuff up!
After navigating a web of nuttiness we eventually got the bag back–with a TSA inspection tag inside . . . Now, what does any of this diatribe have to do with birding from lodges?
Curve-billed Thrasher, Cave Creek Ranch, Portal, Arizona. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Simple. The lodges from which we bird tend to be owned and operated by individuals, mom and pop teams, or at worst, small companies. The owners/operators live in the area, and many of them really know the local birds and where to find them. They care if you come back! They care about what you say to your friends about the place! It’s nothing short of great and a huge break from corporate America and its legions of know-nothings.
Over the years we have found a few really neat, highly recommendable lodges. The three that spring to mind are Cave Creek Ranch (Arizona), Casa Santa Ana (Rio Grande Valley), and my new discovery, MacGregor Mountain Lodge. What they all have in common is extensive grounds to bird and proximity to fabulous parks. Sometimes you have to stay in the run-of-the-mill corporate-owned accommodations (unless the global economy collapses, my camping days are over!), but it’s usually really worth the extra effort to seek out a lodge from which to bird.
Although the whole missing bag thing really stressed me out, I’m trying hard to take something positive from the story. Perhaps a deeper consideration of the problem of supertelephoto lenses and airlines that continues to plague wildlife photographers will lead to a solution. One possibility I’ve been considering it shipping the tripods and mounts to the lodges. Statistically, UPS and Fedex are far more dependable than the airlines at handling packages. I know that many photo-birders have simply given up on airline travel with big glass, but If any readers have solved the airline problem, I and many others, would love to hear about it!
Hooded Oriole, Casa Santa Ana, Rio Grande Valley, South Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
These are the good old days. In a situation that’s constantly deteriorating, it’s always the good old days.—Chris Cunningham (paraphrase of J. Phillips)
Young Scaled Quail Pair, Franklin Mountains State Park, West Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
As I look out my front window at the giant piles of uncollected debris from the recent flood in southwest Houston, I got to thinking about quails . . . .
Many wildlife biologists are concerned about populations of all six types of North American quails. Numbers of individuals of dry-adapted species of quails such as Montezuma, Gambel’s and Scaled, rise and fall with drought and rainy years as expected, but these concerns transcend impacts due to changes in the weather.
For example, in the Southwest biologists have been noticing incursions of scrub-inhabiting quails into the suburban landscape, presumably foraging for food. The sprawl of tract housing and all that accompanies it means that the “empty” expanses of desert and scrublands are dwindling and our lovely xeric creatures are under pressure.
So, what’s the connection between giant piles of uncollected garbage and quails? Well, it seems to me that humanity can have any world it wants. Man has elected to live in a world of materialistic clutter, jammed with ephemeral consumer trash soon to be in a landfill. For this we are giving away (say exterminating) nature and paving over the land.
To alter this course will require nothing less than a new great awakening . . . .
Female Gambel’s Quail, Franklin Mountains State Park, West Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Redhead Drake at the “Freshwater Channel,” Hans and Pat Suter City Nature Park, Corpus Christi, Texas. This park is one of the best places on the Coastal Bend to see waterfowl, and the evening light can be spectacular. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Over a three-day period this Thanksgiving Holiday we visited a number of our favorite Coastal Bend birding haunts in and around Port Aransas and Corpus Christi. These included Paradise Pond, the Leonabelle Turnbull Birding Center, the Nature Sanctuary at Charlie’s Pasture (all Mustang Island), and San José Island, and the Hans and Pat Suter City Wildlife Nature Park in Corpus Christi. And yes, when it was over we were wiped out!
All of these sites were flush with birds, except San José Island which proved to be such a disappointment that we found ourselves photographing crabs! With the exception of San José, all of these sites are really better for birding than for bird photography for one simple reason: Narrow boardwalks make tripods problematic, especially when other birders are present.
Hooded Merganser Hen, Paradise Pond, Port Aransas, Mustang Island, Texas. This bird was perhaps the most co-operative merganser I have ever seen. In the past, be they Hooded, Common, or Red-Breasted, Mergansers have quickly retreated upon our approach. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Highlights of these late Fall and early winter trips to the Coastal Bend are often the waterfowl. You just can’t beat a crisp morning with formations of ducks and geese overhead and wet, feathered-friends paddling peacefully around the waterways. Although we saw plenty of ducks and geese, seeing vast tracts of prairie and wetland without a single bird (and often hearing the crack of gunfire in the background) got me wondering about duck populations in North America.
A quick survey of a recently published U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service report reassured that duck numbers are (in general) large by “historical” standards. This report presented data but provided little analysis or discussion. Overall, a few duck species are down relative to recent years, but the total number of ducks is close to 50 million. So humans must not be adversely affecting waterfowl populations, right?
Wait! The above cited historical quantitative records of duck numbers begin in 1955. The 1930’s (think Dust Bowl), 40’s, and 50’s were times of drought across North America. Could it be that our concept of how many waterfowl there “should be” in wetter times is too low? Again according to the report, some duck species (Northern Shoveler, Redhead, Blue-winged and Green-winged Teal, and Gadwall) show a steady increase in numbers, with minor ups and downs, beginning in the mid-1950’s—perhaps indicating a recovery from a time of ecological decimation? Given the interplay of anthropogenic, meteorological, and ecological influences, we’ll never know for sure what waterfowl populations would look like without the pervasive human impacts of the past fifty years. But in North American waterfowl numbers there is certainly food for thought.
Green-winged Teal Hen, Leonabelle Turnbull Birding Center, Port Aransas, Mustang Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The fallacy of presentism is a complex anachronism, in which the antecedent in a narrative series is falsified by being defined or interpreted in terms of the consequent.—David Hackett Fischer, Historians’ Fallacies
Poets say science takes away from the beauty of the stars – mere globs of gas atoms. I, too, can see the stars on a desert night, and feel them. But do I see less or more?—Richard P. Feynman
Male Costa’s Hummingbird at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Aviary bird. The Tucson area is near the eastern extremity of this hummingbird’s summer breeding range. From many angles his gorget appears blackish, but during courtship the male Costa’s is sure to direct brilliant violet rays toward potential mates! Canon EOS 7D/100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS. Hand-held, high-speed synchronized fill-flash.
The Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum is an interesting and highly recommended institution nestled within Saguaro National Park. Composed of zoo, botanical garden, nature park, wildlife refuge, and natural history museum, the 21-acre campus blends into the surrounding Sonoran Desert. Some animals are free to come and go as they please, and others are captive.
According to museum literature, the hummingbird aviary contains up to seven species. On the day we visited it contained only four: Anna’s, Costa’s, Black-chinned, and Broad-billed. Because Black-chinned and Broad-billed are common in the areas we bird, we focused our attention primarily on Anna’s and Costa’s.
Male Anna’s Hummingbird at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Aviary bird. Canon EOS 7D/300mm f/4L IS. Natural light.
The covered aviary made for a weird, muted light in which it was difficult to capture the iridescent colors of male humming bird gorgets. Because these colors are the result of the physical optics of the feathers, not pigmentation, getting the colors to show well depends on the spatial relationship between light source(s), bird, and camera. On the whole, shooting hummingbirds in the aviary was a bit unsettling: We are used to hummers being will-o’-the-wisps, and free to wander.
Quizzical Verdin on Desert Willow at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Wild bird. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
We also saw a variety of wild desert birds. Cactus Wrens and White-winged Doves were the most common and were seen singing on saguaros and other plants. Verdin, Phainopepla, and Gila Woodpeckers were also about. Some Ash-throated Flycatchers and Gambel’s Quail made brief appearances.
Gila Woodpecker on Saguaro at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Wild bird. Gila Woodpeckers nest in cavities excavated within saguaros. Many woodpeckers were raising families while we visited the Southwest, and we often saw parents bringing fruit and insects home to young. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum also boasts an impressive assortment of desert plants. A number of species were in bloom including fishhook barrel cactus, red yucca, a variety of legumes, and the spectacular red bird-of-paradise (Caesalpinia pulcherrina), a naturalized native of the Neotropics. Some saguaros were in bloom, but coming to the end of their flowering season.
Fishhook Barrel Cactus(Ferocactus sp. ) flowers at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS macro. Hand-held, high-speed synchronized ring-flash.
Our visit to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum brought up many philosophical issues about the place of nature in a human-dominated landscape. We have hinted at some of these issues before, but Elisa hopes to explore them more deeply in future writings.
