Striated Caracara: Steeple Jason Island, Falklands

Canon 7D, 17-40f4L @ 40mm, 1/400th sec/ f10, ISO 200, handheld while laying on the ground

Steeple Jason Island, as well as being home to the largest colony of seabirds in the western hemisphere, is also home to numerous pairs of Striated Caracaras. These birds are exceedingly bold. Living on islands as they do, without any predators, they are accustomed to being the top of the food chain. They are quite unwilling to allow something as inconsequential as humans to change that. Striated Caracaras are scavengers for the most part, but also prey upon penguin and other seabird chicks when the opportunity arises. It is their scavenger nature that makes them most interesting from a photographic perspective. Let me tell you the story:

This bird, and two others, were scratching around in the dirt and heather, taking occasional dust-baths when I and a group of clients walked up. Now tourism etiquette in the southern ocean requires that we don't approach an animal closer than 15 feet. Of course the animals themselves are under no such restrictions and are perfectly allowed to approach you. When I saw these birds, I laid down on the ground to snap a few low-angle portraits with my 500mm. I didn't get to snap a shot, because as soon as I laid down this bird looked at me and bounded straight over. There I was, on my stomach, with a large, endangered, and highly photogenic raptor about a foot away, with a 500mm lens on my camera. It couldn't have been more worthless for the situation. So I decided to just enjoy the moment and watch. The Caracara hopped about, I slowly sat up, it came over and eyed my foot, wondering surely if I was yet dead enough to eat. Eventually, I could take it no longer and slowly removed my camera backpack, unzipped it and pulled out the 17-40. Every movement I made the bird became less sure I was about to die. I was certain that before I managed to get the lens on the camera that the caracara would decide I was too alive to consume and fly off, it's head down in disappointment.

Gratefully, my slow and occasionally jerky movements perhaps resembled death throes and I was able to get the lens on while not losing the bird's interest. I snapped a few from a sitting position before lowering myself again to the ground for this low angle, wide perspective of the Caracara on the rock with the mountains of Steeple Jason in the background.

I managed to snap off a few shots before the poor bird realized that this clicking, breathing, and occasionally brightly-flashing human was not, in fact, food. Finally it did arrive at the truth and flew off to look for something a bit closer to death.

Sorry to disappoint.

The Southern Ocean: Steeple Jason Island, Falklands

Canon 7D, 500mm f4L, handheld from the deck of the ship, 1/1250 sec, f8, ISO 200

OK, Alright, I know, I know. It's been awhile since I posted. But I've got an excuse that pardons me at least for most of January. I've been away from the computer for a bit, on a ship, cruising around the Southern Ocean. But, now that I'm back, my hiatus ends here, with this image of Steeple Jason Island, in the Falklands.

(Quick background for new readers or those who don't remember back a few posts when I alluded to this trip: For about month from late Dec to late Jan, I was working as a naturalist/photo guide on a Cheesemans' Ecology Safaris trip to the Southern Ocean. I was one of 14 expedition staff.)

I think I've been putting off posting, despite being back for a week, because I hardly know where to begin. My head is still spinning from the trip, though now more like a wobbling top, than the centrifuge it was a few day ago. My thoughts, and my images from the trip are starting to come together, and I'm ready to start posting...I think.

I wanted to present a written narrative to the trip, but really there was just too much. Images, for the most part, will have to play that roll. (Eventually, the log I wrote for Cheesemans' will be posted on their website and I'll link to it in a future post.)

For the next few entries I'll be featuring shots from the Falkland Islands. We spent three remarkable days exploring the archipelago. It is a wonderful place, full of rugged islands, remote beaches, and seabird colonies. Steeple Jason Island, where this image was made is by far my favorite of our stops, and perhaps one of my favorite places of the trip. 115,000 pairs of Black-browed Albatross nest on the island making it the largest seabird colony in the western hemisphere. It is a landscape of birds.

The image here was made from the deck of the Polar Star, our ship. The sun was just up, the sea haze was defining the ribs of rock on the shoreline, and Black-browed Albatross by the hundreds or thousands were patrolling the sky and water surrounding the island. For a few minutes it was magical. Then the sun rose a bit more, burnt off the sea haze, and the moment was over.

Luckily, the day was just beginning. More on that in the next post.

Another Moose Image

Canon 7D, 70-200 f2.8L IS @ 200mm, 1/100th sec, f2.8, ISO 800, +.25 Exposure Compensation

I mean really, can you actually have too many images of a moose?

This is another from the series made a while back. It is a bit different perspective, though I was still trying to tell the same story as the image I previously posted. In short: Moose live in dense brush and are surprisingly hidden for huge animals. I also like the clearly winter aspect of the scene. One thing I prefer about this image is that the animal is not facing me directly. In wildlife photography, a little eye contact can create some visual tension which is good, but what it means is that the animal was aware of you, and more importantly, paying attention to you. That, is not good. In the previous image, I was a obtrusive and influencing the animal's natural behavior which is generally to be avoided. This image shows the moose paying me no mind, merely looking around its habitat (at the other moose that was there actually). In this shot, there is no evidence aside from the image itself that I was even there. Wildlife photographers should be that way, invisible except for our vision of the scene.

Yard Moose

Canon 7D, 70-200f2.8L IS @ 200mm, handheld, 1/40th, f2.8, ISO 800.

It even looks like winter now. Over the past couple of days 4 or 5 inches of snow have fallen and more is coming down outside as I type this. With winter comes some difficulties, the roads get nasty, my driveway becomes an utter disaster, but it is also remarkably beautiful. The spruces become coated with a thick layer of snow, and things start to look, well, Christmasy... In Fairbanks and much of Alaska, the stereotype of Christmas is the reality for much of the long winter. That stasis makes the beauty hard to appreciate, so it is the seasons of change, like right now, when I am most enthralled.

I photographed this moose on my property this morning. I live on ten acres and through the lower section of the property a small creek flows (or ices over depending on the season). The valley is used as a corridor for all kinds of animals. There were fox tracks all over the driveway this morning and a pair of moose tracks as well. They were fresh, and sure enough, as I was heading out, there they were, two cow moose, grazing unconcernedly on the willows. I grabbed my camera and made a few images. The light was just getting bright enough and the moose were cooperative, even with the 70-200 I was able to easily get frame-filling images. I like this image the best because it says something about the animal. Moose spend a lot of time in dense brush, and despite their enormous size (1000lbs or more) they often seem invisible. Trying to portray that, and still get a tight shot, I framed through a window of spruce boughs. This is not an image I thought long and hard about, but I know a bit about moose and the decision for how to compose was an easy one. I have some other frames from the morning I'll try to post in the next few days to show some alternatives. Wildlife photography happens on the fly and knowing something about the subject before you start shooting will help you work more quickly and with better results.

Return of the Winter Birds

Canon 7D, 500mm f4L IS, Tripod mounted, 1/80th @ f5.6, ISO 800.

I mentioned a few days back how, now that winter is arriving, the light is long and sweet for most of the daylight hours. Well its true, but in exchange, we have many fewer hours of light. In fact today we declined down to 8 hours and 28 minutes of possible sunlight, a loss of about 6 and half minutes over yesterday. But that is all beside the point. Yesterday I took advantage of the last hour of daylight to shoot the birds around our feeders. I've been trying for awhile to get a really excellent image of a Boreal Chickadee, but I still haven't attained it. The one above is fine, but not much more than that. Getting the perfect image takes a lot of time and effort, and I'll be working on this one for awhile. I think part of the problem is that I'm having a hard time visualizing exactly what I want from the image. This part of the creative process of photography that is most difficult for me. Determining what I want before I go out and try to get it. It is best to have some idea of the story you want to tell. In this case, I want to say something about the bird, its natural history and habitat, its ability to survive the cold. The image above does none of those things. Rather is a simple portrait, eating a sunflower seed no less. Hardly a natural food source here in Fairbanks.

My point in all this rambling is to think about your photos before you go out and try to make them. Ask yourself what story you want to tell and then think hard about what image will tell that story, then work to make the image. I'm still struggling with this myself.

Iconic Images and Boredom

Canon 40d, 70-200mm f2.8 L, at 155mm
1/400th sec, f4.0, ISO 100.

I'm not sure who made this image first. Not this exact image, of course, I made this one. But I'm referring to the original. The first of the iconic "Bear catching salmon" shots. I think every serious photographer who has visited Brooks Camp in Katmai National Park has some rendition of this photo. And I'm confused by that.

Why is it that we struggle to imitate the classic images of the places we visit? In Denali, its Mt. McKinley over Wonder Lake from Ansel Adams Point, or Denali in Reflection Pond. Both of those standards were, of course, set by Adams himself. There are the Tetons with the Snake River, and the Grand Canyon from the South Rim, Monument Valley from the East, and of course Katmai Brown Bear catching salmon in the air at Brooks Falls.

When I made this image, I was standing next to another photographer, a teched-out fella who rolled up to the viewing platform dragging two suitcases loaded with gear, took over a good portion of the upper level with his cases and then bull-dogged his way into the prime viewing spot to set up, pushing tourists aside with flying elbows as he passed. When I found my way next to him I cracked some joke about making the salmon jumping/bear catching image and how strange it is we all want that image. He replied with braggadocio, "I'VE got more than a dozen!". Wow, I thought, not only is he an ass, but he's a boring ass as well.

But why is it that we want those images? We tick them off like some kind of photo-destination checklist. And I do it too. I've got the shot of Denali from Reflection Pond and the Grand Canyon and now the bear and salmon from Katmai. These images aren't marketable, there are thousands of them already out there with stock agencies, and publishers have seen the image so many times they are bored. Rightfully so too. Of the hundreds of images of bears I have from Katmai, this isn't my favorite. I like it OK, but I like it because it gets a rise from viewers. It always gets a wow, or a gasp. I think it gets this response because they've seen the image before and think it must take some great skill to get it. Trust me it doesn't. It's damn easy in fact. Set up your tripod, adjust exposure, compose, and shoot when the salmon jumps. Click, click, click. Done. No long glass required. This, as you can see in the photo information above was only at 155mm. But its what people think it takes that matters. Ah yes, the magic of photography.

I suppose we try for these shots because someone else did the thinking for us. We didn't have to come up with the composition on our own, we just had to frame and execute. Same with the great landscape shots, we just copy and click. This of course, is also why none of the copies are as good as the original. I know quite well that this is far from the best image made of of a Katmai Bear and its prey. The light ain't that great, the sharpness isn't exactly perfect, there is some motion blur... Like a tape that has been copied a dozen times, it doesn't retain the same depth or freshness of the original. Still, I'm glad I've got it. It gets the "wow"s at slideshows, and makes everyone think I must be some kind of expert. And I'm happy to perpetuate that particular myth.

OK- Bird Photography

Beware! The following is a long, opinionated, and possibly blatantly wrong series of thoughts on the art of bird photography.

Arthur Morris. There you go. That name says a lot about the current state of bird photography. Artie, as he calls himself, is an extremely talented photographer who has made his reputation with his own “brand” of imagery. His trademark is close shots, often portraiture, of wild birds in low angle, over the shoulder light. Very sharp with clean even backgrounds. It is stylish and simple. It WAS a distinctive look. I emphasize the word WAS because Artie’s work has become so synonymous with good bird photography that it seems every photographer shooting birds is doing their damnedest to imitate his style. Close. Sharp. Clean. As a result (and this is where my opinion rears its ugly head) run of the mill bird photography has become very, very, boring. The birds are beautiful and photographed in nice light they are usually in profile (ideally with the head turned 15 degrees toward the camera). The images are technically perfect and they all look exactly the same.

This striving for the “ideal” shot has led to a remarkable reliance on Photoshop. The program is used to clone out distracting elements (even very minor ones), to clean up non-uniform backgrounds, to remove unwanted parts of the image (other birds, evidence of humans, etc.), and even, in the more extreme cases, to replace parts of the bird that are not shown in ideal conditions with parts from other images. Thus it is possible to find shots of birds where a closed eye has been replaced by an open eye from the next photo in the series. A clipped wing may be replaced with one copied from the opposite side, feathers re-arranged, dirt removed from bills, feet placed in more aesthetically pleasing positions… WHERE DOES IT STOP?

At what point have we stopped portraying nature as it is and turned it into what we want it to be? I don’t think this is just a philosophical question. Nature photography has been criticized in the past for portraying nature as an ideal and not as reality. The late, great Galen Rowell received a scathing critique from an art critic who said that he was misleading the public through use of “colored filters” to believe that nature was a bright and colorful place when in fact it was mostly, brown, green, and gray. That critic was obviously wrong and I pity them for having spent so little time outside not to have seen the colors the world can produce. But if Galen’s true to life images could give that impression, what would that critic say about the kind of manipulations now common in bird photography?

But Dave, you say, we are talking about art not reality. In which case I say “touché…BUT…” photography is different. I’m sorry, but it just is. People, the viewing public, look at photography very differently from other forms of art. People BELIEVE photography in a way they don’t with other art forms. And when it comes to nature photography, well, I think nature should be appreciated in all its diverse forms, and our images should represent this, not just showing all the rare moments when our avian subjects appear in perfect light with clean backgrounds with their bills pointing exactly 15 degrees off of perpendicular. OK that was an off-subject tangent. My point is not that bird photography shouldn’t be viewed as art, but rather that bird photography shouldn’t all look the same.

The strange part is that I think many bird photographers recognize this in their gut. Because when the rare image appears on the Bird Photographer’s Network that has truly broken away from the formula like this one HERE. It gets rave reviews. Others, that I think are rather stunning with hidden textures and surprises like this one HERE, get notably mixed reviews because, in the eyes of many photographers, the image is close enough to being “correct” that it is wrong.

Now, after I wrote all this, I must acknowledge that I do love a good clean bird photo. These shots are easy to appreciate, and given the right situation and equipment are technically easy to execute. They illustrate the written word very well, but they are rarely memorable. The simple, the clean and sharp, may be the bread and butter of the wildlife photographer, but it should never be the only images made. As photographers we must remember to expand our vision beyond the normal. It is outside of the norm where we will find the truly exceptional.

Rant over.

More backyard photos

I'm not in much of a mood to write today so instead thought I'd share a few images from this afternoon, shooting birds at the feeders. Needless to say there isn't a whole lot of variety in terms of species, but the light is getting nice and I've been enjoying standing out in the snow making images.

Common Redpoll. These guys are visiting in droves and devouring about two pounds of sunflower chips a day.

Boreal Chickadee. These are fairly common around the house and a few visit the feeders each day. They've got a thing for peanut butter.

Gray Jay. A family group has been visiting daily. They are something of bullies, scare the other birds off and the then proceed to devour whatever isn't bolted down. You can see some unmentionable disappearing down the gullet of this fella.

Black-capped Chickadee. Everyone's favorite. I had a friend a few year ago who used to say "If Chickadees were as big as Jays, no one would go into the woods." I think there is some truth to that.

Another Common Redpoll. Like I said, they are common.

No real secret to the images. They were all made with my 500mm f4 and Canon 40D. Tripod mounted using my Whimberly Sidekick Gimbal-type adapter.

Hopefully, I'll be feeling a bit more like writing tomorrow.