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May 30, 2008

Friday Feathers

This Common Grackle was busy racing around in the grass. Seems it had a prize in its beak...

... a shishkebab of worms.

Ew.

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May 23, 2008

Friday Feathers

Whenever I see this photograph of a Red-Bellied Woodpecker I'm reminded of the time I took it. It was weeks before I'd see the shot due to the fact that my laptop decided to up and die. Gone from my home base for a month of housesitting, I was stuck in a very rural area and therefore without access to any type of computer store. After shooting the entire 2GB of my camera's card, I took it to the nearest camera shop and had the photos transferred to disk. I may not have been able to review the photos each evening, but I couldn't imagine not using my camera. No laptop + no camera? I shudder at the thought.

This bird kept me company for the duration, dutifully showing up at the feeder every afternoon around 3:30 p.m. As long as there was food for it to eat, it would hog the feeder, linger between bites and happily pose for pictures. As long as the bird was happy, I was too.

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May 16, 2008

Friday Feathers

Here in NYC we often refer to pigeons as "flying rats." This particular bird is all over the place, swooping down on unsuspecting pedestrians and forcing them to duck for cover. Although they're more of a nuisance 'round this neck 'o concrete, every so often I come across one that is particularly striking.

I've no clue what type of pigeon this is (dare I refer to it as a "Rock Dove?" I'm not sure.) Regardless, here's the full body shot.

On a separate note, welcome Abraham Lincoln! Yes I can hear the chuckles clear across the country, but Abraham Lincoln is his given name and he resides in Ohio. He stopped by here on the advice of the divine Ms. Zoe of MBIAT, and he's an extremely talented bird photographer. You can read all about Abraham on his blogs: Brookville Daily Photo, My Birds Blog and the blog featuring his books.

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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.

The STOP, OSPREY'S NEST sign barely registered in my brain. There would be no Osprey photos today, because I was in full survival mode. (I realize that's a bit extreme but my heart is in my throat, remember?) I blasted past a few more pairs of hissing geese and tried the "I own this place" attitude thingie the staffer suggested. After passing the pair unscathed, I came upon another photographer perched on a bench, hidden by reeds, and I think because I was so happy to see another human, blurted out (speed talking: excessive) "what a great spot for photographing the Osprey and how about those nesting geese?" He said that someone was nice enough to give him a large stick which he then showed to me. I nodded my approval, wondering how I missed the person giving out large sticks. But hey, I had my camera lens, and when fully extended it could serve as a weapon, if needed. Then I realized that no matter what, I couldn't beat a goose with my camera lens even if I wanted to. Nope. Can't do it. The geese are just doing what geese do when nesting and I'm the intruder. Best be getting along now, and so I continued on the path.

I rounded the corner and saw Paul (Mr. Binoculars) in front of me. Then I saw the goose in front of him. I stopped, lifted my camera, and photographed the goose. By this time I was relieved to see yet another human being. Somehow it calmed my nerves, and with Paul on the opposite side of the goose, surely there would be no problem passing the bird.

Or so I thought.

Paul was still a bit away from the goose as I began to walk toward, and hopefully past it. I recall hearing the now familiar hiss, and did a sort of front-back-front dance, moving ahead/back/ahead, and that's about the time when, in a split second, the goose attacked me. I heard its wings flapping, I saw its beak coming toward me. I have no idea if any comprehensible language sprang forth from my mouth. Forget the idea of using my lens as a weapon. Instinct had my eyeballs-to-villain-to-brain automatically lift my left arm, as the bird was headed in that direction. I turned my body to the right moving my left arm up to shield my head. It was quick, it was swift, and then I heard it.

Someone was laughing.

At first it sounded distant, from somewhere else. Then I heard it again. Laughter. Almost gut-wrenching, a tear-inducing guffaw that was ringing in my ears like an echo. Then I realized it was indeed laughter, and it was coming from Paul. Since he'd been behind the goose, he saw the entire goose debacle. And he found the goose attack amusing. Pfft. I can't recall what he said to me. All I know is that I begged him to walk with me out of that particular area and he called me "a big baby." I think I agreed. I think I said "yes that's right. I am." I don't know about y'all, but it's not every day that one is attacked by a goose. Little old ladies, yes, but geese? No.

I still don't know where and how things went awry, but as Paul walked with me, he proceeded to educate me about geese. I heard him say "they have no teeth" (true, but they're large birds with snappish beaks) "but their mouths are dirty, and if they get your bare skin, you'll get a rash." (Oh thank you very little.) Paul didn't get that I was traumatized, in a pure, absolute state of shock over what just happened. Minutes later he left me in a safe area, and I was on my way back to the entrance. I later found out that he's an Ornithologist. I asked him to share his eyewitness view of the moment I was goosed by the goose, and he graciously agreed. He writes:

As I saw you coming down the path from the Osprey nest area, the male goose started his offensive defense of his nest area. You showed fear and tried to walk by. He knows no fear and jumped up beating his wings and finally batting you with one. You courageously kept going which was good. He does this to everybody who comes by and generally wins so it has become a conditioned response. When I walked up, I started hissing before he did and he did not know what to do. He walked back towards the nest and kept looking over his shoulder at this crazy human hissing at him and not backing away!!

Lesson learned. Do my homework on nesting before venturing out... and carry a big stick. ;-)

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