A shorter long lens
Why a shorter lens is sometimes better than a longer one.
I made a bit of an error. I purchased a long lens last year (a 150-600mm) and was so impressed that I discarded my short telephoto (a 70-350mm) like Woody in Toy Story. I don't wanna play with you anymore... I wasn't going to need that - now I have serious kit. Photography became serious business. Hauling out the big lens when I wanted to chase birds - arising early in the morning or in the late Summer evening. The additional reach was tremendous. More zoom and increased distance between self and subject. Being twice as far away made the birds less skittish. More birds stuck around, more opportunities arose and the pictures were better.
The cost? Carrying an item akin to a bag of sugar out whenever I wanted to take photos. The perspiration from the increased weight in the blazing sun, deflecting the occasional "that's a big lens" comments and even the lack of a bag to fit both lens and camera attached together. The shorter kit lenses didn't do it for me either. Not enough reach for occasional birds, and not enough color in the images. Over the course of a year, the new lens pushed photography into a bucket where it had to be prime conditions to shoot. The initial enthusiasm and vigor early on waned and priorities shifted - chairs needed building, work got busy and drawing became fun.
My opportunistic photography plummeted. No taking the camera out on family trips to Santa Cruz. That meant missed frames from little corners of daily life. The lady launching bubbles across the ocean, producing amorphous forms and color backdropped by the ocean. And the one Tree Swallow among the acrobatic others who decided to take a break and perch on a bare branch, displaying oh so dainty feet. Sure we can't capture them all, but we can at least give ourselves a chance. I rebought that shorter telephoto. It's now sitting next to me in the garden as I write this note. I'm hoping the Robins or Phoebes will show up and I can begin clawing back the old photography spirit.
Backyard birding and schools out excitement
The backyard birds get out of hand at the start of Summer.
Finches, Juncos, White-Crowned's, Goldfinch! It's gone nuts this Saturday morning. Must be the schools out excitement. Finches can’t decide whether to go for the plums or peck the webs of our shelter. Whack! Two juveniles clip our back window as their horse-play gets out of hand. The adult Song Sparrow perched on our pear tree is not impressed. A tinking Towhee joins the fun - though I can't see them from my position at the table. A Phoebe flutters out of a fly-catching ark by my monkey flower. Sweeping from tree to lawn she tries again. (Interesting I've never really seen fly-catching behavior above grass, only bodies of water. Our lawn is a rich hive of insects though.) She looks odd. Sporting a bandage of white above her eyes. Our hummingbirds are here too, whizzing from the tall plum tree. A Buicks Wren scampers along the fence, twitching and scowling all the way.
Cooper’s Hawks and the shit on the street
A messy clue to the home of a Cooper’s Hawk.
WUUUUuuummphhh…eee, eee! A Cooper's Hawk, barreled a foot over my head, whipped down the redwood lined road and dog legged towards a crow. One of two resident Cooper's who now live in the tech park. They made noise when they moved in, charging to the top of a tree and driving another hawk out of town. Evidence built since then that at least one was living full time in the area. I'd occasionally see a tail feather scoot into the heart of a tree or drift up onto a bare branch with a ground squirrel.
I could never figure out how many there were, then it all came together. A mass of feathers steamed down to the ground, followed by a tumultuous squeak of an Anna's. The Cooper's acrobatically landed back up on the branch of a redwood tree. I finally saw the pair of them. The tiny male lower down who just spooked the Anna's and much higher up the larger female. My studying was rudely interrupted by the male excreting 20ft onto the pavement below. Splat! Glad I wasn't walking there. But that part of the pavement under that specific tree was surprisingly white…perhaps that's their home base?
That pavement has been cleaned and re-dirtied since - confirming my hunch. And I frequently see them both perched up in there, now I know where to look. Mystery solved. Pay attention to shit on the street.
Dumbarton Bridge dust bowl
CA noon on the 10th of June. Buddy got bit so now I can't run in the marsh anymore. Took the road towards Dumbarton. Now instead of a shrub lined bike path I got a pavement next to the freeway. One side the roaring road, the other a habitat restoration program, dry grass and dirty ponds and dry dirt and a few tumbleweeds. Not a bird in sight, save the roadkill in the shoulder. The big ole sign by Dumbarton advertises this nature reserve but gives off old West saloon vibes. Faded colors on weathered wood. Only a one or two others out - no one walks round these parts. One man pushing a trike of possessions like a rickety old wagon - though I bet the wagons a smoother ride. A lone desperado bikes towards the bridge, and presumably more fertile pastures East. As for me, I take refuge on an old couch neatly placed on the hard shoulder. I'll rest til dusk then roll on out.
A dropped squirrel
A nice relaxing trip to Monterey. Staying within walking distance of Lovers Point, an outcrop of rock butted between the ocean and a lawn manicured park. With great lines of sight out to Monterey Bay you can't not see wildlife: sea-otters, cormorants, whales, it's got it all. Its also become famous for the habituated ground squirrels who live in the maze of cracks built by the overlapping boulders of the point. So comfortable they'll approach anyone who walks through. Standing on tiny haunches proffering tiny hands and batting tiny eyelashes in the hopes of receiving a snack. Their performance is met by squeals of "Look at the baby squirrels!" and "They do tricks huh?". Needless to say they're well fed. Opportunistic seagulls hang about too, receiving much less attention.
I passed through this gauntlet of cuteness to stare out to the ocean and find real wildlife. A split of squawking pulled my attention. A flight of gulls mobbing and chasing another. Why? The lead gull had picked up a ground squirrel in its beak and was hauling it up in the air! The gull flew out over the rocky wall separating the outcrop from the ocean and dropped the squirrel. A sharp pang of pain best expressed by "Nooo!" ran through me. He fell 20ft through the air and onto the rocks below. The mob of gulls landed nearby to watch for activity. No sign of the ground squirrel. I was shook. Guess the squirrels performance worked on me after all.