A tribute to the osprey

William Bartram was a naturalist who explored the Florida area and wrote about it in his book "Travels through North and South Carolina, Georgia, East and West Florida, the Cherokee Country, etc.", published in 1791. I learned about his book from a list of favorite books read by Jeff Klinkenberg, a writer for the St Petersburg Times. Klinkenberg writes some of the best Florida stories. I found an electronic version of the book "The Travels of William Bartram" and no further than page 63 I found one of the best descriptions of the osprey and the eagle. The first paragraph describes the eagle, the second paragraph describes the osprey:

"The bald eagle is likewise a large, strong, and very active bird, but an execrable tyrant: he supports his assumed dignity and grandeur by rapine and violence, extorting unreasonable tribute and subsidy from all the feathered nations."

"The last of this race I shall mention is the falco piscatorius, or fishing-hawk: this is a large bird, of high and rapid flight; his wings are very long and pointed, and he spreads a vast sail, in proportion to the volume of his body. This princely bird subsists entirely on fish, which he takes himself, scorning to live and grow fat on the dear earned labours of another; he also contributes liberally to the support of the bald eagle."

An eagle is an impressive bird and when I have the opportunity to photograph it, I take it. On the other hand, it is the osprey that has commanded my respect and admiration the most. Of so many birds that I love, the osprey is my favorite next to the brown pelican; not just for photography, but as a constant companion on my Everglades trips (as is the brown pelican). While I do see several other birds often, the osprey's presence is consistent and it is always a joy to hear its melancholy call, telling me I am near a nest. I believe that Bartram described this bird perfectly.

Recently at Flamingo, I was able to get rather close to an active osprey nest and the mother allowed me a brief glimpse of a nestling, my first siting. Often, I see osprey flying overhead with a fish in claws or nesting materials in mouth. However way I can capture this magnificent fish hawk, I try. Enjoy these photos of one of south Florida's best birds, the osprey.

I almost forgot to add the following; recently I learned of a webcam on a nesting osprey. As of this writing, two of her 3 eggs have hatched. Enjoy the live action here.

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.

Back to the Big Cypress and the Florida Trail Assoc.

The past 2 weekends have been a pleasant diversion from the Everglades and Biscayne Bay, not that I was needing one. For a change, the Florida Trail Association (FTA) was the center of attention. During the halloween weekend, FTA's south Florida regional conference was held at Fisheating Creek. I was asked to give a little talk on the topic of, what else, photographing from a canoe. In addition to the talk, I spent a morning on the creek, one of the most beautiful in Florida.

It was a terribly hot weekend and it didn't help matters that some of our FTA friends came to the conference in their air conditioned travel trailers and vans. By Sunday morning, we were so ready to pack up the hot tent and get back home. We vowed to never car camp on Fisheating Creek again (car camping is an occasional necessary evil in my book). This creek is a gem that must be enjoyed with 2 or 3 days of paddling and remote camping. One of my best nights in Florida was spent on that creek a couple years ago, I still cannot get the sounds of the night out of my head. The beauty of the creek is not just in the water and the cypress trees that grow out of it, but in the nighttime symphony of animal sounds. Read about that adventure here: http://cmierphotoandfitness.net/FEC.html.


This weekend, I was back in the Big Cypress, on the Florida Trail. I helped my FTA chapter that maintains a section of the trail to clear it for use. Several hardy FTA members, including myself, worked on the trail over the weekend, cutting, chopping and mowing the trail. We spent a pleasant and coolish night at the Panther campsite, where I had my Hennesy Hammock set up for sleeping. I hadn't been on the trail in years, and it felt good to be hiking again in the BC where the Florida panthers roam.

No significant photography came out of these weekends. Despite having much of my equipment with me at Fisheating Creek, I was only able to photograph the little time I had on the creek one morning. During the Big Cypress trail work weekend, I took my old point and shoot waterproof Pentax Optio. I thought it would be fun to go back to it, the little camera I once used constantly and with joy capturing photos of these places I love. I carried it in my pocket, my viewfinder-less camera and pulled it out to use on a whim.

I couldn't help but think that maybe I have lost my whimsy with photography since the SLR days of hauling around heavy gear. I still find delight in looking at some of my old P&S photos that were actually pretty good, so I know that Pentax can take decent photos. Maybe I need to inject some of that whimsy and abandonment back into my photos as I pursue a path of acceptance and standards. Maybe I am getting too critical of my photos and am trying to fit a mold. Or maybe I just haven't achieved that acceptable level of artistry and technical know-how. Or maybe I'm just thinking too much about it! Whatever it is, here are a few photos straight from the Pentax, very little postprocessing. I did clone out a bit of tree in one photo and cropped a few others.

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.

In coming tide at Matheson Hammock

With the moon at 97% and low tide at 6:12 am, the incoming tide came in like a river flow all morning. I was on the water just before sunrise and anchored near the mouth of the creek and watched for any type of bird activity in the direction of the horizon. I brought both the a100 and a700 cameras; the 70-400mm on the a100 and the 180mm macro on the a700. I started the day with the telephoto lens with the intention of spending time with the wading birds. Later, I would pull out the macro lens and head into the creek.

The bay was like glass with no wind to speak of. It was already 80 degrees upon arrival and would reach 90 degrees before 10 am. I was alone on the bay and paddled gentled in the shallow grassy waters. I heard the loud squacks from a couple tricolor herons flying among the mangroves and took that as a sign that the birds would soon be feeding in this area. Sure enough, shortly after sunrise the birds came in to the shallows. The usual players were there; yellowcrown nightheron, little blue heron, ibis and tricolor heron. I spotted the black necked stilt pair that I had seen on other days this year. Unlike some of the herons and egrets, these two are extremely skittish and will freeze if there is any indication of a predator nearby. They quickly lose their patience and will move further on, making it difficult to capture these little guys.

In the meantime, I honed in on some ibises, typically less fearful of my presence. A little blue heron was farther out that I could come toward him with the sun in the background. This was a very nice photo set up as the water was calm and smooth. I captured some silhouettes of the bird while it busily caught and ate the water worms that live in the mud.

After awhile I stayed with some ibises; but the tide was rising so quickly that the birds really didn't have much feeding time. One by one, they flew to a farther point. I decided to paddle around the mangroves and see what I could find with the macro lens. I focused on some mangroves that stood alone in the water with the sun to my left. I set the aperture at f16 and bumped up the ISO to 400. I liked what I saw through the viewfinder. The high key look really distinguishes the mangroves and with the smooth water, it was surreal. I played around with these shots for awhile. I paddled on to smaller mangroves that I could isolate. I purposely put ripples in the water that headed toward the tree. The reflection would be broken up by the movement which made an interesting look.

Eventually, I headed into the creek and after paddling 10 minutes or so, the mosquitoes were in high gear and out for blood. I really wanted to use the macro and was hoping to find a female golden silk spider above. They generally weave a hardy web above the creek, well above eye level. This is good because you can find them easily if you look up. My guess is that from toe to toe length-wise, the spider is a good 4 inches long. Quite beautiful too. Today, I paddled in and did not see one with the sun behind me. But as I paddled out with a barrage of mosquitoes following, I finally found one. The spider was facing the sun and the best lighting was on her underside. This could be interesting. I didn't plan to stay long with the bugs so I rifled off a couple shots and left it at that. While shooting, it occurred to me that a really interesting shot would be to get underneath the spider and shoot straight up. Today, I could barely get into a good position, the sun and bugs were not cooperating.

I left the creek and headed back to launch with the sun blazing and a slight wind. I was off the water before 10 am.

Notes on the new lens: love them. the Sigma 180mm macro lens is a joy to shoot with. And the Sony 70-400mm is tack sharp, even with the a100. Two perfect lenses for the bay.

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.