The Tuxedo Bird

Rising early on a June day, I recalled when I did this daily in the glass plant.  No more. Now, I shared the road with unfortunates who have to do this daily.  Instead,  I had a rendezvous with the Tuxedo Bird, aka the Bobolink.

Note: Best viewed on tablet or larger screen.

Once plentiful, habitat loss and changes in grassland farming practices have reduced them.  On this morning, I am at Greenspring Natural Cemetery near Ithaca.  Their grasslands are not mowed until late fall.  The birds benefit. Listen to his song:

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=LOlO_kN0KiA

Bobolinks are not particularly shy, so I can just stand quietly in plain sight.  Last year's weed stalks are among the few perches for the  male to use while broadcasting his bubbling song.

He puts his full energy into the song.  I love how his tail feathers splay out, revealing the scalloped tips on each feather.  It's quite a display.

Unlike last year, the female Bobolinks are still visible suggesting they are not yet preparing their ground nest.  One researcher told me it is all but impossible to find her nest in the tall grasses.   I'd never try. 

This is truly the best scene I have ever captured of a Bobolink. 

While the male's energy was mostly split between attracting the female and repelling a neighboring male, the female was also probing for insects hidden in the dry stalks.

I did have one image showing an inchworm she had pulled out. Her rapid movement left it a bit blurred.  (Oh well, another time maybe.)

I did also see evidence that the male spares a little time to look for insects.

I also suggested that the Bobolinks were tolerant of me, but there were a few times when the male seemed to be giving me a hard look.

Maybe it was just happenstance that chose to direct his song directly towards me. Still, I love the look.

As a side note, this is about a 25 acre field and I did not follow the bird's movements.  After some observation a previous day, I picked a spot and avoided unnecessary movements. The males seem to have favored perches. The best strategy seems to be pick a spot and be patient.

After breeding season, the males molt and acquire plumage like the female for their trip to South America.  I'd bet the males never sing once south.

Hope you enjoy my ramblings.

Paul Schmitt

My Gear: Getting Back to Basics

When I was looking at best images for June, there was seemingly a strong mismatch.  I think it reveals a lesson that applies beyond photography to avocations like gardening, fishing or (shudder) golf. Let's call it getting back to basics.   Maybe big versus little lens?

I began in June at an apple tree loaded with fresh blossoms.  I know that every May, Baltimore Orioles arrive to feed on small caterpillars hiding in the center of the blooms.  My gear is a 500 mm f/4 lens, with a 1.4x multiplier to push the lens to 700 mm focal length.  It's supported by a rugged tripod. Overall it weighs 17 pounds.  A monster to carry, but it does what no lightweight setup can do.  The result keeps me ignoring the hassle. 

This image speaks to me about the oriole's elegant posture, colorful markings and his faithful memory of where and when to find the apple trees

Sometimes,  I just want to explore for new beauty without anything complicated.  Enter an entry-level camera with the basic 50mm kit lens that matches the first camera I used 36 years ago.  It only weighs 2.3 pounds.  One morning in June, I looked outside and wanted to explore this blooming pink dogwood.  I saw only two colors, hot pink and spring green, a perfect complementary pair.   Here, I see a bright, friendly member of my garden that washes away winter. 

The little Canon R and inexpensive 50 mm lens is often in my day-pack for hiking.  It offers simplicity and satisfaction.

Still, I am drawn back to the big lens.  I know that the little camera tests my skills and pushes my creative perception.  But, I am drawn to finding beautiful birds.  So, after the Orioles are gone farther north, I continue to look for situations that demand the big Canon lens.  There sometimes are Scarlet Tanagers, for instance, and when they sing it is magical.

The male is proud and driven by his genes to sing for unseen females.  His head turns just enough for the sun to illuminate his eye.  Again, red and green complementary colors, background blurry for the image to be all about the bird.  Listen to a tanager song on the internet to know more of what the image feels like to me.  But, let's get back to simplicity.

I believe the little camera plays a role in keeping me creative.  I treat it as sketching.  Most recently, I carried only the small rig on a hike up a forest road in Arnot Forest.  I actually expected to mostly be using binoculars to find birds, but I kept getting derailed.  Here are three examples.  Each has a name which speaks to what I saw.

A Beacon in the Forest

The Wild Marigold Sisters

A Lone Wild Columbine Deep in the Arnot Forest

I think what I saw in the forest matches what I saw for the birds.  When one starts a new activity, photography or golfing for example, gear seems to be so important. It isn't.  Must have the same clubs Tiger Woods uses.  That's normal.  As soon as the gear is understood, it's how you approach the golf course or the images.  I think my use of the little "carry about" camera spills over into what I create with the monster lens.  I know what I create is more dependent on my mind's eye than the gear.  This is an image from my five year old iPhone 8.  The flowers look like a row of bells.

After the Rain

I am satisfied with the images it produces and find no need to upgrade the phone.  No, my gear is not mismatched.  They are excellent tools, and the iPhone 8 belongs, too.

Can you relate this to a personal avocation which gives you satisfaction? Baking, cabinetry, fly fishing or sewing maybe.

Paul Schmitt

Who's Playing a Flute?

A dear friend, Julie Albertalli, spoke of a fond recollection about the arrival each spring of the Wood Thrushes on the family farm's hillside woods.   Here's one I discovered lurking in the shaded woods of the nearby Newtown Battlefield State Park.  That's just up the hill from her homestead.  This is often all you get to see of a thrush among the trees.

Julie's joy centered on the Wood Thrush song that drifts down from the tall hardwood trees with the sweetness of a solo flute.  Here's the sound from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology's collection:

https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Wood_Thrush/sounds

It's a rare situation where I actually see an entire bird singing on a sunny perch.  Note the rich color displayed: 

 

Today, I was back in a woods near to where Julie grew up hearing their song.  There was a bird foraging in the lower levels (mostly for caterpillars).  It's spreading its wings to take flight.

On very close examination, I can see a small insect in its beak.  That's probably an indication that they are feeding young, so I expect the singing will decline as territorial protection is reduced.  I will have to wait until 2023 to easily hear the flute's melody.

Paul Schmitt