Dusting My Brain

May 9, 2008

Friday Feathers

This is one of those shots where you ask yourself if you're really seeing what you think you're seeing. I kicked myself a number of times for not using a tripod when I took this photograph of a Black-Backed Gull and its "Got One!" pal, the Osprey next to it.

My photo stirred quite the debate over at the Birder's Forum where I queried its members as to the I.D. of the gull. Though some members did offer up an I.D., the conversation morphed into photography and whether or not the gull was in front, above or behind the Osprey, and did I take any other photographs to assist in their discussion. (I did, but not of the two together.) I should have known the bird next to the gull was an Osprey, but somehow I missed that fact. (Must be post-traumatic stress from my tango with the Canada Goose.) Now I know. :-)

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May 2, 2008

Friday Feathers

aka: "a big baby"

... parents often violently chase away nearby creatures, from small blackbirds to other geese, to humans that approach, after warning them by giving off a hissing sound.

In the few years that I've been photographing birds, I never once considered or thought about any type of danger. I'd think about where I was and what villains might be hiding behind a tree during bear season; then again, there was the time when I was driving and cut off by a pair of Turkey Vultures. Other than that, nah. What could a bird possibly do to me while I was out taking pictures?

The answer to that question came a week ago when I visited my favorite marine study area to photograph whatever birds I came across. As I walked in and surveyed the landscape, I came upon two gentlemen; one had binoculars and the other a camera. Mr. Binoculars, who I would later find out goes by the name of Paul, pointed out this Yellow-Crowned Night Heron not far from where we stood.

I quickly lifted my camera and took a few shots. Mr. Camera, whose name I didn't get, informed me that the geese were nesting. I don't recall my response, but I do remember that the information didn't really register in my brain. I was too busy scanning the skies, I suppose. Paul must have caught on that I didn't quite *hear* what Mr. Camera just shared with me. He turned to the sign behind us, pointed to it and told me the Canadian Geese were nesting and they were doing that very thing on both sides of the path. The sign informed the reader to not disturb the nesting geese. Not long after we parted company. The two gentlemen headed off to the path in front of us while I (of course) turned left.

The path I took loops around and back to near the entrance. I then followed the same path Paul and Mr. Camera had taken. 10 minutes later I saw a Canada Goose standing in the middle of the path ahead of me.

I froze, fearful of a goose on a path in front of me. To my right, about two dozen geeselettes (juveniles, but 'geeselettes' is what I named them) were busy gliding through the water. To the left of me, dried sea grass and other swampy "stuff" (for lack of a better description.) My head kept turning left-right-center, left-right-center. I was looking for nesting geese. I moved to my left to see past the shrubs where goose #1 was hanging out, and that's when I spotted goose #2.

In my mind, that Stealers Wheel song began looping, only there was a slight change of lyrics. Geese to the left of me, Geese to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you. One would think that an 8-foot tall Grizzly was in front of me, the way my heart was pounding. I could actually hear the rapid and hurried thumps - THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP - I'll admit to silently slinging some sixteen thousand expletives while praying I'd not die of heart failure over a bird. I mean really. I was headed toward the Osprey nest and the nesting geese would prevent me from getting there. Nah uh. No way. I was going to forge ahead with my plan.

Meanwhile back in the land of my now instant oatmeal brain, I pondered my options. Keep going and hope for the best or turn around and go back. I thought about the amount of time I'd been there -- not very long -- and additional, more colorful swear words slipped out of my mouth. What's that saying, listen to your gut? With that in mind, I turned around and started walking back to the entrance. Along the way, staff from the nature area whizzed past in a golf cart, headed in the direction I just came from. I decided to turn around and follow them, hoping they stopped nearby. A few minutes later I spotted them, and went off to inquire if I passed the goose, which was still there in the middle of the path, would it start freaking out (exact words.) One staffer replied, "Oh, that goose isn't nesting, you should be okay." Her colleague said, "The trick is to be as quiet as you can when walking past them (trick is the operative word, since the path is littered with broken shells) and act like you own the place -- it's about attitude." I thanked them and decided to proceed... with extreme caution.

Anyone who may have seen me walking (er, race walking) past that area could have easily spotted my fear. My camera, now melted into my body from absolute terror, became my armor. That goose is looking at me, I can feel it. Now it's hissing like a snake. Oh shit. DANGER! Will Robinson. DANGER! I flew past. Had there been a flight race between me and the hissing goose, I would have won... had I recovered from the sudden realization that I was surrounded by nesting, hissing geese. Holy shit. If I thought my heart was thumping wildly before, it was now out of my chest and lodged somewhere in my throat. I couldn't turn around because there were nesting geese, and god knows what lies ahead.