A Winter Visitor

 Here in the Finger Lakes we have summer visitors and winter visitors.  Fewer birds choose to end their winter migration this far north.  One that has attracted me is the Horned Lark.  I first saw and photographed them in the summer of 2017 at Cape St. Mary's in Newfoundland.  We were there to see the colonies of Northern Gannets that nest on the high ocean bluffs, but one day produced such dense fog that I needed to find something inland from the ocean fog.

There were dozen of Horned Larks nesting in the highland grasses.  They were busy gathering insects to feed their young, and were fairly likely to come close if one picked a spot and just stayed there. Larks seem to be very skittish.  It was damp and it showed on the matted plumage.  The ends of the black head stripes normally stand up to resemble a horn.

Horned Larks are small (7 inches long) and slender (32 grams).  Compare that to the American Robin that is 10 inches and a relatively bulky 77 grams.  Getting close is a must for photography.

This winter, we have many flocks of one to four dozen birds foraging mostly where farmers have spread manure mixed in with bedding straw.  But they don't range widely  while feeding like in summer. Today was the first time in about six attempts where any Horned Lark came close.   

It appears that the winter has been hard on their feathers as most of them seemed disheveled, perhaps exaggerated by the strong winds. 

 

I don't expect to see them here much longer, as the days are growing longer and the nesting grounds are calling them.

 Paul Schmitt

Managing a Hard Winter

One key to managing this pandemic is staying active, and the hard winter we are experiencing is not making it easier. One benefit of living in the Finger Lakes is the number of outdoor activities that avoid close human contact.  Some of my early winter outings were to nature preserves close to Corning.  Plymouth Woods is small and rarely visited by more than a few people a week. At the entrance is a plaque featuring a timely poem by Robert Frost. 

I love exploring this small preserve to explore the intimate landscapes it reveals.  This thorny vine in early January still is showing a trace of green.  It's tough for sure.

 

Steege Hill is another nearby preserve, but it has miles of trails and some serious elevation changes.  It's a real workout in deep snow.  On one outing I used a phone app to remotely trigger my camera as I walked up a trail towards white birch trees. This is good way to take group photos with a tripod to hold the camera.  Easy.

In winter, the snow cleans up landscape so it is less cluttered.  Often, objects are seen more clearly. We are programmed to see familiar objects in cloud shapes, and likewise to see human forms in things like a tree stump.  Do you see a rather bizarre Root Man in this image?

Perhaps it was time to explore a little farther from home.  Snowy Owls are regular visitors when the winter becomes severe. Driving a few hours north, I found this owl perched at a roadside power pole.

My preference would have been to cross over to Canada for owls, but the border is closed.  Aren't we all accumulating a long list of deferred plans?  It just keeps getting longer each month.

Staying close to home, I met up with David Arkin to explore the Finger Lakes Land Trust preserve at Logan Hill in Candor.  It was one of the rare sunny winter days.  It was rich with animal tracks and a wide variety of habitats. It's now on my list for spring and summer wildflowers and birds.

We were so intrigued by Logan Hill that we returned to explore more with Betsy Darlington, who donated the preserve along with her husband for all to enjoy.  One highlight was discovering this fresh evidence of Pileated Woodpecker activity. There must have been a huge nest of Carpenter Ants in this old tree.

On the subject of deferred plans, one often frustrated plan for me was to capture an image of the full moon setting behind the iconic Little Joe tower in Corning.   Over about three years, I have plotted the shifting location of the moon relative to the tower, only to have my plan killed by complete cloud cover. I recall one morning when it all looked promising as the moon angled on a track down to the tower, only to be hidden by a fog bank rolling down the river valley.  Finally on a very cold morning in late January, I stood on the Chemung River dike and was rewarded with an image that I love.

You can see that the clouds advancing from the west could have ruined the image easily.

Installing a photo blind in my backyard and collecting some appropriate natural features, provided me with hours of enjoyment without the need to travel.  This Tufted Titmouse was captured at it hopped off its perch.  It was a matter of fortunate timing and selecting a fast shutter.

Sometimes, I am surprised at results that bring out a common bird's coloration with greater subtlety than we casually recognize.  That was the case for this elegant Mourning Dove that posed on a dead tree stump.  Doves are the earliest arrivals at our bird feeder most days.  Often they are shadows in the darkness.

Birds aren't the only visitors to my photo setup.  Gray Squirels police for sunflower seeds since my feeders are pretty safe from them. They are as alert for hawks as the small birds.

The White-breasted Nuthatch prefers a downward approach when foraging.  Each bird has a unique foraging habits and its is working down the tree.

In addition to the bird blind, another part of my strategy for tolerating the enforced distancing is to get out with my snowshoes.  As the snowfall became deeper, they became a great way to beat the cold and get some exercise. It was also another chance to practice using my phone to trigger the camera.

 By far, the time in the photo blind was the most productive activity in my plan to manage this hard winter and COVID.  It was rewarding when a beautiful bird slipped in swiftly to a perch that I had positioned for it.  I will end with two that were memorable to me.  The first reward was when a shy male Northern Cardinal appeared.  His posture indicated his alertness.

 

 

A second favorite was this inquisitive Carolina Wren that arrived to inspect this tree cavity shortly after I installed it.  Ten years ago, Carolina Wrens were unusual visitors, and now there are several pairs making daily visits.  

How to manage the double whammy of a hard winter and a pandemic?  A daily list of activities including some things one loves (plus the chores like clearing deep snow) and getting outside in low density areas for some fun. That's what works for me.

Paul Schmitt

Before the Storm

There was a lull in my busy December chores before the Northeaster arrived with 18 inches of heavy wet snow. (Heaviest since 1993!)   I put up my photo blind behind the house and was entertained by a few of my favorite winter birds.  Here are three that I liked.

This little Dark-eyed Junco was foraging through the leaf litter.  I wonder what they find.  This image appeals to me because of its attitude but also for the feather detail.  It won't be doing this today with the heavy snow cover. Instead, it will be foraging in our garden beds among the dead flower stalks for insect eggs and such.  We don't "clear cut" the stalks but leave them standing.

 Another favorite is the Tufted Titmouse.  Here is my hippie-hoppie version.

A final visitor is the White-breasted Nuthatch.  They seem  to prefer foraging downward.  I don't think I have one image of one going upward.

Now, if I can just get the edges of my home's roof raked today, maybe I can return to the blind for some of the increased visitors to my feeders.

As I Wander in Autumn

 

Going out with a specific goal doesn't always work for me.  On Tuesday, I headed out with a specific goal and very limited equipment.  I'll save that for last.  It was more typical on Wednesday when I just headed in a general direction with a map of back roads to keep me off the popular pathways. First, I found a roadside pond I'd seen last spring with the idea to get permission from the owner to enter.  (I was thinking ducks; did not get an okay.)  This time, I was happy to stay roadside.  

I like the scene.  The red sumac pulls my eye into the blue and yellow.  The reflections double up on the subject matter.  I've got to try again to get permission.  Maybe a photo will soften their heart.

I backtracked a little to head up a single track road into state land.  Soon, I just had to stop in the middle of the narrow road to capture the way the narrow gravel road welcomed me.  The star burst was a bonus.

It only got better about 200 yards farther up the road. I named this image a Golden Maple Framing the Field.

Something in the fore really excites me.  It tells me where I am taking in the view.   Do you see how the distant hill's trees don't have to be in sharp focus for you to enjoy the experience?

This road was making me take notes for next fall.  Another bend and I pulled over again.  Fallen leaves draped over big round glacial boulders were on the edge of the field. Some trees along the left and right sides framed a beautiful orange maple.

 

 

Those three images in less than a mile made it seem so easy to find landscapes in the fall. Maybe I got picky. It was a few miles before I saw an abandoned house that is no long home to anyone.  It seemed better in monochrome.

I turned to go back to the car, and faced a maple matriarch.  The house had so captured my attention that it did not register at first.  It appears that this tree was left, maybe for shade, when all the rest of the woods was clear cut.

This wandering was going well. There was one more country road on my list because it has a tree lined pond.  The drought has lowered the pond to mostly mud and pond scum. Oh well, maybe next year will be okay.  Have you ever noticed how a road or a wood's path looks so different when you reverse direction.  As I left this pond, I saw right in front of me another road to be remembered.  Imagine driving home to this view daily.  This farm family sees it in all four seasons.  Imagine it in snow.

So, this was a pretty good wander.  The day before I took a pre-planned visit to a nearby nature preserve.  I was hiking the trail days before and something about this fallen tree caught my attention.   The tree is very rotten, and when it fell, it left a narrow slot open all the way through the trunk.  I was thinking how this resembled the stone arches seen in Utah's Zion National Park. This was not a photo for a cell phone camera, so some forethought was necessary.  I would need to get really close.

 

So, Tuesday morning I assembled what I needed, including an oddball tripod that allows me to hang the camera upside down nearly touching the ground.  Here is the setup.

My controls are underneath and reversed, but I can see with the articulated display screen what the lens is displaying. To complicate things, the amount of light inside the  tree is much lower than the distant woodland, so I made more than one image and blended them together.

I call this Plymouth Arch in recognition of the like-named Plymouth Woods Preserve.  I am not done with this though. I want to go back on a rainy day when the leaves are vibrant and the light is subdued. It will be a different result.

 

I am thinking this is actually my most satisfying image of the month.

 

Thanks for your interest.

 

Paul Schmitt  

Autumn Wandering

Autumn can be a visually exciting time for photography, or not.  Sometimes it all comes together and it only takes a cell phone to create a beautiful image.  Other times, I find it hard to get excited.  This is the Upper Falls of the Genesee River in Letchworth State Park.  It is only faintly edited with no cropping at all.

This was almost too easy.  More often, autumn photos come out with some good content surrounded by "blah".   Rather then concentrate on the negative, my goal is to identify the plusses.  Here's a quote that I've learned from:

Everything in the picture space either helps or hurts the image. 

There's nothing neutral.       Tony Sweet, Nikon Explorer of Light

For the above image, I chose to stand where the red sumac on the lower right corner of the frame grabbed the eye and began my eye's movement into the scene.  Next, I found level by looking at the vertical trusses in the railroad bridge.  The train track is angled so the right side is more lower in the view.  Finally, the colors are real and not exaggerated as is so often done in autumn. (Don't do that!  It only makes it worse.)

So, I find myself wandering about looking for scenes that contain only positive elements and avoid the boring.  It's tough to avoid diluting the image with "nothing".

I am going to follow a story line like a writer.  This helps me cull the "boring". The image at right sets the scene.  Let's begin a walk in a nature preserve.  It is Plymouth Woods near my home. When Dr. Grant purchased this woodland for a retreat decades ago, he found an abandoned Plymouth sedan. The photo says "autumn" and tells you the origin of the name.  It's enough.

Now, we begin our walk. It's a welcoming scene, and the beech leaves in the lower right quadrant begin your travel.  Take out the beech leaves and it is unsure where to begin.  It doesn't have to be a great image to begin the story of your explore on an autumn morning.

Just up the road, a stone wall appears on the north boundary marking a farmer's hard work a long time ago.

My eye begins the trip at the stone wall and continues to the white birch tree surrounded by gold and rust scenery.  I am enjoying my morning walk and seeing some lovely settings.  Let's look even closer. That's a key.

The leaves are giving in to overnight freezes.  Just like in a movie scene, I am going from images that describe the setting to close-ups of the actors. 

Not every fall image is a blast of rich colors.  There are other stories.  I come upon many ant hills made by Allegheny mound ants (Formica exsectoides).

Yes, I purposely located the flower in the left corner to get your attention.

The colony can exist for many decades as it slowly builds the mound. They excrete formic acid around the edge of the mound and no plants intrude.  Over time, the mound can engulf any stray tree that falls on the mound. This is a story about a walk in the forest, and the ants don't need to be always set in splashy colors. 

It's been a good explore. Let's turn around and head back. Going in the other direction, the woods looks different and I see things that are new.  I didn't see this before.

 

 

It's been a good explore though a golden woods.  Here's a pair of big oaks that were probably a quarter of this size when  Dr. Grant entered Plymouth Woods.  They will continue to grow just like his gift to the Finger Lakes Land Trust.

 

As you view my images, I hope you will see that there is little that is neutral or negative in each.  It's tough to follow this practice but over time it has reduced my sense of failure with my fall images.  And, I have be able to go beyond looking to seeing.

Paul Schmitt

A Few Flowers of Autumn

The change into autumn has begun. Birds are moving south, frost warnings are appearing and the sunrise is progressing to after my normal wake up time.  I visited a state forest yesterday to see a relatively infrequent native plant, the Closed or Bottle Gentian.  There is just a tiny opening in the flower, enough for a small bee to enter.   (I wonder if the small opening preserves the pollen from autumn rains, not that we have had any measurable rain lately.)  So here in its dewy blanket is Gentiana andrewsii:

   Found some pretty white asters, possibly Narrow-leaved White-topped Asters (Seriocarpus linifolius).  Anyway, whatever the current name, I like them.

You can see that they mix in with the gentians.  Another neighbor of the fall blooming gentians are the common Goldenrods.  So many Solidago varieties to choose from.  I really love the colors when they mix with the gentian.

Also found was what I'm calling Autumn Calico.  It's just a colorful mix of leaf colors and asters.

All images were made with mirrorless Canon R6 and Canon 100 mm micro lens at f/8.  Manual focus with focus peaking to create stack of four to seven images.  Combined in PhotoShop.

Paul Schmitt

Featherless Fliers

Butterflies, naturally.  It's high summer.  Hot, humid and here it's really dry. Thankfully, our perennial wildflowers are surviving without watering.  They are attracting some regular visitors.  Here are a few.

This is a Pearly Crescentspot.  I love the little emerald mark on the top of the thorax.

It's a strong flier and aggressive towards other Crescentspots.  It did not stay long in one place, so getting just one image was a challenge.

I'll make a brief sidetrack from butterflies to dragonflies. I saw this Widow Skimmer making several threatening attacks on smaller butterflies like the above Pearly Crescentspot.

They are a hunter, but I'd not considered butterflies on their list. 

Another nervous butterfly was this Baltimore feeding on a stalk of Yarrow.

One of our most successful plants for attracting butterflies is the Echinacea prupurea, or Purple Coneflower.  The Painted Lady, Vanessa cardui, is a frequent visitor.

There are a large number of butterflies in the Skipper family, Hesperiidea.  I failed to conclusively name this one.  Similarly, I mostly failed to follow their erratic flight or focus on most before they moved again.  I got one clear image on a bellflower.

  And, I got one that confronted me on a tiny Coneflower. 

These are all beautiful and engaging, but just about the most anticipated butterfly to our garden is any of the various Swallowtails - big, colorful and strong fliers. This one fed voraciously for so long, that I had over 125 images to select from. Here is the amazing Tiger Swallowtail feeding on the native Monarda fistulosa  in our garden.

This one has been around for a while because it has lost it signature tails.

I love watching how these butterflies twist and turn, sometimes fluttering to reach each nectar tube.

Since I prepared this blog, I spotted another rare visitor to a Coneflower. Fortunately, my camera was setup and waiting for the unexpected.  What could top a Tiger Swallowtail?  The answer is:

Eastern Black Swallowtail !

These swallowtails are really skittish.  I was 8 feet distant, and moved foot closer and the butterfly leaped into flight, circled once and left the property.  Lesson learned.

I'd like to have added a Monarch to this, but they have been impossible to capture before they take off on a long distance flight. It will soon be time for them to be laying eggs on milkweed.  Maybe then.

Paul