Bird Photography Bootcamp

I've learned a lot this month. I recently strayed from my usual and traveled to Costa Rica. I went there with professional nature photographer, Bill Gozansky, who set me up at the La Laguna del Lagorto lodge, deep in the rainforest. He was my guide and teacher for four days. We packed in three full days (from sunrise to sunset and sometimes after sunset) and one half day at the lodge. While I was able to photograph a variety of animals, birds were greatest number, especially tiny birds.

I am a wading bird photographer, so my training has been relatively narrow when it comes to birds. Going to Costa Rica to photograph birds was kind of like a powerlifter deciding to become a runner.  I basically attended a "bird photography bootcamp" that challenged my skills in many ways and made me re-evaluate my photography techniques.

One challenge was background, an important element of bird photography. In the rainforest, everything is lush and green which can be very pleasing as an out-of-focus background. But it can also be very busy and contrasty. My first piece of learning was finding the right position and waiting for a bird to land in the frame.

Most of the birds I photographed were small, quick and unpredictable.  It wasn't until I examined each image from home that I began to see my errors. What I thought was a great shot ended up being placed aside as I noted an out-of-focus head and in-focus torso. Despite attempting to keep the focus directly on the bird's eye, sometimes I just didn't hit it right.

The other experience I had that was so unlike my typical bird photography days here in south Florida was the use of flash, which was almost entirely necessary. The rainforest can be very dark and shadowy and clouds often filled the sky. Low lighting was typical. While I never connected with flash photography for birds well, this experience, along with advice from Bill helped me to overcome my "fear of flash". The result was a collection of new images of beautifully colored birds that I can proudly display.

What resonated most was that I need lots of practice and I need to always be comfortable with my camera and lenses, especially the flash. Nothing about camera equipment should be intimidating to you if you want to be the best photographer you can be. My take-home message is: learn your camera, try new things such as flash, various focus modes, or if you haven't yet, use manual mode. The camera is a mere tool that you require to re-create your vision, you are in total control of it.

Sun Bursts

Photography is a continuing learning process both in terms of technique and creativity. In a significant way, the process is about acquiring tools and tricks, some of them tangible. For instance, since getting more interested in land/waterscape compositions and using a wide angle lens, I have acquired several "gadgets" that lend themselves to the creative process. The most obvious among these are the filters.

Gadgets aside, there are plenty of "in-the-field" technique tricks that I have learned along the way as well. I sometimes think of them as recipes. One recipe is for making a sunburst by using a very narrow aperture, such as f20 or f22. By narrowing the opening through which light enters the lens, light diffracts or bends around the edges of the aperture blades. The more blades in the lens, the more rays created. This effect works best with a wide angle lens or low focal length. The effect is very nice and sometimes quite spectacular looking. A sunburst can add some life to an otherwise boring sun. This could be one that is relatively high in the sky, such as this one.

Or it could be when the sun is low on the horizon and the chances of capturing a colorful sky are higher. Here in Florida, clouds are almost always present. Clouds can make or break a sunset or sunrise image in my opinion. For instance, during summer I often look east over Biscayne Bay to capture the sun rising over the water. What I am typically seeing are low lying clouds directly over the horizon line, covering the rising sun. The result is often a lack of color or specular light (those rays that shine through the cloud breaks). If you get lucky, the clouds are separated enough to allow some of the sun rays to shine through. Add some color to that and it can be amazing. This is also when creating sunbursts can add interest, such as this image recently taken on Biscayne Bay. The sky that morning was not particularly colorful because of the low lying cloud formations, but adding some burst to the sun as it eventually peeked through the clouds created a focal point of interest and helps balance the composition with the two rocks in the foreground.

Trees or rocks in the foreground that offer an opening for the sun to peek through can make a sunburst more interesting. Here in Florida, we have lots of trees. If it is a waterscape the tree will most likely be a mangrove, such as this little one on Biscayne Bay. I created the ripples in the water.

It sounds too easy to make a sunburst in the field. So what is the catch? First of all, narrowing the aperture to f20 or f22 reduces the light significantly. This requires an adjustment to the exposure, either increasing ISO or reducing the shutter speed. I mostly capture waterscape scenes and much prefer long exposures anyway, so a narrow aperture actually assists in that. Photographers talk miles about how a narrow aperture reduces sharpness because of the diffraction of light through a narrow opening. But honestly, I don't see that, I believe it had more to do with the lens quality. With the right lens f20-22 should not be a noticeable reduction in sharpness. The bottomline is, I see no noticeable compromise when setting the aperture to f 20 or f22. Next time you are our photographing the sun, think about the sunburst and give it a try. If you are use to shooting at f8 or f11, consider that you will need 2 to 3 stops more light when you reduce the aperture opening to f22. This will most likely require a slow shutter speed, so make sure you got your camera on a tripod.

Web Designs

Nothing technical here. This is about the Big Cypress in the early morning after a hard rain. It is about paddling gently through a grassy prairie covered in delicate spider webs. It is about those dewy webs that sparkled like diamonds in the foggy haze of the sunrise. I was taken in by the abstract beauty of the web designs and couldn't decide if I preferred frontlit or backlit webs more. Either way, I wanted to photograph them. Thankfully, I brought my macro lens.

 I experimented with several ways of capturing the interesting designs of thin white web lines heavy with water droplets that hung like little jewels on a necklace. The repeating reflections in the tiny droplets were subtle, as is the landscape. As a result of the low lying landscape, creativity is challenged as I wander around assessing the morning light on the grasses and trees and their reflections in the shallow water.

This is where my macro lens comes in handy because sometimes you have to move in and look closely.

So I played with the spider webs, never seeing a spider. Mostly, I handheld my camera, confident in the sharpness of the lens. To enhance the sharpness, I stayed within the len's aperture sweet spot which is f8 to f11. With that range, I had a relatively narrow depth of field for these complicated spider webs. I decided that limiting the DOF could make the web compositions more interesting, though challenging. For this, I focused on a strong point and built the composition around it by moving the camera this way or that until I found one I liked. With parts of the web out-of-focus and some of it in focus, composition was key. Background was often distracting and the reason for not composing an image as I went in close to fill the frame with only the web.

 

 I was also attracted to the low lying webs that hung over the water and their reflections.I tried some images that would include the reflection, but often times a grass poked out of the water and interrupted the web.

I found a beautiful web on a mangrove tree high above the water. I decided to set up the camera on the tripod next to the canoe and attempt to capture multiple images with varying focus points (later to be stacked into one image). This was not easy as there was little room for setting up in a good spot. But, I managed to hang over the edge of the canoe to see the image through the view finder. While viewing, I used manual focus and focused on the left side of the image. Then I worked my way to the right while adjusting the focus point to get a total of nine images. I used the cable release to minimize movement. Once at home, I put the images together and while the focus stacking software worked well, there was an out-of-focus branch that I was not able to avoid. With some significant cropping, I got this image.

Once I examined the images at home, I was amazed at the variety that can be captured. What a productive way to push yourself creatively and technically. As always, when I have my first encounter with a photo subject, I see it as a jumping off point and begin to strategize my next encounter. Such is the Big Cypress.

The Everglades is beautiful, but...

  I recently finished a 4-day trip through a part of the Everglades known years ago as the Bill Ashley Jungles. All within the park, this complicated area is lightly speckled with chickees from Pearl Bay to Watson River. Daily distances traveled between them can be as little as three miles; a perfect set up to spend more time exploring. This is an area of the Everglades that was once known to only the heartiest of the gladesmen, the hunters and fishermen of days long past. Now with satellite images and GPS, the less heartier can manage to get into the jungles; but many still get lost.

In addition to exploring new routes, I wanted to photograph. Without expectation, I was on a quest to capture the landscape. To pull it off, I needed two important elements, clouds and a foreground subject. I've been in here many times, but these elements have mostly eluded me. You see, this area of the Everglades is quite challenging for several reasons. One reason, it is flat. No matter where you are, water and sky dominate, leaving little room for anything except for a thin line of mangroves to separate the two. Harry Truman once said of the Everglades, "Here are no lofty peaks seeking the sky, no mighty glaciers or rushing streams wearing away the uplifted land." He got that right.

This is by far not the first choice for a landscape photographer to pad her portfolio. Doubtful you will see many images of this low lying maze of mangroves and water on 500px among the glorious mountain ranges, dramatic rocky shorelines or picturesque waterfalls. If you really want to photograph this part of the Everglades, your best hope is for clouds in the sky. The Everglades produces dramatic skies which can go up against a mountain range image most days. But, they are unreliable and infrequent during winter months. 

Strong foreground subjects are few and far between in these parts. Best bet is to come here when water levels are relatively low so the grasses and sea floor patterns are revealed. Or maybe get yourself into a spot where a small mangrove tree stands alone. Without an interesting sky as background, you have very few strong elements to place in a landscape image. Sounds fruitless in every way, yet there I was.

And I have very little to show from this trip. It was a short trip comparatively and the wind was relentless. It was the wind that kept us on the chickees in the afternoon; no reason to go back out and explore the area to find an image when there are 20-25 knot winds blowing. At least on Lane Bay chickee I was able to photograph the wind-driven water. The wind created froth trails and with those afternoon cumulus clouds in the sky, I was attracted to the scene. The trails offered leading lines that worked well with the clouds. I attached a 50-lb water container to the tripod to secure it and attached filters to the lens under the midday sun. Using 2-sec exposures, I proceeded to capture the water as the wind drove it toward the chickee. That was about as exciting as it got behind the camera lens.

So why bother? It's the challenge of the off-the-grid Everglades that keeps me going. Take a look at the satellite image above. It's the Everglades, that's why.

Nature photography can be hazardous to your health

Definition of overuse injury: Tissue trauma and chronic inflammation induced by repeated minor trauma (e.g. induced by repetition of same actions, or persistent overload of muscles).

The blog title may conjure up images of photographers climbing rocks, traversing treacherous white waters or getting too close to a wild animal to get that shot. While I am sure there are a number of wilderness-related injuries that come with glory or bragging rights, I bet most do not. I speak of chronic, overuse injuries and the inevitable age-related decline in physical robustness.

I write this using one hand as I recover from carpal tunnel surgery. The surgery took place almost four weeks ago and it has been a long and slow recovery. I have had to place all things relating to my canoe and camera on hold as my hand recovers from the trauma of a 3-pronged surgery.

Years ago I was visiting one of my students interning at a physical therapy clinic. I spoke with a patient, an elderly woman who was receiving ongoing shoulder therapy. She had been a professional photographer in the fashion industry and her shoulder ailments came from years of carrying heavy equipment. How many others have suffered this occupational hazard? Sure, cameras and accessories are lighter and maybe fewer in number compared to the previous photographer's time; but still.

A wildlife photographer requires a big lens. Some of them (i.e., 100-400mm, or 300mm prime with teleconverter) weigh less than  4 lb. With camera, battery, external flash, and 300mm telephoto lens + 1.4x teleconverter, I hold approximately 6 lb. This seems small and falls well below my maximum weight capacity. But, put this into context. Review the image below and note the position of my left hand.

To photograph wildlife, you have to be ready to press the shutter button in an instant, holding the viewfinder to your eye for long periods as you track your animal. When the photo above was taken by my friend Bob Quirk, I was somewhere in the Everglades photographing a flock of 16 flamingos and I treated it like a once-in-a lifetime opportunity. I wanted to capture the interactions of these beautiful and wild birds. I sat there in my canoe for at least 3 hours, pretty much in that position.

I also spend considerable time photographing bird rookeries from my canoe. When I do, I normally sit 3 to 4 hours at a time. The image below was taken at one of those rookeries. Looks like I was attempting to stretch my legs after sitting for a long period. Again, check out the position of my left hand.

After doing this for a year or so, I bought a monopod to support the camera and take the weight off my shoulders, wrists, and fingers. I don't really like to use it as it makes it difficult to maneuver into low positions. After awhile, I left the monopod at home and continued my old ways, carefree and lens holding. On top of all that, I paddle a canoe, requiring many hours of repetitive arm motion and wrist flexion.

So add all that up, hundreds of hours holding 5-6 lb in one position and hundreds of miles of paddling a canoe. Over the past five years, I experienced off and on nighttime numbness in my hands, usually brought on after a long day of photographing birds or paddling. I mostly ignored it. More recently, I received cortisone shots for trigger thumb, two years in a row. All of this in my left hand (see hand positions above). A couple months ago, the nightime numbness came nightly, turned into pain and was not easy to alleviate.  I lost sleep, so I faced it and took my doctor's advice to have the surgery.

Google search "Photography overuse injury" and you will come up dry. Am I the only one? Are you like me and simply ignore the aches and pains and think that its nothing that a couple ibuprofens and a glass of wine can't fix? That's what I use to think. Once I heal, I have new strategies to prevent a repeat and other potential issues. For one, I will begin using a vertical grip on the camera. I will write about that in the future. And oh yes, I will be using my monopod.

A Sign of Winter

It is that time of year when I look forward to the arrival of my favorite snowbird; you know the large white one with a rotund torso supported by very short legs, black tipped wings and a long orange beak. Finally, a cold front hit south Florida, breaking the abnormal period of summer-like temperatures, and with it came the white pelicans. The cold front brought high winds, keeping me on land all weekend. But it was when I was standing on Chokoloskee Island that I looked up at the cloud covered sky to see my first flock of white pelicans of the season. At last! As I watched a flock of twenty soar over me, I momentarily forgot the el Nino forecast of a wet and windy camping season. My first siting of the pellies is a turning point as I begin to anticipate another season of paddling and camping in the Everglades.

If the dolphin pods slicing through the gulf waters symbolize the water experience of the Everglades, the white pelicans with their high wing aspect ratio (wing length squared divided by wing surface area) and ability to soar for hours symbolize everything above the Everglades water. If you spend any time in the gulf waters of the Ten Thousand Islands, the very large back country bays or Florida Bay, you know that the Everglades equals sky plus water, and not much in between the two. Study the water and you will observe marine life of all sorts, tarpon, spotted rays, loggerhead turtles, cormorants, manatee and so on. But look up and you will observe the white pelican, massive with its 10-ft wing spread and even more impressive when you see hundreds of them swirling on the air thermals. They move through the sky by flying in circles, and appear as quickly as they disappear into the vastness of the sky.

White pelicans love to roost on the flats. If you see one, you see dozens. It is sheer delight especially when you spot the crowd a mile away. Their white lumbering bodies provide a brilliant background for the bright orange beaks and legs. I love filling the frame with white pelicans!

Rarely have I encountered a single white pelican but it has happened twice, once on Biscayne Bay and another time on Chokoloskee Bay. Both encounters occurred in the ripeness of summer. The Biscayne Bay bird may have been a juvenile, too young to fly north and mate. On Chokoloskee Bay, the lone bird appeared sick, or perhaps it was just old age and not worth the trouble to fly north. Instead, the bird spent its summer on the bay with the active roseate spoonbills, biding its time. I titled this image "Life Goes On".

Soon, I will be packing my tent and gear to head out camping in the Everglades. I hope to take many trips during the next few months and see hundreds more white pelicans. There are many good reasons to be in the Everglades in the summer (and just as many reasons not to be!), but it is during the winter that it seems full of vigor after several groggy months of heat. This is when I love to be out there paddling for hours on end. The water sparkles from a cloudless sky that is active with birds and it never gets old. Words cannot express the feeling of ending the day under an Everglades sky, and to wake up and watch it greet you again with beautiful wings flying across the horizon the next day. The winter Everglades sky belongs to the white pelicans and they are back.

Return of the Flying Flowers

Over the summer, I spend a good amount of time at Fairchild Tropical Botanic Gardens. A typical morning at the garden would include two or three hours inside the butterfly conservatory, a relatively small space filled with exotic butterflies. I wrote about my learning experiences with the butterflies a few months ago and you can read it here.

During my time with the butterflies, I took hundreds of shots in my attempt to learn and experiment. Of course, 90% of my images got tossed out. But from those shooting experiences, I became more successful at capturing my vision of a butterfly. And so it was that during a recent visit to Fairchild, I limited my shots to a couple specific locations where I thought I might get the most interesting image of a butterfly. I paid attention to the background, and checked the DOF preview before shooting; and I avoided dark shadows and blow out highlights. Consequently, I took fewer shots and spent most of my time watching and waiting.

The image above was the shot I was looking for. I love the palm leaf and its dynamic pattern filling the entire background. To go with the complementary red and green colors, I just needed a colorful butterfly to land within the frame. So I waited and kept my focus on the plant, and set up for a vertical shot while resting the lens on a monopod. Finally, a golden birdwing landed and click, click, click.

Compositionally, I love this image. But unfortunately, it isn't sharp. C'est la vie. In fact, I think I may have captured one acceptable image from the entire morning (see image below). After a few more attempts, I left the butterflies feeling humbled once again. But I also left there with thoughts of new strategies and how I would one day, get that shot.

That's what it's all about; photographing for the shear joy of it, but at the same time, challenging ourselves. And doing it with a vision because it is that vision that keeps us coming back to the same location again and again.