A weekend at the rookery: Part 1

The rookery islands were teaming with life. From a distance, I could see the mangrove canopies were saturated with white birds. Only the brown pelicans could not be distinguished, but they were in there in great number, intermingled with the great white egrets. I approached the rookery in calm waters at about 7 am under a mostly cloudless sky on both days. Conditions could not have been any better. The earlier high tide was giving me an outgoing, perfect for the 1.5 mile paddle to the rookery. And by the time I left the rookery late morning, I had a nice incoming to help the paddle back.

It was hot, the sun never covered with clouds. This is the time of year that I crave. The heat can zap your energy quickly, but I am acclimated and was thrilled to sit among the hundreds of birds all Saturday morning knowing that I would not leave this place until the next day. Two glorious mornings among the smells and sounds of the birds; watching, studying, listening, learning. I am mesmerized by their lives, they go about them so narrowly scoped, instinctively surviving one day to the next. Like little automatons, these birds have it down to a perfection.

The babies are coming in various sizes now and they have raging appetites. Many of the brown pelicans and egrets are flying, and the pelicans are learning to swim as well. Most of the young egrets are really indistinguishable from the adults, aside from being a little scruffy necked. Then there are several of both species that I would consider medium-sized. Not yet flying, but certainly getting large. Those types of egrets were numerous and very noticeable at the highest parts of the canopies. There, I would see several long necks vertically inclined as far as they could go and all facing one direction. Within a small area, I would see 5 or 6 these skinny long white necks with their orange beaks all pointed in one direction in anticipation of an adult bringing food. And food they would bring, time and time again.

The young egret is a voracious eater and I noticed that it obtains food when mom would sticks her head inside its mouth. Many times, there would be a struggle as the baby would clamp its sharp powerful beak around mom's beak and then there would be a tug of war that lasted several seconds. One or two other babies would be eagerly looking on, waiting for its turn.

I have watched cattle egret feedings from the rookery on Biscayne Bay. What strikes me is that the cattle egrets are very messy eaters, which may reflect the type of food they are eating. I suspect that the cattle egret parent gets food from the ground, such as worms and grubs, whereas the great egret comes in with marine foods. Consequently, I have seen some disgusting stuff exchanged between cattle egrets and leftovers smeared around the beak and face of the birds. On the other hand, I never see the food stuff exchanged between the great white egrets. But what the two egret species have in common is that the babies are obnoxious and if patience is a virtue in a bird, the parent bird is quite remarkable.

I watched the egret feedings on several occasions. A few times I was able to see some of the pelicans feed. This time, the baby would stick its entire head and neck into the large adult pouch. The pelican feeding did not appear to be as painful as the egret's. There was one pelican family in particular that I was able to observe. There were 3 young ones, all huddled within a small nest. One was a bit smaller than the other two and I think about how ruthless these little survivors are with each other and hoped that this little one would survive the constant sibling battle for food.

As the hot morning grew hotter, birds began to face away from the sun and a few egrets fanned out their wings as a way to cool off or perhaps provide shade to the babies. I'll continue the description of the rookery in the next blog.

Chokoloskee Bay: hot and cold, day 1

A three-day weekend felt like luxury as we headed west on the Tamiami Trail by 5:30 am on Friday as most Miamians were waking up to another workday. This was a holiday for me and I couldn't think of a better place to spend it than on Chokoloskee Island. For the weekend, we stayed in our friend Mike Stubblefield's newly acquired trailer located in Chokoloskee Island Park, the place I want to kill time when I finally reach my retirement years. I could live in a small trailer, store my canoe on the screened patio and wheel it down to the marina where I could launch onto Chokoloskee Bay any damn time I pleased. In the evenings, I could drink a cocktail as I watch the sun set over the Everglades National Park. My friend Mike is living my dream, but fortunately for me, he offers his place whenever Vivian and I want to stay on the island for the weekend.

The tides would be good all three days, an outgoing early morning, and with a new moon, the oyster flats would be revealed for the birds feeding on crabs and other marine edibles. On Friday, we drove a hop, skip and a jump over to Outdoor Resorts where we could launch on the east side of the bay and head toward the mouth of the Turner River. The lighting is not the best for me as the sun rises over the mangroves and leaves much in the shade where I would likely see most of the birds. I could always paddle around to the other side so I wasn't too bothered by this so much. What did bother me were the no-see-ums that were in full force at the launch site. We were getting no breeze to speak of and on this side of the bay, would likely not get much while on the water. With mosquito net attire, I headed out to the bay and couldn't take the netting off for awhile as the tiny bugs swarmed around my head. This was not a good sign.

After awhile, I was cleared of bugs and decided to get out the camera and attach the flash. I may get lucky as I looked for birds in the area where they likely would be feeding or flying overhead. I did find some ibises and a couple young little blue herons still covered in white feathers. Where I found them was in a small lagoon completely shielded from any breeze (and the sun) and typical of their nature, the no-see-ums were there to greet me. I couldn't stand it any more. It was hot, humid and I was itching like crazy. I paddled out into the open and realized I was going to need a dose of benadryl. This happens occasionally out here as I am quite sensitive to mosquitoes and no-see-ums. We always carry children's benadryl, the version that doesn't make you sleepy. I radioed Vivian who was carrying the emergency kit; she was there to deliver the drugs in a matter of minutes.

I guess I should mention the sky and the clouds. We expected a cold front to come blasting in sometime this weekend, but from Friday morning on, we would see very little blue sky. The clouds forming in the sky were varied and it became clear that a storm would be blowing in from the southwest before our morning was through. I began to paddle toward the oyster flats that litter the bay on the south end of Choko Island, near Rabbit Key pass. The western sky was now very dark and the sun rising to the east barely had enough opportunity to shine without cloud cover. Interesting sun rays were shooting down toward the water as cumulus clouds passed over the sky. I hung out with a cormorant drying its wings on a channel marker, surrounded by dark clouds and light sun rays shining down like stage lights illuminating the water all around the bird's perch.

I paddled toward the oyster bars where there were several gulls and terns and a few ibises. The dark sky was a perfect backdrop for the birds and the water as I paddled to a spot where I might photograph some of them. A flock of royal terns spooked by a power boat passing near by flew up into the dark sky before circling and landing back onto the oyster flats. So beautiful it was as the sun behind me cast brilliantly on the birds, contrasted against the dark sky. A flock of about 15 snowy egrets flew overhead, heading toward some refuge no doubt as a storm was forming in the gulf. I anchored and sat for a moment attempting to find the best angle for some photos. I heard a loud and odd sound from the distance. It sounded like rushing water. I looked over toward the west side of the bay and rain was falling hard near its edge, about 1/4 mile away. The water was gray and misty where the rain was contacting the water. It was coming toward me fast, so I fumbled to get the camera put away. Just as soon as I did, the rain was upon me and the wind picked up to a very brisk 10 knots. The waves were sharp across the shallow flats and my boat was in a precarious position with the anchor pulling from under the hull. I got the anchor out of the water and just let the wind blow the boat.

The scene was fantastical as the water surface all around me was punctuated with hard driving rain. The sun was still shining behind me surprisingly as so many clouds were formed in the sky. The rain drops on the bay water were illuminated by the sun and with my polarizer sunglasses, a golden hue cast across the entire bay. By now, a rainbow had formed and at one point, the bow of my boat pointed in a direction where the rainbow curved up from the water on both sides, almost forming a complete circle. Oh, how I wanted to photograph this amazing scene! I started thinking of how I might rig an umbrella or some kind of bimini on my boat for these occasions. For the time being, I sat, completely soaked and watched the storm theatre, without camera.

After about 5 minutes, the rain stopped and the wind died down. I was drenched and a bit chilly. I put my rain jacket on. The sun continued to shine and after a few minutes, I took advantage of the lighting and captured a few photos of the terns perched on some pilings near the channel. The wind picked up again and continued to drive my boat as I attempted to anchor in the deep channel. I couldn't keep the boat in one spot so it became futile to continue photographing the terns after some minutes.

The morning started out hot and humid and by the time I got off the water around 11 am, the temperature had dropped about 15 degrees and the wind had picked up steadily. I thought I could get back out in the afternoon, but the winds picked up again and although it did get hot and humid once more, the winds never died down. It's not worth the trouble in those conditions, so I would wait until the next morning. In the meantime, we relaxed and enjoyed the remainder of the day on the island, hanging out with our friends knowing we would be on the water tomorrow morning without the long drive beforehand.

Biscayne: Where the grasses are

I think my favorite place to be is in my canoe drifting along Biscayne Bay near Matheson Hammock near low tide. Today, I would spend the morning in my favorite place. Low tide was scheduled about 10 am, so the out going tide would be perfect for wading birds along the shoreline. Even better, we haven't been inundated with rain these past couple weeks, so the fresh water run-off from the canals would be nil.

We arrived at the launch site around 7 am. The Columbus Day regatta was in full swing. The evidence for this was the countless number of trucks attached to boat trailers parked at various points along the road leading to the launch site; those trucks belonging to people that got on the water yesterday and now were surely sleeping off hangovers while anchored somewhere near Elliott Key. A few cars were parked at our launch site, one with a young couple apparently rounding out an evening of who knows what by watching the sun rise over the bay. Someone had their tripod and camera set up in the water, here where sunrises are captured regularly by the locals. Dark morning clouds were raging across the horizon, just like they always do during those summer days. Above them, higher in the sky were those wispy winter-type clouds, the kind that splay out across the sky like a horse's mane and give notice of impeding weather changes. We look for those clouds during our winter trips when cold fronts and high winds can descend on us at a moment's notice.

This morning, the sun would mostly stay behind a very large cloud for awhile. I got on the water to see the sky about the Miami skyline, pretty enough that I took out the camera with the 70-400mm attached and shot some scenes at 70mm. I captured a few shots of the sun rise and after a few moments, turned my attention to the long shoreline that extends south of the launch site. Here is where I will find the birds and already I could spot a great white egret or two. I paddled over toward the mouth of the creek as I watched a number of brown pelicans diving here and there. The skittish egrets and herons flew off further from me as I continued to paddle in the shallow water.

I found some little blue herons that I could capture in backlit style. They are relatively easy to capture this way because they tend to feed at the edge of the grass flat that extends out from the shoreline a couple hundred feet in some areas. If you get between the bird and the shoreline, you can often get them in undisturbed water where little grass sticks out above the surface. Today, the wind was strong enough to cause a constant ripple effect, so finding that kind of shot would be impossible today. I decided to try my luck at some shots with various lighting. At one point, I set up my flash with better beamer for some shots of other birds that were closer to the shoreline. I managed one shot of the great white egret preening before it flew off far away.

The clouds came and went and for long periods, the sun would shine brightly before being covered again. Most of the morning I wen back and forth between highkey backlit shots to natural frontlight with or without flash to capture the birds feeding in the grasses. The little blue herons and ibises were the stars of the day while my attempts at shooting a tricolored heron or great white egret did not come to anything worthwhile. During much of the morning, the birds and I were punished with the loud and obnoxious music from the boats leaving the marina as they headed toward Elliott Key where an even more obnoxious and loud party awaited them. I felt safe and secluded in my grass flats, where no powerboats could come anywhere near.

Later, I paddled closer to the launch site where a couple of great white egrets were hanging with some other waders, two yellowcrown nightherons, a tricolored heron, little blue herons, and white ibises. I found a good location and stayed there for the remainder of the morning. I noticed that closer to the shoreline the water was not disturbed by the grasses, seemingly a bit deeper in that portion of the flats. Here, I watched the great egrets rumble with the tricolored heron over fish that would jump several feet at a time while being chased by a bird. I watched the egrets and tricolor capture relatively large fish, 6-8 inches in length. In the meantime, the ibises were nervously poking around the grasses and behind me were some little blue herons farther away from the shoreline. At one point, an osprey flew overhead but soon moved on. Brown pelicans were still coming and going.

It got hot today, as it has every day. By 11 am, I was off the water. In October, we are usually spending all our time in Chokoloskee Bay rather than Biscayne Bay. My photographs are testimony to that as I have no October dated photographs from Biscayne Bay, until today. I'm thinking that I may see some new things out here if I can continue to visit the bay before the new year. It's fall season for the northerners and that means more birds for us down here. Photographers have been waiting for this season to come. In the meantime, I'll continue to photograph into the fall season, as I have been doing all summer long in my canoe.

Biscayne Bay: finally, no storm clouds

Or at least not until after 1 pm, about the time we got off the water today. While launching near Deering Estate at 7 am this morning, we looked forward to being on the water all morning without worrying about the storms that dance all around us in the sky every time we come out here. But not today. This morning as the sun was already above the horizon, cumulus clouds that eventually would burn off roared up into the sky as the sun backlit the scene. The white ibises were flying overhead instinctively toward some daily destination. The calmness was inviting as I began to paddle north toward Chicken Key.

Before heading out to Chicken Key where eventually I would paddle to the sponge farms, I took a detour to the little island in front of the Deering Estate. The island was alive with hundreds of cormorants, many of which were juveniles, not yet adorned with those striking emerald eyes. They were flying about quite actively and would make their landings in the canopies facing the sun, which gave me a good angle for flight shots. Despite hanging out with them for some time, I didn't manage to score a good shot at a shutter speed of only 1/640. I bumped up the ISO to 640, but with a +1 compensation, the shutter speed wasn't quite adequate for these speedy birds. Most of the shots came out too blurry and besides, they were on to me as they would move away to a perch well away from me.

I left the cormorants and headed out toward Chicken Key where I would watch 4 brown pelicans swimming and diving for a short while. The air was calm, but the sun was already high above the horizon at 8-8:30 am. I wanted to head over to the sponge farms just north of the channel that runs past Chicken Key. The sponge farms are nothing more than several large wooden sticks sticking out of the water at various heights. At low tide, many our about 5-10 feet above the water surface. There are a few communities of sticks within a 1/4 mile length of bay. Each community contains about a 12-20 sticks within a small area. I thought I would hang out there thinking that the gulls would be quite active. The stick perches are perfect as most of them are at eye level, perfect for capturing gull interactions. I wasn't sure what to expect because I didn't not see one gull all morning until I finally arrived at the channel. Soon, I noticed many gulls flying about. Mostly laughing gulls, immatures and winter plumage types. I also saw a few herring gulls, mostly immatures and several royal terns.

I approached the spong farms where I watched gulls and cormorants flying about and landing and taking off from the sticks. I noticed once before that the cormorants will mostly fly away with an approaching boat getting too close. The gulls on the other hand, stick around. They do not seem to mind my presence one bit. I suppose they are so use to humans with their docks and boats and frequent hand outs. If one or two do fly off in fear, it is only a matter of seconds before they have a change of heart and come back.

I anchored near one of the sponge farms in the best lighting and background position I could find. And there I sat for probably a couple hours as the gulls entertained me. Gulls are common, no doubt about it. But the gull is a lively subject to photograph, especially when there is precious real estate to fight over. They fuss with each other constantly and make so much noise when one approaches, it alerts me to an impending photo opportunity. The interactions today were perfect as they landed toward me and the sun. This was brilliant for capturing full wing spread as they attempt to land on a stick already occupied by another gull. Despite being "lowly" gulls, they are beautiful and quite fun to watch.

After several hours on the water, I headed back toward the bird rookery island where by now, all but 2 of the cattle egrets were gone. The island was still littered with nesting cormorants, and I watched some adults coming in with nest material. A few anhingas were also spotted as their long necks stood out over the canopy. I paddled back to Deering with Vivian and we met up with our friend David. I had been picking up a few pieces of debris as I always do when out here and today, I noticed a very large white object in the mangroves. I paddled over and found it to be a large piece of styrofoam, about 4 ft by 3 ft, with a few wooden planks loosely attached by 1 ft rusty nails. It was the remains of some kind of floating platform. I managed to pull it loose from the mangroves and I thought I could haul it back. David some how got it up onto the stern of my boat and balanced it as best he could. With the large object behind me and in a slightly imbalanced boat, I paddled back to the launch site. With some help from a stranger, I carried it up onto land next to a garbage can hoping it would get picked up with the other garbage.

It was 1 pm before I was driving out of the parking area. Six hours on the water today and it was brilliant! I am a lucky person to live here.

Biscayne Bay: end of summer and perigee moon tide

With the neverending storm activities crossing Florida every day, I wasn't sure if I'd get out on the water this weekend. True to form on Sunday morning, the weather radar showed orange and yellow storm activity over Miami and some of the bay. It looked like it was dissipating, so by 6:30 am, we were on the road to Matheson Hammock. The low tide was about 5:30 am, but with the perigee new moon, I didn't know what to expect on the water. What I did expect was to not launch from the usual canoe launching area, which would be completely under water before noon from the incoming tide. The tide differential was going to be almost 3 feet and the strong perigee effect would probably increase that considerably. To avoid finding my car in 2 feet of water, we launched from the canal.

I headed out to the bay via the marina channel only to be confronted by a very large dark storm cloud that was beginning to produce lightening and thunder. The rolling clouds that completely covered the Miami skyline continued heading out across the bay. I decided to paddle back to the canal and stay close to the launch site until I knew what this storm would do. The easterly winds picked up and as I headed back to the canal, I passed a kayak fishermen who continued on into the bay. He was attracted to the cloud scene and I don't blame him, it was amazingly beautiful.

Back at the canal I crossed under the bridge and noted that the water line was about 1 foot from the edge where people often fish, the highest I have ever seen. The incoming water was rushing me through the canal and would continue throughout the morning. Near the launch site is a large truck sized garbage bin where several black vultures were dining. From the dead fish smell emanating from the bin, I guessed that these birds were having some feast. Many of them were flying to and from the slash pine trees and with a bit of wind, they would perch on the bendable branches precariously. I thought they would be fun to photograph in silhouette form so I anchored near the edge of the shoreline and hung out with them as several went back and forth from the garbage to the tree. Not long after I started, it began to sprinkle, enough that I put away the camera.

It wasn't raining hard and the storm that displayed lightening earlier never amounted to much and splayed out over various parts of the sky, still dark, but not threatening. After some time, it pretty much stopped raining. I paddled down the canal to the opening of the creek that leads out to the bay eventually. The water was so high that the normally wide creek was tight. I soon noticed that the tiny mangrove crabs were at eye level with me as they attempted to keep themselves above the waterline. These mangrove crabs are fascinating, a very strange looking creature that lurks around the mangrove roots. They are extremely shy and as soon as you spot one, it quickly scuttles the opposite side of the root so that all that is showing are its tiny feet and maybe a protruding eye or two.

I continued on and thought I would find my golden silk orb weaver and maybe a crab or snail to photograph. This would not be a bird day, although I did happen upon a green heron who saw me before I saw it. The spider was in her usual spot and today, I was closer to her with the high water level. I had my anchor set up too, but this would not be an easy day for photographing in the creek. The water was rushing through and made it very difficult to set up. It didn't help matters either that the no-see-ums were thrill seeking and pretty much did what they pleased. They weren't so bad that I needed to get my bug dope out, but they did give me the itchys for awhile.

I headed out to the bay to see what I could see and check out the storm situation. It could get ugly, but then again, it might not. The nastiest looking storm was off shore but it seemed far enough to not be a problem. Boats were heading out on their usual course not minding the storms that danced all around. At the mouth of the creek, schools of bait fish were flying out of the water in the hundreds as they get chased by something large. In the meantime, Vivian was snapping up snappers left and right. Seems they head into the creeks and face the incoming water as the bait fish are pulled toward them.

Bird activity was minimal today, a few ibises were looking out over the bay from high slash pines and one brown pelican flew by following the shoreline and occasionally diving as it headed north. The gulls were flying en mass, but that's typical this time of year. Instead of heading back through the creek, we decided to paddle through the marina. We passed our usual launch site which by now was completely underwater. I paddled over to it and continued over to the road where we normally park our car to load our boats. We passed the very busy marina where 6 boats were at the docks ready to head out, having waited for the boats that were already in the channel. I got back to the bridge where a few hours earlier the water was still below the edge. Now, the concrete was covered in about 1 foot of water, a 2 foot difference.

When the water is so high, photographing is futile from my canoe. High water means strong tides and the current makes it difficult to stay in one spot. Not only that, there are no wading birds to speak of. At low tide, I have the entire area near the mouth of the creek filled with wading birds. Today, that same area was covered in about 3-4 feet of water. The moon is a powerful presence. I see it's power everytime I come to this bay.

It's officially the end of summer. Fall is here and soon, my attention and time will turn to the Everglades. I expect to get out to Biscayne a couple more times over the next month or two.

Biscayne: Blackpoint for a change

I forgot to set the alarm. Good thing I am a natural early riser. We still made it to the launch site at Blackpoint by 7:45. The sun was higher than my preference for launching, but the sky was covered in a thin veil of clouds so it wasn't too hot or bright. We caught the middle of an outgoing tide so I didn't expect to see any wading birds. Never really do, except maybe along the jetty. I thought I'd meander into the creeks located about 1/2 mile north of Blackpoint and not much else.

Once out of the muddy creek that leads us out into the open bay, the calm water was glaring with the sun already high in the sky. I paddled a bit and noticed a tricolor heron flying toward the jetty and landing in an open area. The jetty offers some opportunties for morning photos, it is perfectly located to catch the morning sun. If there isn't any manmade debris laying about, you can capture some brilliant shots of a wading bird among the black and red mangroves. A few limestone rocks line the jetty and they sometimes provide the bird a place to stand over the water. I got out the camera and began to paddle toward the bird. There was no current (slack tide) to speak of and once I was about 80 feet from the bird, I anchored calmly and pretty much stayed right there. The bird fished along the edge of the jetty within a 30-ft range, back and forth. Sometimes it would be lit up among the bright green mangrove leaves, at another point it would stalk its prey along the black mangrove roots that rose feet above the bird. I sat on the bottom of the canoe today to get as low as possible and that seemed to work quite well.

I stayed with with the bird for 30 minutes or so, until it decided to fly off. I didn't seem to be bothering it as my boat sat still, but a parade of powerboaters pass through channel on the other side of the jetty. Some are louder than others, with their obnoxious raggaeton music over the engine noise. The bird, rightly so, was not amused and left the scene. So I turned and paddled to the east toward Blackpoint where Vivian and our friend David were fishing. I paddled past them and continued along the shoreline toward the lagoon that leads into some creeks. Other than a few comorants and gulls, there was not animal activity that I could see. I noticed a very large blue crab in the clear shallow water and as my boat passed it within 5 feet, it raised its large claws toward me in defense. Beautiful crab!

I wandered through the creeks with a strong outgoing current and didn't see any spiders or crabs to photograph. I simply enjoyed the paddle and kept my cameras in the pelican case. The sky was still veiled with clouds, this would have been a good day to use the macro lens with the flash. I headed back to Blackpoint and wandered over to another area to another creek closer to the launch site. There I found my favorite spider, the large female golden silk orb weaver. I got out the macro and the flash and started to photograph her with the strong sun light above. By now, storm clouds were forming to the west and soon, I would need to paddle back.

For photographing, Blackpoint is not my first choice, but it is the only site we launch from that is within the national park boundaries. Except for the powerboats in the channel heading out to Eliott Key, this is one of the most pristine areas on the bay. The cove that sits behind Blackpoint is a popular kayak fishing area. When I am here, I think how things might have been if not for several relentless people who fought hard for the Biscayne Bay refuge and eventually the national park. Blackpoint was once considered the future location for the head of a bridge that would lead out to Eliott Key. That and a refinery were being considered for this location. Now, Biscayne Bay in its entirety is the largest marine park in the country and it shoulders right up to the city of Miami. How lucky we are to be here.

Biscayne Bay: summer comes to a screeching halt

An early morning Sunday on Biscayne Bay was perfect, the day before I begin a new semester. Juggling work and photography from a canoe has been challenging and naturally I would prefer to spend my time in the canoe. With work consuming most of it, I will find trinkets of time to get on the bay. And as always, a fantastic camping season in the Everglades will begin soon.

We launched from Deering on Sunday morning and were on the glassy water by 7 am as the sun rose behind thick clouds muting the entire scene over the bay. The shadowy flocks of white ibises flew over the launch area heading in an easterly direction, as they do every morning like clockwork. You can count on so little these days, but the ibis's flight schedule is perfect. The air is thick with humidity, even more so with no wind apparent. I paddled north toward the rookery feeling a layer of sweat that could not evaporate. The water was crystal clear and reflected a metallic gray as the clouds covered much of the sky. The horizon and water blended as one, disrupted by an occasional powerboat speeding off far, far away.

I saw a large flock of egrets, snowy or cattle fly along the mangrove canopy and the white feathers punctuated the glowing green mangroves, capturing the sun as it began peeking out between the clouds. There was plenty of opportunity to shine today as the clouds dissipated. A large dark mass was hovering just southwest of us, but we did not get rained on today.

As I paddled north across the bay bordered by Chicken Key, I saw the usual fish popping, cormorants flying fast over the water's surface and several gulls (laughing types I think) flying overhead. This is exactly the time of year that I witness hundreds of cormorants congregating in the water. As the sun rose higher, I noticed dozens of birds flying behind Chicken Key, wondering if thy were the cormorants.

Instead of paddling directly to the rookery, I head out toward the bay and watch for cormorants. I like the high key effect, shooting in the direction of the sun to capture the bird and its reflection on the water. Along the channel are several mangrove mini-islands where some great white egrets and the less common great white herons were waiting for the outgoing tide to become low. Cormorants speckled the mangroves, possibly young fledglings born in the nearby rookery island.

Soon, I begin to see several cormorants flying in an easterly direction out toward the horizon. Dozens of them flew a common route. I paddled somewhere in the middle of their flight path to watch and photograph them. They seemed to all be heading toward a distant point on the water, but I could not see it well enough to estimate how far I would need to paddle to reach them. A lone kayaker was heading in a southerly direction right toward the birds and the paddler seems to be right in the midst of the cormorant activity from my perspective. Where there are hoards of cormorants there are gulls. Dozens of them were flying about and diving for an occasional snack.

The cormorants were too far away, I could not make out their tiny silhouettes on the water, so I headed to the rookery. It was blazing with noise but I could not see as many birds today. I noticed one cormorant flying in with a branch and frequently watched an adult egret fly out of and into the island. There were many young birds flitting around the mangroves, and some were testing their young wings in circles around the canopy. It would not be easy to capture much activity, so I paddled back out to the bay where a large group of cormorants in the water were resting near the sponge farm sticks. The sponge farms consist of nothing more than wooden beams sticking out of the water. At three different locations about 100 or so feet from the shoreline, 8-12 beams of varying height and decrepitness are situated closely together spanning an area of about 200 sq ft. Here, gulls and cormorants perch and occasionally fight each other for a measly spot on a beam. I approached the scene with the sun at about 10 o'clock from me and captured the stark scene, nothing but wooden poles and a bird perched on each.

Gulls are fairly use to humans and it takes a deliberate act to scare them off. In fact, the gull is the consummate opportunist and often times one will fly over my boat looking for bait or leftovers of some sort. I thought I'd hang out with these guys for awhile as the cormorants shied away one by one. I noticed one royal tern among the group but the gulls I watched today were laughing gulls. Many looked like the immature types and some looked like the winter plumage types. When it comes to gulls and other small shorebirds, identification is a bleak process for me.

I head back to the rookery and paddle over the extension of the rookery on the other side of the channel. There was nothing to photograph, most of the birds had left. I paddled back toward Deering as the western sky looked to be forming some storm clouds. I still had time so I paddled into the little channel where we launched a couple weekend ago. I had seen some golden silk spiders stringing their web across the water in the narrow channel. Sure enough, I spotted three of them. I got out the external flash; now the sun was almost directly above, frontlighting these behemoth 8-legged animals. I tried to capture them from directly below to get a fresh angle for a photograph. I anchored but there was a current giving me a challenge as I tried to focus on the spider and capture a sharp image. After some time, I paddled out to the bay and headed back to the launch. By now, the storm clouds were beginning to mass over the area and it was time to get off the water.

Summers on Biscayne Bay are golden. I have one more long weekend ahead and plan to stay away from the holiday weekend rush and get on the bay a couple of mornings. The tropics, you got to love it.

Back to the Biscayne Rookery

For the third year in a row, I have photographed a bird rookery on Biscayne Bay. During the previous two summers, I stayed close to one island watching the dozens of nesting cormorant and cattle egret families. I wrote a journal about it last summer that covers several visits from May to August. The journal is on my website at http://cmierphotoandfitness.net/birdrookery.

My first visit this year was early May when we attempted to launch from the People's Dock near Deering Estate. I planned to get to the rookery at the earliest light but as it turned out, the launch was problematic and by the time I arrived at the rookery, the morning sun was in full force. I arrived at the island that I studied intensively last year to find a disappointing number of birds. They seemed to only be located on the southwest end of the island, where they flourished in the shade. There were many flying to and fro, but scant activity from my perspective with the sun behind me. Hmmm. Where were the birds? Was I too early in the season? Last year, I did not arrive until mid-May, so maybe I was a couple weeks too early.

I knew that there were some islands on the other side of the jetty near the channel closer to the private docks along the bay shoreline. I never attempted to photograph those islands because of the deeper water and boat traffic. The island that I do photograph sits in shallower waters and is well isolated from the channel. With the little activity I saw on the island today, I decided to head over to the channel islands to see if they held more bird action. There are actually three small islands side by side. They are within a few hundred feet of a wall of mangroves that separates the water from the condominiums. I paddled over there, about 1/4 mile away to find each island feverishly active with nesting birds. As usual cormorants and cattle egrets ruled the island in their high numbers. I also spotted several tricolor herons, a few little blues and a couple anhingas amongst the crowd.

The nests were in full force. Nest building, feedings, testing young wings, etc were all happening. Clearly, these islands were going to get more of my attention this summer. I dropped my anchor and was pleasantly surprised to find that it actually caught bottom. I was able to stabilize my boat and luckily, there was no boat traffic on this side of the channel. This was good since the best lighting is on the side of the channel where I would most likely encounter boat wakes.

Since this first day, I've been back to the rookery a few times. the original island has demonstrated more activity and I've spent some quality time watching it. But the three islands near the channel have proven to be a gold mine of bird nesting activity. One day, I arrived with a total cloud cast. A nasty storm was forming in the east but it stayed far enough away that the winds did not pick up significantly and I didn't have to paddle for cover. A perfect day on the water as it turned out! It was a good day for flash and to learn how to use it on white birds. I spent the entire morning facing east despite the rising sun. With the diffuse lighting, I was able to move to any location around the islands and photograph the activity. There was a great amount of flying activity and I practiced shooting while using the flash. I captured some cormorants feeding in the nests and also in the water, which is an interesting sight to see.

The cattle egrets do a very good job of hiding their nests and thus far, I have had little luck capturing a parent feeding the young birds in the nest. One day, I came up on the island just in time to see a tricolor heron feeding its baby. As soon as I saw it, it was finished and flew off leaving the baby tricolor behind. The baby stood on a high branch in good light for the longest time seemingly waiting for mom to come back. I waited patiently for the parent to arrive again for another round of feeding, but I never saw it and missed that opportunity. In the meantime, birds were flying about and young cormorants were learning to swim. Several fledglings were learning to use their wings, never venturing too far from the nest.

I'll visit the rookery a few more times before the summer is over. This year has been more of a challenge to get on the water because of the storms and rain. But it's been a privilege as always to visit the rookery and observe the life of the birds.

Concerning photography, I've used my new telephoto zoom lens here at the rookery once so far. Compared to the prime lens (420mm with teleconverter attached), the 70-400mm lens has opened up more opportunities. I can capture entire wing spans on birds in the mangroves and flying over head. This advantage becomes most evident in flight shots where I often focus on an incoming bird getting closer by the millisecond. With the prime lens, I have a short window of opportunity before the bird gets too close and I miss the entire wing span. Obviously, I will need some practice with the zoom, but that's part of the fun of it.

I've been struggling with a chronic case of tendinitis in my left shoulder and arm. It appears to be brought on by holding my camera. To overcome this, I purchased a monopod and use it often in the boat and on land. It may or may not provide me more stability but it does take the pressure off my left shoulder. Using the monopod, however is limiting especially with flight shots. It does have a swivel head which helps, but it is still awkward when trying to move the camera about. It's especially difficult when I have the flash attached. In that case, I don't even bother with the monopod and simply try to use my knees as support for my arm.

Using the flash has been challenging and I'm still working out the bugs so to speak. Shooting white birds in daylight with the flash seems counter-intuitive but when shadows start taking over (i.e, under the wings), the fill flash is very pleasing if used properly. I typically stop down the flash to about -2 and adjust exposure compensation accordingly. It's a learning process and all I can do at this point is continue reading what the experts are saying and looking at their results.

The Chokoloskee Roseates

For the past few years, I've photographed a flock of roseate spoonbills that reside on Chokoloskee Bay during mid-summer. Mostly, I find them roosting in the mangrove canopies well above eye level. But on occasion, I am lucky to find them on the bay when the tide is low enough for the oyster bars to be revealed. They favor the oyster bar near the busy Chokoloskee Pass channel, so boat wakes can be an issue for both bird and photographer.

I was on the water before 7:30 am. My paddling buddies were off to catch a snook or redfish while I paddled the 1-mile crossing to the roseates. The sky was mostly cloudless, something we hadn't seen in many days. Much rain has fallen these past few weeks and the bay has been generously fed with backcountry fresh water leaving it a murky color and with higher than normal levels. Low tide was approximately 7:30 this morning, yet very few oyster bars were revealed. What is typically an oyster-ridden route to the roseates was deep enough to paddle without any concern for boat-oyster shell encounters.

The bright pink flock was well seen a mile away and once I was a couple hundred yards from them. I pulled out the camera, defogged the lens and metered the exposure before getting closer to the wary birds. I had a new lens, a recently purchased 70-400mm Sony telephoto. I've been wanting that telephoto range in a lens forever and finally Sony built its f4/5.6 telephoto with 400mm capacity. Perfect! Now I could capture the entire flock or single out a few at a time.

I paddled closer on a course that would keep the sun to my back as I photographed the festive-colored birds. I came into shallower water and could clearly see the oyster shells laying below. I slowly and carefully paddled closer to the birds and set up anchor about 150 feet away. They were mostly preening or sleeping; not an excitable group either. This would be challenging to find something remarkable to photograph. Good thing these birds are colorful. Here's a shot of the entire flock and a great blue heron hijacking the photo. A couple other photos below show some of the flock members.

I stayed with the birds as several powerboats motored by, bringing on the waves. Within 30-45 minutes, the oyster bar became more covered with the incoming tide and the birds huddled closer to each other to avoid the water. Eventually, the great blue heron lost its space and fled. the roseates didn't seem to mind me much as I continued to move closer, setting up anchor at each spot. At last, a rather large power boat came through the nearby channel and the waves were too much for the birds as their oyster bar became more and more crowded. One by one they flew away, which can be a glorious photo opportunity. The only problem is that they are typically flying away from the camera. Two remained for several minutes more, than one more flew off and at last, the final bird was history.

The birds flew toward the mangroves that line the waters between Rabbit and Chokoloskee passes. I headed over to an area where several of the birds roosted below the high canopy thinking I might have a better vantage point for them. I paddled beneath the tree ornaments as some became a wary of me and moved to higher branches. The others were mostly sleeping and were not revealing their spoons or showing much interest of anything at all.

After some photos of single roseates who obliged me with nice poses, the sun was high in the sky and I put my camera away. I left the birds and paddle on to explore the area.

On another note, I've been shooting almost entirely with a prime telephoto lens up until recently, since purchasing Sony's first telephoto zoom lens, the 70-400mm (f4/5.6). Thus far, I am very pleased with the sharpness coming out of this lens and most of the shots have been taken at 400mm. I wasn't sure if any zoom lens could be as sharp as the Minolta prime that I've been using. I've been shooting entirely with the 1.4 teleconverter attached to my 300mm Minolta lens, making it a 420mm, f5.6. Compared to the Minolta with teleconverter, I would say that shooting at 400 mm (f5.6) with this new lens is even sharper than the Minolta. However, the zoom lens at 300mm may not match up to the Minolta without the teleconverter attached. I may test that some day to help me decide whether or not to sell the Minolta. For now, the 70-400mm Sony lens is perfect for me and will really show its true colors with enough zoom practice behind me.