High wing loads and the diving cormorant

Back in 2008, I spent several hours over the summer at a double-crested cormorant rookery to photograph and observe the birds. In my attempts to photograph them, I immediately learned three things about cormorants; they are terrible at taking off, they fly very, very fast, and their only means of obtaining food is through diving.

I have a very strict rule for photography and that is "know your subject" and use whatever means and resources you have to learn. Of course, time in the field is the best way to learn. When I sat for hours at the rookery photographing, I had lots of opportunities to practice flight shots and learn flight patterns so that I could anticipate some shots. However, I also believe it does not hurt to spend time reading. Through observations and following up these observations with internet and book research on bird physiology and behavior, my bird photography technique has improved. That's not the only reason for my research, I also love physiology and birds just fascinate me to no end.

 

Most recently, I was reading up on flight dynamics of birds in the The Sibley Guide. From this reading, I had one of those "AHA!" moments, and it was about the cormorant. I finally put 2 and 2 together and realized the connection between the cormorants flight speed and the fact it must dive for food. Here is my best explanation, and that is cormorants have relatively high wing loads.

 

Wing load is the ratio of the birds body weight to the area of its wings. For a bird, the cormorant is relatively heavy and although its wings can spread 3-4 feet, the wings are not large enough to overcome its heavy body. What this means is that the cormorant performs poorly in flight. Unlike the white pelican that has a relatively low wing load and can therefore soar for periods of time without flapping, the cormorant must overcome its high wing load with great speeds (which provide greater lift) and continuous flapping. It's also interesting to watch them take off and land. A cormorant taking off looks desperate as it violently flaps and uses its webbed feet to push off the water. The landing looks just as desperate as the bird must slow down from very high speeds and do so quickly by using its feet to skid across the water.

 

There is another reason for the cormorants poor flight abilities and it is the fact that its feathers are easily water-logged, unlike many other birds that have waterproof feathers. It has to do with the fact that the cormorant is a diving bird that captures it's prey in the water, and can dive to depths of 20-25 feet. In this regard, buoyancy is not a good thing, so the heavier body and water-logged feathers provides the cormorant the means to dive efficiently and quickly. This is also why they spend lots of time perched with wings spread out to dry the feathers.

And that's it! High flight speed and terrible take-offs and landings are characteristics of a successful diving bird. So if you want to practice flight shots, challenge yourself and look for the cormorant.

 

 

 

Flamingos sited in Everglades City

One of my images of a flock of flamingos is being exhibited at the Museum of the Everglades through the month of November. Here is a iphone shot of the exhibit that includes the flamingo image hanging on the wall.

The Friends of the Museum put on an artist reception for me on Saturday and I was pleasantly surprised by the turn out. Interestingly, the photo above includes three people that are very intimate with the Everglades; John Kalafarski (park ranger and tour guide) on the right, and Bill Leonard standing next to him. That's my friend Jimmy on the far left, he is an experienced Everglades fishermen. One can only imagine what Bill and John were discussing, but Bill has been paddling in the Everglades for decades (which is an understatement). He helped to build the chickees back when the Wilderness Waterway was new to the park.

Back to the flamingos. One of the best parts of the opening were the questions I received about the images because that gave me permission to talk about the Everglades and Biscayne Bay. My favorite question was "Where did you get that shot of the flamingos?". Someone even asked if I took it somewhere in Miami. Not exactly in Miami.

If was a typical month-of-June day, and it began in Flamingo, Everglades National Park.

At the Flamingo marina I met a friend, Bob Quirk(one of the swamp ape volunteers that recently cleared out some overgrown paddle routes in the park) that would paddle with me back into the area where he had seen the birds earlier that month. In the pre-dawn hour, I drove my car about 1 mile through a pot-hole infested dirt road that led us into the deep, mosquito-infested forest. Before getting out of my concealed, air-conditioned sanctuary, I put a frozen Camelbak bladder into a small backpack and put that on, then I put my bug jacket on over my wide brimmed hat and long sleeve cotton shirt. I velcroed my pant leg openings around my wool socks and put on a pair of thick cotton gloves. Instead of wearing my light weight polyester camp pants that would not provide sufficient protection, I wore heavier canvas pants for this day.

Completely sealed and protected from harm, I stepped out of my car to be immediately greeted with the loudest most incessant high pitched sound I have ever heard. It was a mosquito festival and I was crashing their party. Once I got over that shock and realized that they were only buzzing and could not penetrate my barrier, I went about my business of getting the boat with camera gear into the water.

We had a 3-mile paddle before arriving at the area the flamingos were seen. Once in that area, the morning sun was out and the temperature was steadily rising. I never removed my bug jacket, but it was not so bad with the frozen Camelbak to keep me cool. It did not take long before I was able to drink from it.

The birds were not in the spot Bob had seen them. The space was empty of pink color, but I was kind of happy because it did not provide good lighting. We continued to paddle and just when my heart began to sink with disappointment, I spotted a large pinkish aberration several hundred yards away that stood out significantly against the greens and browns of the mangrove shoreline. There they were, 16 of them, and they were in perfect light. I approached them very quietly and staked out my boat at a distance of about 100 feet or so from the birds. It was perfection. The large birds were feeding along the grass and mud and so much interaction between them was observed. It was mesmerizing to watch them.

Long story short, I stayed with them for a good 3 hours. The sun blazed hot, but I never felt an ounce of discomfort. It was one of my best experiences in the Everglades.

Working with negative space

For several years, I have experimented with images that include negative space surrounding the birds. I started this on Biscayne Bay when the sponge farm sticks were planted in the water and gulls, terns and cormorants would roost on them. I had lots of fun photographing the scenes on calm days when the water and sky appeared as one big white space and the birds and sticks became silhouettes.

Now, I look for these opportunities more often. On Florida Bay near Snake Bight is a large flat where hundreds of birds spread out over the open water. In the morning, it is very difficult to paddle into a position where the bird are front lit. So sometimes, I do the opposite and paddle on the west side of the mud flat so that I am facing the sun. With this scene, all the wading birds are silhouetted. With lots of birds spread out, I adjust the aperture so that I get a long depth of field, f16-f22. Then, I increase the ISO and/or reduce the shutter speed to brighten up the water as much as possible without blowing out the dark birds.

For post-processing, I adjust the water and sky to become completely white, and adjust the dark birds so they are completely black.  Then, I add or reduce the space around the birds to get the composition I want.

There is something very appealing about images that have lots of negative space and are monochromatic. For me, it is the simplicity that is very calming and unchallenging. We get enough stress and challenges throughout our lives, so this type of image just makes life simpler, that's all. But mostly,  it is the lovely form of a bird that attracts me to these scenes.

Firmly on Terra Firma

Occasionally, I photograph without a boat. In fact, I use to do that a lot. Years ago, I spent many hours at Crandon Gardens in Key Biscayne learning how to photograph birds and other animals (iguanas, for instance) on land. I did the same at Fairchild Gardens where I also learned to use a macro lens and flash. On occasion, I would head out to the Anhinga Trail, also where I learned to photograph birds (up close and personal, which never happens when I am in a boat) and spent time doing so with other photographers that taught me many things.

Recently, I have been going back on old images and some of them have been overlooked primarily because I didn't photograph them from a canoe. In keeping with the theme, I passed over many images and am now considering another category of images to display, those that were taken while the canoe was taking a break and resting at home.

The small collection of images comes from my visits to the Anhinga Trail and the nearby Royal Palm camp area. I examine these photos with the intention of spending more time photographing out of the canoe; but of course, the canoe will always come first.

Back to the Everglades

After holding my breath for several weeks, I finally got back to the Everglades National Park last weekend. It was a perfect day to be out there. We were on Chokoloskee Bay before sunrise and the full moon shone bright over the bay that was interrupted with large oyster bars. My entire morning was spent paddling around the labyrinth of islands that separate the very large Chokoloskee Bay from the even larger Gulf of Mexico. It didn't matter to me that I was not photographing birds (they were so uncooperative), I was content simply paddling with the tides.

I have many memories on Chokoloskee Bay, the waters where I learned to kayak and canoe and where I learned to photograph from a boat. It is not an easy place to photograph, in fact it is down right harsh. The bay is riddled with oyster bars, very sharp oyster bars. Of course, these are where the birds are found and if I wanted to photograph them, I had to learn how to ease my way toward them while making sure my boat did not get sliced to pieces with the unrelenting oyster shells.

Back in 2007, I shot one of my favorite images on Chokoloskee Bay (next image below); I title it "Life Goes On" and it will be displayed soon at the Pauline Reeves Gallery in Everglades City. This is a special image of a white pelican in the summer. White pelicans normally are not found on the bay in the summer; in March they head north to breed and nest. In October, they arrive again to stay in the warm Everglades during the winter months. I guessed that this bird was old or sick and could not make the migration that year.

Chokoloskee Bay is also my first introduction to the Ten Thousand Islands. Within the boundary of the park, the Ten Thousand Islands are accessed by first crossing this very large bay. In the summer,  the daily storms can make the bay treacherous, but this can also be a beautiful time on the bay. I spent many summer mornings on the bay watching storms ride in before I high tailed it to land.

 Whenever I need a quick Everglades fix, Chokoloskee Bay is where I go. I always took for granted that I would have the Everglades National Park whenever I wanted and it was so easily accessed from Chokoloskee Island. But not anymore. I will never take the park for granted again.

The mysterious mangal

One of my favorite books is a small (5x8), 64-page photo book titled "Mangroves: Trees of the Sea" by Jerry, Idaz, and Michael Greenberg. I think I found it at an Everglades visitor center among several books on display. What amazed me about the book is the spectacular photos of the mangroves of Florida, including several underwater images of the mangrove roots that serve as nurseries for countless numbers of marine animals.

Quite often, I pull this little book off the shelve when I am looking for specific information, terminology (propagules are seedlings, right?), and most of all, inspiration. The images are so breathtaking that I find it difficult to believe they exist only in the book. At any rate, when it comes to photographing, I find mangroves to be the most difficult subject for me. It might be because I spend almost all my photography time surrounded by mangroves. They are everywhere; you can't spit without hitting one! Consequently, it is easy to get desensitized to them. But also, they are shadowy, muddy, oyster-encrusted, and messy and unkempt in their green and brown presentations. Not very photogenic at first glance!

But oh, those prop roots are very intriguing and when the light hits them just so, they do become photogenic with their sensuous shapes. I am not sure how to describe it, but it makes you want to explore their mysteries through the lens. Over the years, I have attempted to do this in various ways. At first it was to illustrate the wall of mangroves that line the waterways I paddle through, day in and day out. The two images below are examples. This is OK, but how much of that can one do without being repetitive?

Because I photograph wading birds, I get very up close and personal with the mangroves and am drawn to the possibilities of photographing them in that way, mud and all. This led me to try the "Intentional Camera Movement" technique from which I have created several mangrove blurs (including a wider angle shot of a creek). I discuss the technique in another blog so will not go into it here, but let's just say that it is harder than it looks and I have a long way to go to perfect it. But, I continue to learn and experiment, and will always seek a fresh way to present the beauty of the mangrove.

As long as I live in south Florida, I will continue to photograph mangroves. They are the trees of the sea and I love them.