“Great Egret Portrait” — A “head shot” of a great egret.
Great egrets are a common sight here in California, from the coastline to inland wetlands and creeks. Their distinctive white plumage makes them stand out in almost any landscape. It doesn’t hurt that they are quite large, too — the largest of several different egret species. I photographed this one at a wetland area in California’s Central Valley on a foggy day that softened the light.
In some ways it is easy to photograph them, but in others it can be tricky. It is a bit easier to fill the frame with an egret since the birds are large. They also tolerate human presence… up to a point. So, it isn’t too hard to photograph them on the ground. Catching them in flight is a different matter. Most often they will be flying away from me, and when they take off they often do so suddenly and without much warning.
Two white-faced ibises interacting in a San Joaquin Valley wetland pond
The white-faced ibises have intrigued me since before I knew what they were — in fact, I suppose I could say that I photographed them before I realized that they existed. Some years back, on my very first more or less accidental exposure to bird photography, I found myself “out there” on an early morning, with no more clue about what was going on than “someone told me I should go here and see the birds.”(That someone was a colleague where I taught.) I barely knew a goose from a swan, at least when they were flying quickly overhead, but I was amazed by the number and variety of birds that morning. I photographed like a madman, not really knowing at all what I was photographing. Later on, back home and looking at files, I recall finding a series of photographs of a line of birds overhead that had oddly long and curving beaks. I wondered what they were. It turns out they were ibises.
Ibises are not always the most common specimens. In addition to their unusual beaks, they have another particular visual characteristic. In many situations you would regard them as dark and fairly drab-looking birds. Photographing them in flight is often difficult, partly because they frequently just end up looking black against any lighter background. But catch them in the right light and the texture, patterns, and colors of their feathers begin to appear. On this morning I happened upon a group of ibises, perhaps a couple dozen, in shallow water. I stopped and watched quietly and was able to photograph a variety of behaviors, including this interaction between two of the birds.
“Bassist Bill Everett” — Symphony Silicon Valley principal bassist William Everett
This photograph of principal double-bassist Bill Everett practicing backstage at a concert of the Symphony Silicon Valley is among my favorites so far from my three-year project photographing professional classical musicians. During this project I have extensive access to the performers and backstage areas, and I’m attending many rehearsals and concerts – so many and over such a long period that I am able to develop personal relationships with the musicians, find and use interesting little bits of stage lighting that others might miss, and learn to see and photograph elements of the musicians’ work that others might miss.
As I have worked the rehearsal and performance halls I have gradually learned a lot about subtle lighting opportunities in the backstage areas. I know keep an eye out for people who wander into this prime light spots, and when I see them there I quickly take advantage of the opportunity. Bill had, likely with no conscious thought, located himself directly between a backstage work light and essentially cast a vertical spotlight on him and his instrument. I stood nearby with a medium long lens and was able to make several photographs of him as he focused his attention on a bit of music from the performance.
A flock of white-faced ibises is silhouetted against evening blue sky and clouds above the Merced National Wildlife Refuge.
On this winter evening I visited, for the first time, the Merced National Wildlife Reserve on a detour I took while returning home from a few days photographing in Death Valley. This winter I have (finally!) started to become aware of the amazing annual influx of migratory birds in California’s Central Valley and I managed to get out there a couple of times to view and photograph the magnificent flocks of birds. Being new at this, I have been working at figuring out just how to photograph this subject, and I’ve come up with a few approaches that seem to work, though I have a lot to learn. In this case, I had figured out that if I just picked a spot and waited that eventually flocks would fly over my position, and that I would have a chance of photographing them against the evening sky and clouds. Being almost completely ignorant when it comes to identifying these birds – but no less impressed with them because of this – I had virtually no idea what I was photographing in the moment when I tracked the birds and made the exposures. In fact, it wasn’t until later that I noticed the wonderful curved bills of these birds and then found out from my friend Tom Clifton (who does know how to identify these critters) what they were.
As the birds approach I work to synchronize my camera motion with the speed and direction of their flight. I try to keep them in the frame, and preferably in the frame in a way that might create an interesting composition. And while I do that I try to keep some attention on the background against which they fly and some small remaining bit of my attention on the technical matter of keeping at least one of them under an autofocus point in the camera’s viewfinder. As a flock approaches, things seem to start out fairly slowly and it may seem like the birds are taking a long time to arrive. But as they get closer – especially when shooting with a 400mm focal length and double-especially when they are as close as this flock – the action speeds up, and as they pass overhead it is all I can do to keep them centered in the viewfinder as I let the camera’s burst mode do its job at the right moment.
There are things about the experience that the camera cannot capture. The cold and damp of a Central Valley winter evening might be evoked by the right sort of landscape photograph, but not by a photograph like this one – yet this is an integral part of the experience. Even more than that, the sound of these birds, alone or in huge groups, sticks in my mind as much or more than the visual image. If you have been there and heard it, perhaps a photograph may cause you to recall it.
Photographer and visual opportunist. Daily photos since 2005, plus articles, reviews, news, and ideas.
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