Chokoloskee Bay: the clouds own the sky, part 2

On Saturday morning we were on the water by 7 am. Boats were lined up at the marina as we squeezed our canoes onto the boat ramp. A group called "Ladies, Let's Go Fishing" had a couple boats at the marina, one of which was powered by a local captain. The other boat belonged to one of the ladies; both boats were loaded with several fisherwomen, expecting to get as much fishing in before the weekend ended. The weather looked dubious and the wind, coming from the north, had already picked up some. The sky was covered in clouds and what a spectacle they were making. Once on the water, I got out my wide angle and looked toward the north sky where cumulus clouds were brilliantly illuminated by the sun. They appeared yellowish with some blue sky behind them; a beautiful show over the water.

In the meantime, Vivian and her fishing buddies headed across the bay. One of the "Ladies..." powering her own boat must have been intrigued by the kayak fishermen that were by now getting the fish on. The powerboat headed slowly out toward the middle of the bay, away from the channel. I continued to photograph the glorious sky and watched a rainbow form. I took several shots before the powerboat came into my view. I thought maybe the ladies were heading out to the bay toward Indian Key Pass. But, it seemed they were interested in the area where the kayak fishermen were fishing.

I turned my boat around and headed back toward the marina where several pelicans were roosting on the high pilings. Here, I might find some interesting shots as the rainbow remained in the sky. In the meantime, it became evident that the "Ladies..." boat had gotten hung up on an oyster flat. I can only guess that they watched the kayak fishermen succeeding and thought that might be a good location. Problem is, Chokoloskee Bay was near low tide and no powerboat can pass through the bay unless it is captained by a local that understands these waters intimately. The captain of the "Ladies..." boat successfully poled out before getting too high and dry and soon, the boat was back in the channel heading in the proper direction. I wished them a good day of fishing, knowing dang well the gulf was going to be a killer today. Storms were expected and that cold front was looming.

I decided to head toward the oyster flats where I saw the gulls and terns yesterday. Low tide was an hour away but the flats were already seriously revealed. A group of juvenile brown pelicans were hanging out on one of the flats. I had gotten my telephoto and flash ready to go. The flash would be used all morning as the sun remained cloud covered. I anchored near the pelicans and attempted some shots. I noticed several cormorants roosting in the branches of a mangrove situated by itself near one of the channels. I paddled over, but with the outgoing tide and the north winds, the current was extremely strong. I tried to anchor but nothing caught, so I tried to stake out. The strong current was too much and soon, my boat was driving fast toward the cormorant tree. One by one, they flew off. I hate that when that happens! I try hard to not scare birds, but this was a ridiculous situation. I got myself back on track as a few cormorants decided to come back. Finally, I anchored and stayed with one bird who perched in the clear.

I could hear the thunder off in the distance over the gulf and soon, lightening appeared. It looked to be coming this way, so I decided to paddle back closer to the island. The sun was shining with clouds surrounding it and the lighting was interesting over the water. I captured some backlit shots and turned the other way where several storm clouds were now forming over the mangroves and the front light was magical over the water.

I paddled over to the marina where I thought the gulls and terns might be swarming around and fighting with each other over roosting sites. There were only a few brown pelicans. I hung with them for awhile. The storm no longer appeared to be coming this way, but the wind had picked up stiffly. I decided to head north near Outdoor Resorts and the causeway that lines the bay. There, the oyster beds are absent and the bay floor is mud. Several wading birds were lined up along the shoreline and soon I noticed a few roseates. I tried to photograph them, but they had the advantage. They had the entire length of the bay to feed and would move away from me as soon as I staked out and got close enough for some decent photos. I continued to chase them a few more times and soon decided it was a futile attempt.

This was not a good weekend for bird photography, but the storm clouds were worth all the time on the water. The winds got very strong on Saturday and gusted to 20 knots, remaining steady at 10-15 knots the entire day and on into Sunday morning. There is no point in going out on the water in those conditions. The best part was that the heat and humidity was replaced by a mild temperature. We enjoyed the remainder of the gray covered day by driving to Everglades City and spending time in the museum. There, we looked at some paintings by Lorna Brown, Totch Brown's daughter.

That night, the temperature dropped below 60 degrees and we woke up to a chilly trailer. The winds were still sustained 15 knots, so getting back on the water was not happening. From one extreme to another, this is not unusual for this time of year and it may be a sign of things to come. We think about our camping season as we make our drive back to Miami. We will be circumnavigating Whitewater Bay in December. And they don't call it Whitewater for nothing.

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.

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.

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.