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: Spiders and losing my paddle

Another morning on Biscayne Bay this Labor Day weekend and what could be better. Instead of Blackpoint, I headed to my originally planned destination, Matheson Hammock. As usual, storm clouds covered the eastern horizon as the sky above the city was clear. For the first time in I can't remember, I saw stars in the sky, clear as crystal. But those notorious summer storm clouds lay over the eastern horizon as the rising sun attempted to shine over them. I arrived at Matheson at 7 am, near low tide. Once again, low tide did not look like low tide. I finally realized why that might be. With the great amount of rain Miami had been inundated with in the past several days, the canals were opened for draining right into the bay. Hence, low tide looked like high tide as I loaded the canoe and headed out onto the bay in near dark.

There was enough sunlight to give the water a nice shade of blue and some oranges and reds cast around the low lying storm clouds. A calm morning, the winds did not pick up until later this morning as a storm came blowing through around 11 am. By then, I had loaded up the car and started the drive home as the storm settled over the bay intensely.

Today, I brought both the 70-400mm and the 180mm macro lens, each attached to a camera. First, I would hang out with whatever wading birds I could find. The sun took some time to finally shine over the clouds and by the time it did, I had honed in on a couple of tricolor herons near the launch site. I chased the skittish birds until finally, they seemed to settle into an area near the mangrove playground a few hundred yards south of the launch site. Soon, the sun provided a warm light and the reflections over the calm waters that were speckled with mangrove seedlings provided a classic Biscayne Bay scene. The tricolors allowed me some time but soon flew off probably because of the noise coming from the now busy marina channel about a 1/2 mile north.

Soon, I found a green heron on a mangrove surrounded by the water. I got very close, within 15 feet as it stood on one of the roots preening and staring, preening and staring. I stayed with the bird a good 30-40 minutes capturing several poses, trying to capture it with a clean background. That is almost impossible in this setting. Green herons hide within the mangrove roots, but sometimes they present themselves on a lone root that strays away from the many. After some time, it took a turn and hid on the other side of the tree, away from my view. I was able to photograph the bird well enough and felt satistified as I looked around a found no other birds to photograph.

I paddled about as the storm clouds to the east continued to look lively. Still calm, the winds were mildly coming from the northeast. I shot some scenes at 70 mm and decided to put away the telephoto and use the macro lens. I found a spiny backed orb weaver in its web over the water between a couple mangroves and thought I'd give it a try. I tried to find a good light and an interesting perspective by leaning in and getting below it. The wind started rustling and it became very difficult to focus on the tiny creature. I was able to get a shot with a nice clean background and decided to move on. I had two strikes against me, the wind and no tripod. Nevertheless, there would be other opportunities on the bay, I was certain of that.

I headed into the creek hoping the insects would not be too unfriendly. I had noticed a goldensilk orb weaver in the creek on some other days I had paddled there, but it had been several weeks since. I paddled to the spot where I was certain I had seen it and sure enough, several weeks later, there it was. She was beautiful and with a tall sitting position, I would get my camera lens within a foot of her. The current was a bit strong, a new moon incoming tide with an easterly wind to boot. I had not set up my anchor system and the stake out pole was useless in the deep creek water. So I manuevered using a bit of paddling and a bit of holding onto a mangrove branch. I attempted to be very careful not to move the branches the spider's web was attached to. Once, I was trying to line up for a photo while the spider moved toward its prey, a hungry spider this morning. As soon as I touched the branch, it disturbed the web and the spider quickly ran back to it original spot where it stayed the remainder of my time with it.

Without the external flash, I thought I would experiment with some frontlighting. I set the camera at ISO200, not wanting any more noise than that setting would make. I opened the aperture wide to 3.5 knowing that this was not ideal for such a large creature. But, these settings provided me a shutter speed of 1/200. I know that I can do quite well at speeds between 1/100 and 1/400 (less than ideal) in my canoe with Sony's effective stabilization. So I went for it and took several shots from various angles. I would shoot, and look at the photo zoomed in to determine whether the focus was sharp enough or not. 1 time out of 5 was about the rate I was able to get some fairly decent shots. Then, I took out the external flash and set up the exposure with a fill flash at -2 (the lowest it goes on the a100.) The settings allowed me a faster shutter speed at 1/500 and a slightly higher depth of field at f5.6. This might work. I stayed with the spider waiting for her to move in on a prey or give me some kind of movement. She accomodated somewhat as I continued to manuever my boat back and forth.

I had to occasionally pick up my paddle and work my boat around and the get back to shooting the spider. I would get the spider in a good light and background, start focusing and shoot as quickly as possible as my boat moved the spider out of focus. I kept this up several times. After a few photo attempts, I would grab my paddle and work my boat back to position. Except one time, the paddle was not there. Oh my God, I'm sitting in a canoe without a paddle! The realization that I had absentmindedly let go of the paddle without taking care to put it in place was a bit unnerving. Oh, I had a spare, a cheap retractable metal and plastic job that I bought at Outdoor World for $20. But my ZRE 10-oz carbon fiber, $250 paddle was floating somewhere up the creek, for who knows how long! At least, I hoped it was floating. I put away the camera and lens and proceeded to paddle up the creek to find the paddle. Several hundred feet away, after a couple sharp turns in the creek, I spotted it, face down, floating into the mangroves. Thankfully, the paddle floats, so all's well that ends well!

Now, back to the spider. Time was running out, I could hear the thunder behind me to the east. I put away the gear and paddled back out to the bay. The winds had picked up nicely. The sky was becoming darker as a 4-member family (dad, mom and 2 kids) paddled ignorantly toward it in a double kayak. Back at the launch site, 2 double canoes each with 3 people headed out onto the bay, in time to catch the storm coming up quickly.

Another spectacular morning on the bay behind me, I headed home with the storm looming behind. These are perfect days on the bay, halcyon days of summer. Soon, they will be over, and my time will be mostly spent in the Everglades. Everglades, Biscayne Bay, you got to love it.

Laboring on Biscayne Bay

With yesterday's constant rains, the odds of having a clear-skied morning on the bay were practically zero. Mornings are usually better than afternoons and evenings, so I was hoping for a window of opportunity before any storms came rolling in. Low tide at about a full moon was to be about 5:30 am, perfect for Matheson Hammock.

As we drove east, it was still dark at 6 am, but the rain had stopped. But soon, the rain started again. We decided to drive over to the Deering launch instead of paying the 5 bucks to get into Matheson. The plan was to go to Deering tomorrow anyway, so we would just reverse the order. Old Cutler Rd was dark and long, and the passing cars were many. Where were all these people going at such a time? Leftovers from Saturday night maybe? We arrived at the launch, as did a couple paddle boarders and a hobie kayak fishermen. The sky was almost completely black with a few holes puncturing the horizon and shedding some morning light. And there were the ibises, right on cue, but only a small single flock this time.

The winds were calm and I couldn't help but notice that low tide looked nothing like low tide at all. Once out in the openness of the bay, I noticed the small mangrove island in front of the Deering Estate. It was covered in white, birds that is. Birds roost on this island and today, I was on the water early enough to see them. Usually by now, they have flown off somewhere, but I guess the cloudy darkness made them sleep in a bit later.

I got out my flash and beamer and thought I might be able to anchor somewhere in the relatively calm waters (easterly winds about 5-10 knots I suppose) and capture one or two flying overhead. I like the shadow effect of the combined flash and slow shutter speed, but one must be still to get sharp focus on the head. I wasn't necessarily confident of my prospects but if I managed a good shot, it would be an accomplishment. Soon, the white flock was mostly in the air, coming toward me and over the mangrove shoreline. They were ibises and close enough that I heard the loud swooshing noises of their flapping wings. I tried a few shots but without success. It was too dark for focusing. I continued on in front of the Estate and by now, almost all the birds had flown away. There were about 2 dozen ibises feeding in the grasses near the Deering Estate and I paddled over and hung out with them for awhile. In the meantime, stormy clouds were covering the eastern horizon over Chicken Key. I took out the wide angle and captured some of the 3-dimensional display.

After about 30 minute or so on the water, the winds started to kick up. I paddled over to the mangrove island where several comorants could be heard and occasionally seen flying in circles. I spotted an anhinga or two and one in particular was in clear sites. I captured the graceful female anhinga as she stretched and yawned. With the flash, I captured a few more shots of the cormorants. But these shots were not easy to get. The wind was forceful and the water was a good 4 feet deep. I had not prepared my anchor system and had only my stake out pole to anchor the boat. It wasn't adequate and while trying to get a shot, the current would drive my boat toward the mangroves at full force. Enough of that, this would be no more photo taking today.

I put away all the gear and decided to paddle into the wind and get some practice. The east by northeast wind was coming at me easily at 15-20 knots. Some wave water actually made it over the bow of the Vagabond and it reminded me of our trip to Camp Lonesome last winter. We crossed several large bays in head winds stronger than these and with 300lb of cargo, my boat kept me dry completely. I stroked forward 3 at a time on the left, 3 on the right, short quick stabs in the water. This style, as I kneel leaning forward about 45 degrees on the downstroke gives my boat enough momentum to slice through the water sharply. This is a good feeling to have as we approach our next camping season in the Everglades.

The daily storms are getting old and I am begging for clear skies on the water. Maybe tomorrow. Today progressed into a sunny day and the mass of storm clouds moved further off shore into the Atlantic. Tomorrow, we will go to Blackpoint for some good reasons, but not the best area for photographing wading birds.

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.

Biscayne Bay: Storms and skimmers

What a weekend! Yesterday on Chokokoskee Bay offered some surprises and today, Biscayne Bay did not disappoint. Seems that this year has been more interesting than usual on the bay. I've spotted three birds that I have never seen here before; woodstork, black neck stilt, and today, black skimmer. To top it off, the summer storms have been fantastic to photograph from the water.

It was a perfect tide, low at 7 am as we got on the water at Matheson. There were very large clouds covering the eastern sky and through much of the morning, the clouds would prevail allowing the sun out only on occasion. I noticed several birds to the north near the channel, so I headed in that direction, opposite of my usual route. Little blue herons were out, they tend to feed farther out in the water and are easy to photograph with the morning frontlight casting over the water. Dozens of laughing gulls were in the shallows near the grasses. Amongst them were a few egrets and nightcrowns. I attached the external flash and attempted some flight shots with several gulls and some ibises. And then I saw it, the skimmer, skimming along as a silhouette against the morning sun light. I captured a few shots, watched it come back and circle around near the shoreline. Soon, it flew off, never to be seen again. Surprisingly, there were no others that I could see. The only time I've seen these birds on the water was in Florida Bay off of Flamingo where a large flock hang out in the winter and spring months. Once again, Biscayne Bay surprises me.

I stayed on with some ibises feeding among the mangroves while I kept the flash on. I captured a nightcrown and a tricolor heron as it spread it wings over the water. After a couple hours, the sky started to look black as large storm clouds covered the Miami skyline and were soon on top of me. I quickly put away the equipment as it begain to sprinkle, but not before capturing the storm clouds looming over the bay. I wished I had my wide angle lens today, but did the best I could at 70mm.

It started raining hard as I paddled back to the launch site. The equipment got a bit of rain so I got back to the car to dry everything off. By then, it had stopped raining and the sun was out again. I dried off the equipment, and headed back out on the water. I paddled around the creek area and used the macro lens for some photos of mangroves

There was an enormous storm cooking up out on the bay and mushroomed upward into the sky, splaying out to the north and south. Soon, thunder could be heard and then the lightning could be seen. The storm appeared to be moving more north than west, so I wasn't to concerned. I was only a few minutes away from the car, so I captured several photos of boats passing under the stormy sky. One kayaker had just gotten on the water and was heading south as I photographed him and his lime green boat, contrasted against the black sky. He changed his mind and started heading back north and soon after, decided to go south as planned. While doing this, I continued photographing him and a sailboat that was further out on the bay, much closer to the storm.

We were back in the car by 11 am, in time for the rain to come back. My days on Biscayne Bay will become fewer for the next several months as I begin a new semester tomorrow. I hope to get back to the rookery, maybe next weekend.

Chokoloskee : manatees, sharks and pelicans

Sometimes we get lucky and so far this hurricane season, we've been very lucky. As hurricane Bill headed north, far away from our shoreline, we looked at this weekend (my last before the semester begins) for opportunities to be on the water. I hadn't been for a few weeks and this was looking to be one of those class act weekends in the canoe. We decided to head to Chokoloskee Bay on Saturday, Biscayne Bay on Sunday. Mornings would be perfect, but various storms were crossing the state of Florida with the high pressure trough that also managed to push the hurricane away from us.

We had an outgoing tide all morning, high being around 4:30 am. On the water by 7 am, the sky was clear and it was going to heat up quickly, reaching low 90s before 11 am. I stayed close to the marina for awhile, defogging the lens and watching the eastern sky turn brilliant orange over the tall palm trees that speckle the island. Gulls and brown pelicans were flying about but not much else going on. I headed west toward the long chain of oyster beds that line the bay hoping that the outgoing would reveal them enough for the birds to take advantage of the oyster feeding grounds. It was a new moon, so it would not take long for the water levels to decline.

The area I spent the morning is challenging with the endless oyster bars. If you get on to a good photo opportunity, it's easy to not pay attention to the water below as it becomes shallower with the outgoing tide. A sharp oyster shell cutting into the gel coat of a Kevlar hull is more irritating than fingernails across the chalkboard. I cringed a few times today as I took a few too many chances with the shallow water in attempts to get to better lighting or close up. Nevertheless, hanging out in this area all morning was a blast.

The water was boiling with life. Mullet and smaller bait fish were jumping everywhere as they were being chased by larger fish lsuch as shark and tarpon. I caught a glimpse of a large snout sticking out of the water and for a long time, I chased a manatee that was working the oyster beds. It cooperated, so much so that at one point, I backed off as the animal seemed to pay more attention to me than to its fishing. I've said it before, my biggest fear on the water is getting capsized by one of these behemoths.

Despite the out going tide, there were no wading birds except for one immature blue heron and one great white egret. A few ibises were in the mangroves earlier in the morning, but then went into hiding. I couldn't figure out why no birds. I would at least expect to see the ibises and usually a yellowcrown nightheron or two. On the other hand, the brown pelicans were busily diving and flying overhead.

As the morning wore on, I headed back to the marina where by now, several brown pelicans, mostly immatures, were hanging out in the water and on the numerous pilings. A couple of herring gulls were rushing about, skimming the water for bait fish. As I sat near the pilings for an hour or so, I watched several flocks of brown pelicans fly overhead. Those that hung out on the pilings offered some fun poses and I was able to capture a few of them. By now, the sun was blazing and the lighting was harsh.

The roseates have left the bay, but soon the royal and sandwich terns will be in large numbers. Although nothing more spectacular than a common gull, the terns are always fun to photograph as they fight for space on the dock pilings. Before the camping season begins, I'll be back to Chokoloskee a couple more times.

Return to the Biscayne rookery

What started out to be a very dark morning with large clouds looming overhead as they headed toward the west, progressed into a great day on the water. For the most part, the clouds cleared. Those that stuck around moved west as I sat facing the rookery island with the sun behind me. The young fledglings were showing off their wings, fluttering mostly in the mangrove canopy and occasionally flying overhead circling crazily as they learn to fly. Through part of the morning, the dark clouds in the west provided a brilliant contrast to the birds and mangrove leaves.

I tried something different to get to the rookery earlier than usual. We launched from the canal that runs under 152nd St just before the gated entrance. We unloaded the boats and all the gear next to the unlocked fence. The entrance to the water is about a 70 foot walk through some trampled weeds. I then drove the car to the closest point along the road where parking is not banned, about .3-.4 miles away. Vivian got all the gear down to the water and when I got back, we carried each boat to the edge, loaded up and paddled out. Fortunately, there was enough wind to slow the mosquitoes down. All told, it really didn't take much longer to launch here than the usual Deering Estate site. I might not be inclined to do it alone; if I did, I'd be carrying my 15-20 lb pelican case full of camera and gear from the car.

The winds were gusting by now to 15 knots straight out of the east and the wave action was evident in the open bay at the end of the protected canal. I didn't care because from this point, I was only a half mile away from the rookery. So I arrived earlier than usual as the large thick dark clouds continued to pass over. The bird activity seemed lively this morning as I watched hundreds of ibises fly over head. I see them flying overhead every morning that we've launched from Deering. Today, I was on the water paddling and could see them coming from a distant point past the bird rookery. Lots of cormorants and egrets were flying near the rookery as usual. The wind appeared to die down a bit and as the clouds dissipated, it was warming up to be a great day.

I anchored and staked out near the rookery and pretty much stayed in one spot the entire morning. Today I would need both anchor and stake out pole to stabilize the boat in the winds that seemed to increase again as the morning wore on. This made photography a bit tricky but not impossible. There was lots of activity as the young birds appeared more adult-like. The cattle egret and cormorant adults were still coming in continuously to feed the various nest groups. I saw no cattle egret in flight with nest material but did see some cormorants with branches. I noted more anhinga activity as well, particularly in flight. They seem to like to nest very high in the canopy, at the highest points actually. And within the trees, I could only see their long necks and faces sticking out as they watched their surroundings.

I noticed several black crows in the trees as well and I am not sure if they are nesting or simply harassing the other birds. I watched them on occasion hover over the canopy, like an osprey or kingfisher. They made interesting silhouettes as they fanned out their wings. Maybe these were young birds that recently fledged; I do not know and probably never will.

As for shooting, I never used the flash today and only had to wait on a few occasions for a cloud cover to pass by. Once, it began to sprinkle enough for me to put the camera away, but just as soon as I did, it stopped. About that time, the birds started acting nervous, lots of flapping and flying around. That's also when I ran out of memory and battery power. As I fumbled to change both while protecting my gear from the sprinkles, it all stopped. Up until recently, I had only used as high as 4G with the memory card. For uncompressed RAW files, that yields a little more than 200 images. Now I use 8G but will not increase above that. This is because I am paranoid of losing all my files. 8G gives me over 400 images and that can last me most mornings on the water.

Today, I played around with higher ISO settings so I could get a higher shutter speed. I set the aperture at 5.6 and never changed it. Early in the morning I went as high as ISO1600 on some cormorant shots. They seemed relatively OK in terms of noise but I didn't like the side lighting so didn't keep them. I tried some shots at ISO640 and continued the remainder of the day as they sun rose higher with ISO400. Very pleased with the little noise results! I exposed for the cattle egrets and pretty much ignored the cormorants with just a few exceptions. My shutter speeds ranged from 1/2000 to 1/3200. Today was a treat with the easterly winds as the birds always land and take off into the wind, perfect for trying to photograph them head on. Lots of opportunities for those shots but as the sun rose high, the shadows became more prominent. I practiced shooting only when the bird was banking or offering a full wing spread toward the light.

So it seems the rookery has been successful yet another year. My third year here, and it seems these birds still have a good thing going. I hope to get back again before the summer is over one last time or two. By then, the fledglings should all be flying about and more cormorants should be seen in the water. I love Biscayne Bay.