The Roving Photographer

Simple Clicks – Loon at Lackawanna

Brent Pennington — Thu, 16 May 2013 15:00:00 +0000

I started this post writing about how I’d finally seen my first Common Loon up at Lackawanna State Park. It would have been only the second loon I’ve ever seen and the first locally. But I kept looking back at the photo thinking that it wasn’t right and, to satisfy my nagging doubts, I did a quick check. Turns out I was right – as I should have known, Common Loons have all-black heads. This is not a Common Loon.

But it is still a loon. Actually, a Red-throated Loon, which is a great deal more exciting, seeing as they are pretty rare in this area! Red-throated Loons have a very narrow range below the Arctic, the southern most end of which extends through a small part of New York and Pennsylvania. So this one is definitely a migrant, stopping over on his way to his (or her) northern breeding grounds.

This is the real thrill of wildlife photography. Not only am I able to make images of all manner of critters (and sometimes even good photos), but time and again I’ve been able to find species that are uncommon, or even outright rare, in my area. And that’s pretty exciting. Photography is my doorway to being an explorer which, at least for me, is as valuable as the images I come home with.

A tale of two sandpipers

Brent Pennington — Thu, 16 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

Sandpipers are fairly uncommon in Pennsylvania during any time of the year. Your might assume that these wading shorebirds are at home on oceanic beaches, which is a habitat that the Commonwealth lacks. Turns out that’s not quite the case, and some species actually prefer marsh, field, and even wooded environments.

I’ve encountered more sandpipers than usual this spring, or at least more than are usual for me. I’m not sure if this is because there are more sandpipers passing through the area this year or if it’s just because I’m able, via the kayak, to reach them more easily.

In either case, I’ve so far had the chance to photograph several individuals of two species: the Spotted Sandpiper and the Solitary Sandpiper.

These two varieties of sandpiper look quite a bit alike, being about the same size and having similar coloring and markings. At quick glance, you might even think that they were the same. The defining feature, at least in my eyes, is the difference in bill coloration between the two species.

The Spotted Sandpiper, pictured above, has an orange bill with a dark tip; the Solitary Sandpiper has an all-dark bill. Of course the differences go much farther than this: the Spotted has a more splotchy breast, compared to the Solitary’s cleaner breast; and the Spotted tends towards darker spots on its back whereas the Solitary has white spots.

I find it easiest to focus on one particular trait when it comes to identifying like species, so for me it was the difference in bill coloration that stood out the most and let me quickly make a positive identification of each (and let me know that the second sandpiper I saw was different from the first).

So what are they doing here in PA? Well, based on my observations, mainly foraging for food. Whereas the Solitary Sandpiper focuses mostly on insects, the Spotted will eat essentially anything it can find (insects, snails, crustaceans, small fish) and both remain busy hunting amid the marsh grasses and along the shorlines. The Spotted Sandpiper will nest in this region, so his focus is on getting enough food to sustain a nest; the Solitary Sandpiper is a migrant and is only here to replenish his fuel supply before continuing on to his nesting grounds in the northern taiga.

So there you have it. Two sandpipers who appear pretty similar at first but turn out to be quite different when you get to know them. I still find it a little surprising that the Spotted Sandpiper lives here, as I had always thought of sandpipers as being exclusive to the seashore. Just goes to show that nature is a lot more diverse than we think most of the time!

Simple Clicks – on the river

Brent Pennington — Tue, 14 May 2013 15:00:00 +0000

Monday evening, 6 May, became my first river outing in the new kayak. I put in at Falls, PA, and paddled three miles up the Susquehanna River to a point where a large island divided the river. The division caused the current to intensify to the point where I just could’t paddle through it; besides which, sunset was approaching, so I turned around and floated back with the current.

Paddling on the river was much different from paddling on the lakes and ponds and, for the first hour or so, I was rather unsettled by it. The river is much more dynamic. You can feel it with each paddle, even when you’re no in the main current. The water feels harder when you bite into it. It took a while for me to begin establishing a comfort zone but, by the time I reached the island I was starting to feel more at ease. Enough so that on the trip downstream I got the camera out.

While there was a surprising range of wildlife present during my trip, I opted to keep the 14mm mounted to the camera and focus on getting some scenic shots. The way the evening sun fell on the hills and river was very lovely and the sky was filled with perfect clouds.

In the end it was my longest trip yet: just over 6 miles, taking about three hours. And it felt good. I can definitely see why people like to paddle on the river. The next goal will be to find a way to put-in upstream and come down to a point where someone can meet me.

Merganser troubles

Brent Pennington — Tue, 14 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

The female Common Merganser pictured above has become one of my regular subjects up at Lackawanna State Park. She hangs out in the marsh at the northern end of the lake, where the South Branch of Tunkhannock Creek empties into it. For several weeks in a row I’ve found her sitting on the muddy shoreline along with a Canada Goose and a male Mallard.

So what’s the trouble? If you click in the photo after the break for the larger view, look closely at the area under her beak, where there’s some sort of long, fleshy tumor dangling from her chin.

I’m using the word “tumor” loosely here because I’m really not sure what it is, but in my entirely non-expert opinion, it certainly seems to fit the definition of a tumor. At first I thought it was something stuck to her, a strand of reed or something.

But when I examined it closer in the first batch of photos, it became clear that it’s something growing out of her. When I saw her the second time about a week later the growth was still there, so it must be a permanent feature.

I’m have no clear concept of what caused it, or even of what specific sort of tumor it might be. There’s the usual range of possible culprits: toxins/pollutants in the environment/food sources or random genetic mutation both come to mind. When it comes to pollutants in the environment, goodness knows there’s enough of them out there to make this a real possibility.

It’s hard to say what the future holds for this gal. Right now she seems to be lively enough. And she has survived to this point, which is a good sign. The tumor doesn’t appear to be affecting her mobility or her ability to hunt and eat.

Simple Clicks – Flowering Dogwood

Brent Pennington — Sat, 11 May 2013 15:00:00 +0000

I was at Courthouse Square in downtown for 1st Friday, getting ready to cover “Pride & Prejudice’s” activities that night, when I came across this Flowering Dogwood tree in the square. I’ve always loved Flowering Dogwoods and think they may be the most lovely of all the flowering trees.

I shot these with the E-M5 + Leica 25mm at ISO 200 & f/1.6 in manual mode. I can’t claim a lot of deep thought during the process; it was more a matter of moving around the tree and framing different compositions depending on the mix of blossoms, light, and shadow. It definitely helped that I was shooting around 7pm, when the city was already mostly in open shade. The courthouse behind the tree had some direct light on it, but most of the dogwood was evenly balanced in the shade.

Plus there was the added perk of having my brother with me and proving him wrong; he’s a wildlife major in college and has completed two years of courses, many of which focus on learning to identify pretty much everything in nature. When I identified it as a Flowering Dogwood, he disagreed. But a quick check online via my phone proved me right. Victory is sweet!

Predators & Prey

Brent Pennington — Sat, 11 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

Predator: the Great Blue Heron. A large and somewhat ungainly bird in flight, or especially if you’ve ever seen one land on a pine bough. They’re a bit skittsh and, when startled or irritated, let out a cartoonish squawk as they take off and fly away amid a flurry of beating wings. But put one in its element, a shallow marsh or shoreline, on a still morning when there’s prey nearby and watch the transformation.

The gangly bird becomes a precision weapon, virtually impervious to all outside distractions. I’ve watched GBHs become so engaged in hunting that they’ll ignore my slow approach; their focus on their intended meal is almost unshakable. They move forward with slow, very deliberate motions. There’s so much patience involved that it creates tension in the air that you can feel.

Then they’ll uncoil that long neck of theirs faster than you’d think possible to snatch a fish or frog from the marsh. As soon as breakfast is in their beak, however, some of the awkwardness returns. The intensity of the hunt fades and the heron is faced with the challenge of getting whatever it just caught down its gullet, which cane be entertaining to watch, the repeated attempts to properly align a fish and swallow it. Sometimes said fish will get halfway down and get stuck; the heron will bring it up again, adjust the orientation, and swallow once more.

Prey: the American Bullfrog, which is a common food source for the Great Blue Heron. Bullfrogs are common in the marshes and along shorelines beginning in mid-May and extending through the summer months. You’ll often find them sitting with just their head and eyes above the surface in shallow areas, usually surrounded by algae, plant life, or detritus (although they do occasionally sit on lily pads).

If you’re like me, your first clue that a Bullfrog is near is usually the splash they make as they leap away and dive below the surface to what they hope is safety from predators. As I kayak into their habitats it isn’t unusual for several to finally abandon their stationary postures and flee in this manner. Due to a combination of their stillness and camouflage, I often look right past them until then, which makes it difficult to get a photo of any but the bravest who hold their ground.

It’s an intricate relationship between predator and prey, heron and frog. Sometimes one of them gets lucky, which usually means that the other doesn’t. Nature works like that. But the dynamic is always interesting and always worth studying.

Adobe’s Creative Cloud

Brent Pennington — Thu, 09 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

The news about Adobe’s new Creative Cloud model is pretty much common knowledge now; there’s been plenty of posts about it on other sites. Some of those just reiterate the Adobe PR release and others take a personal stance. If you haven’t read much about this yet, I’ve linked to the highlights after the break. I won’t bother with a summary, since the links will cover that. But if you want to skip the rest of this and get the 5-second version, it’s this: no thanks.

Scott Kelby does a good job explaining the new model (and dispelling some of the inaccuracies about it) in his post here: My Take on Adobe’s Announcements Yesterday at the MAX Conference

DPReview shared an interview with the Adobe VP of Creative Solutions, where he responds to the negative backlash (mainly by telling us how good this is and not answering questions): Photoshop CC: Adobe responds to reaction

Scott Bourne of Photo Focus takes a much more aggressive (and adversarial) stance in defense of the Creative Cloud in his post (and by the time he hits the comments, he becomes a jackass): 10 Reasons The Haters Are Mad About Adobe Creative Cloud

Admiring Light shares some thoughts that fall into line with my own: Adobe Goes Cloud Only – They’re right about one thing…

And finally a poll over at Fredmiranda.com that might indicate that this isn’t so bad: Stay with Adobe?

[Correction: I posted a link to the wrong poll; the correct one is here (What are you plans re-Adobe CC?) and the outcome is clearly against CC - only 1% of the 200+ voters actually like the new CC method].

Me?

It’s no secret that I’ve been at odds with Adobe for some time now. I did just upgrade to CS6 last month with the expectation that this would likely be the final upgrade that I was able (or willing) to make, given their new upgrade policy. Well, that policy is out the window now that the Creative Cloud has become the only avenue for upgrades after CS6.

Which means I’m out. I simply refuse to lease software. Like most leases, it’s an empty expense – not even an investment – because as soon as you end the lease, you’re left with nothing to show for it.

Up to this point I’ve been able to upgrade every few years for $199, which helps spread the cost out and make it manageable. Under the CC model, Adobe wants me to shell out $20 each month, forever. And if I cancel then I’m back to whatever version I owned prior to joining the CC (assuming I still have the disk/installer at that point).

Admiring Light is right – for individuals/companies who use multiple Adobe products, CC is a great deal. They’re probably thrilled. But for the lone photographer, the freelancer, the hobbyist – people like me – who only use Photoshop, it’s a slap in the face.

From a financial standpoint it’s a bad deal. From a user standpoint it’s a bad deal. And from a trust standpoint, well, let’s just say that I wouldn’t trust Adobe with a bent nickel at this point, so I certainly don’t want to spend this kind of money to trust them any further.

I believe that Adobe has become greedy. They have a near-monopoly on all manner of software, and in the photography world there isn’t really a strong, viable alternative to Photoshop. So up to now we’ve all gone along with whatever Adobe has done because we didn’t have much of a choice. But the combination of the Creative Cloud and the enormous arrogance Adobe has showed in their interviews and responses is enough.

I’m done. Whatever I buy after CS6, it almost certainly won’t be another Adobe product. (Even if Adobe rescinds the CC-only model, I still don’t think I’d trust them again.)

My sincere hope is that someone finally steps forward and challenges Adobe with a strong Photoshop alternative. GIMP, Paintshop, something new – any of them have a ready market of pissed-off former Adobe users who are eager for an alternative. Give us the tools and abilities we need and we’ll be interested. (And let’s face facts here, I probably only use 40-60% of Photoshop’s features/tools, and I suspect most other photographers are right in line with me.)

To that end, Lightroom is still available as both a Cloud option and as a traditional software purchase. I don’t care for it personally (maybe I should try it again?) but I know it does everything that many photographers need. But here’s my question: how long will it remain available as a traditional option? Do we want to trust that Adobe won’t also make it cloud-only? I don’t, not after this.

And since I’m wishing here, let’s make this Photoshop alternative Linux-compatible, so I can ditch Microsoft too.

Simple Clicks – River Otters

Brent Pennington — Tue, 07 May 2013 15:00:00 +0000

I’ve been trying to write a post about these guys since I saw them over a month ago and just haven’t been able to come up with anything that accurately expresses the thrill and excitement of getting to see them in the wild. So in the end, I’m just going to share the two photos I got and tell you outright that it was incredibly exciting to get to see them up close in their natural habitat, and that I cannot wait to meet them again!

I first saw the otters here several years ago. It might even have been the first autumn I lived in Pennsylvania. For about three weekends in a row I’d go up to the pond and they’d be swimming around near the boat launch and fishing area. They always ended up between me and the sun, so the photos always suffered: bad lighting and too short a lens. Then, for about three years, I didn’t see them at all.

The otters put in an appearance during my very first outing in the kayak, as if to welcome me to the water. They are adorable, of course, but also very curious, which tempered their fear of me. At times you could tell that the three of them couldn’t decide whether to hide until I left, or maybe climb right into the kayak and check me out. In the end, the settled for ducking out in front of a fallen tree segment, then hurrying back to hide behind it and peer out at me.

Once again the lighting was terrible and the photos suffer from being shot at ISO 3200 in dim conditions. I can only hope that the next time I encounter these guys, it’s on a sunny morning where I’m able to get a lot of good, sharp, well-lit images!

Shooting info: E-M5 + Oly 75-300mm, f/6.7, ISO 3200, manual mode.

Canada Geese

Brent Pennington — Tue, 07 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

Like the Red-winged Blackbirds I wrote about last time, Canada Geese have found themselves in front of my camera pretty often lately. They’re something of an unexpected subject, or rather it’s unexpected that I’d come away with photos that I was happy with.

Canada Geese aren’t the most wild of critters. I overheard some fishermen the other night refer to them as “giant winged rats.” They cursed the geese out when they landed nearby and it’s a common sentiment. A few years ago I watched my university do battle with them. They spent a long of money trying to keep them off the sports fields, to no avail.

You know the old saying, “like shit through a goose?” It’s a saying for good reason. The two things that geese seem to do is eat grass, and process said grass into, well, goose shit. They make a mess wherever they congregate, and those places are often the exact places they’re not wanted. Like golf courses, or the grassy areas inside highway cloverleafs.

The funny thing is that when you get Canada Geese back to where they’re supposed to be, they’re much more interesting. And even rather photogenic.

In their native environment – ponds, lakes, anywhere with open water, really – Canada Geese are the air-raid sirens of the local environment. As soon as anything disturbs them, they announce it to the world with a series of loud honks. And if the disturbance (like, say, a photographer in a kayak) doesn’t respond to the honking, then the geese usually relocate with a lot of flapping and splashing. And by that point, every critter within range knows something is amiss.

The other interesting thing I’ve noticed is that when they’re not standing in a grassy field somewhere, Canada Geese are actually very well suited to their environments. They blend in well with the vegetation and, even given their large size, become much less noticeable.

So much so, in fact, that I nearly pulled up next to one two weeks ago. There was a goose in the water, swimming a ways in front of me with his head down low to the surface. It’s a defensive posture, but I couldn’t tell what he was being defensive about, as I wasn’t near enough to provoke that kind of response. What I didn’t realize was that his mate was nesting on the stump I was almost abreast with.

She wasn’t happy; I didn’t see her until she jumped up and dove into the pond, revealing her eggs. Until that moment, she blended in with the weathered gray wood of the stump, tucked down into the hollowed out center, so well that I didn’t notice her.

Point of interest: in this case, she really was a she – and her mate a he. Females do most of the nest building and all the egg incubating while the males guard the females and the nests.

As soon as I realized what I had blundered into, I grabbed a single photo then started back-paddling, putting some distance between myself and the agitated geese. The good news is that as soon as I moved off, the geese calmed down and the female returned to the nest.

After that, I was much more careful as I continue around the pond. Which paid off, since I found two more nests. The patrolling males are usually the initial tip-off, although in some cases they don’t do a very good job. At the one nest, the male was quite distant – enough so that I didn’t know he was even patrolling. Fortunately I saw the nest before I got too close.

On Fords Pond stumps seem to be the preferred nesting site. They’re a safe bet, surrounded on all sides by water with recessed centers, almost as if they’d been designed for the geese. In most other places the nests are constructed, primarily of vegetation. Sites with good, 360* visibility are preferred. (According to the All About Birds page, muskrat houses are a common choice, although I’ve never seen this myself.)

So I guess the take away here is that Canada Geese, in their natural habitat, can make interesting subjects. They can even have something of a regal look, being some of the larger and, to an extent, more approachable waterfowl that a photographer may encounter. It’s the same as with racoons and bears; seeing them in the wild is a thrill, but when they raid your trashcans, they’re a nuisance.

And with the Canada Geese, it is a thrill to work with them in the wild.

Eagles in Spring

Brent Pennington — Sat, 04 May 2013 15:00:22 +0000

It’s an irony not lost on me that, after my eagling expeditions this past winter, where I drive over an hour to the New York boarder and then another 20 or so miles in to the reservoir and Plank Road, some of my best eagle photos of 2013 have come from the pond 20 minutes away. From my kayak, with the birds in closer proximity than they get on all but the luckiest days up on the Plank.

I guess that’s how nature works. Unexpectedly, most of the time, and all too often when you’re not prepared for it. The immature Bald Eagle above? I found him at Ford’s Pond a couple of weekends ago, entirely by accident.

I was paddling across the pond just after sunrise, following the eastern shore. The sun was just above the trees and just to the right of my line of travel, coming in through the trees and effectively blinding me. That’s the one hard thing about being on the water: where a hat with a good brim will shade your eyes on land, on the water the sun’s reflection bounces up under it and right into your eyes.

So I’m paddling pretty much blind to whatever is ahead of me until I reach the shore, near some large, yet-leafless trees. I let the kayak drift, taking a quick rest, a sip of coffee from my travel mug. The kayak is turning to starboard, opposite my last paddle. I look up into the branches of the tree ahead and above and there’s the eagle. Damn.

I was able to get the camera out of the Pelican case and fire off a few shots before back-paddling away from him. It was a gorgeous moment; the light was perfect on him, I was able to capture blue sky behind him, and he posed without objection. Actually, I don’t think he cared at all that I was there. He barely even looked at me, just went about his eagle business, surveying the pond like he owned it. Which as the apex-predator-in-residence, I guess he did.

I knew that the eagles had been at Fords; I’ve heard stories from people for years and only this past few months started to see them myself. (Paul got some amazing shots of one out his car window, which he’ll be sharing soon.) A few weeks back, on one of my first outings, I’d seen four of them in a nearby tree. But the flock seemed to have dispersed as we moved deeper into spring and on this morning, I wasn’t even thinking of seeing them. (Actually, I was really looking for the otters.)

Four juvenile Bald Eagles share a perch in early spring.

So an unexpected moment that turned out pretty darn well in the end. I haven’t seen any more eagles up at Fords since that morning; it seems that the Ospreys are running the pond now. Although up at Lackawanna State Park, the Ospreys are getting a run for their money from at least one Bald Eagle, as I shared in this post. This final image is from that adventure, after the Osprey had fled. The eagle made one last pass fairly low over the lake and I was able to capture it.

The Roving Photographer

Simple Clicks – Loon at Lackawanna

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