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April 14, 2006
Humboldt Bay National Wildlife Refuge
Western Canada Goose
Zuiko 90-250/2.8 @ 287mm with 1.4 extender, 1/80th, f4.5, ISO100 +0.7EV
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Canada Goose scientific name is Branta canadensis moffitti
Zuiko 90-250/2.8 @ 354mm with 1.4 extender, 1/400th, f6.3, ISO100 -0.7EV
Dowitcher Shore Birds (Limnodromus griseus)
Zuiko 90-250/2.8 @ 354mm with 1.4 extender, 1/400th, f5.6, ISO100 -0.7EV
At the south end of Humboldt Bay, only fifteen minutes from home, thousands of birds call the tidal wetlands their home - at least for part of the year. Geese make up the largest population, especially in late winter and early spring before they migrate north for the summer. The Aleutian Geese had already flown north but the big Western Canada Geese were still nesting.
U.S. Fish and Wildlife, who recently built a photographer's bird blind along a large pond, run the sanctuary. I already had done an aerial photography project with the staff there (My Wild Goose Chase), and ranger Steve Lewis was kind enough to drive me to the blind yesterday for a daylight orientation. If you want to really stalk birds, though, you start in the dark.
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I ate lunch at the edge of the marsh before the daylight orientation trip to the bird blind. Whenever a bird flew by, I quickly swapped my sandwich for the E-330 and Zuiko 90-250 f2.8 lens, handy on a monopod to steady the long telephoto. |
I was literally up before the birds; packed for the morning with camera gear, hot coffee, blanket and breakfast. Barely a glimmer of dawn was showing as I pulled into the parking lot at 5:30am. The blind was almost a mile away, so I was thankful to have remembered the flashlight.
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The photographer's bird blind is at the far edge of the distant blue body of water in the upper center of this aerial photograph, taken with a Hasselblad ELM and 100mm/3.5 Zeiss lens and a Ken-Labs K-6 Gyro Stabilizer. From the birds-eye view looking south, the Visitor Center in the foreground is named after Richard J Guadagno, who managed the Humboldt Bay Wildlife Refuge until he died in the 9/11/01 crash of Flight 93 in Pennsylvania. |
Walking quietly along a dike bordered by tidal sloughs, my ears picked up an occasional splash and distant birdcalls. In the dark, a lone goose or two cackled and honked in the distance. Mostly the quiet settled in with steady footsteps lit by a little circle from my light. I slowed to adjust the straps on the almost thirty pounds of packs and bags. A few steps later without warning a thousand cackles sounded the deafening alarm – “Where are we going?!” Over the din of huge wings beating and my startled heart racing, I could imagine a chorus of complaints – “Why so early today?!” Barely starting the day's adventure, I was already experiencing the wonder and roar of the sudden fly-off. Geese settled down and regrouped in vague formations against dim clouds. My heart calmed down, too, as they headed to breakfast in farmers' fields with their quieted honking no doubt discussing pilot error.
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I was prepared for the next surprise, or so I thought. Yesterday Steve and I had seen a nest of four huge Goose eggs just one hundred yards from the blind. In the dark the next morning, the nest was getting close. Even though prepared, the sound only a few feet away like large sails flapping after a sloppy tack in strong wind stopped me in my tracks. No honk or sound except huge wings flapping in sudden flight. The rending of heaven could not have startled me more than it did those disciples of John when he baptized Jesus. By the time I was settling into the blind, there was enough light that birds would have easily seen me outside my snug shelter. At 6:20 I quietly opened one of the removable slats and right there, only 15 feet away, a small duck was feeding on the shoreline grass. It was still too dark for photos, so I amused myself with the Olympus E-330 Live View Mode B magnifier. Steadied by the tripod, the zoom at 250mm with 1.4 extender and 10x LCD magnifier feature gave me the equivalent of a 7,200mm lens on the viewscreen. Birds were swimming, preening, and diving. At 10x I could almost see if the last gulp of tidal weed was agreeable. |
Hot coffee and my Swiss cheese sandwich certainly made an agreeable breakfast for me as the day got brighter. Still quiet outside, I read in the dark from my glowing Palm PDA e-book --“Path to Rome” by Hillaire Belloc was somehow appropriate, I sitting in wilderness as he was walking across it in his solitary 1910 European pilgrimage across Alpine landscapes.
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The southern slope of Humboldt Hill across from the refuge is topped by the ubiquitous cellular tower, seen at dawn just after setting up the Olympus E-330 on a tripod and settling into the bird blind.
Zuiko 90-250mm, f2.8. 127mm, 8 sec, f4, ISO100. |
Outside, geese were definitely in the majority. Amongst several species, they filled the frame better, too. As birds came and went in irregular rhythm, the process began to feel like fishing only not as wet and messy. I swapped the Oly zoom for the Leica 70-180 plus APO 2x extender. Sort of like a fisherman swapping flies on his line. Expensive flies.
Those flies caught a few, too – photographs that is. A Canada Goose that was standing guard near a nest across from the blind flapped his wings in warning or boredom, only he knows. Quick grab shots as birds flew by were hit and mostly miss, but a few turned out well.
I will post more photos later after sorting the photos that filled about eight gigabits of Compact Flash cards. The RAW plus Jpeg setting fills up cards in a hurry.
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| On the long walk back, I was too pooped to dig out the proper lens for the E-330, so just pulled the little 5 megapixel Casio Exilim out of my pants pocket. The bird blind is along the tree line facing the water below the hills. The LowePro Sling 200 camera bag saved my shoulder on this hike by being able to center the bag behind me like a backpack. |
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