A Year of Birds: December

Heavy snow fell, blanketing the park in white. In such conditions one wouldn't expect to see wildlife out and about and yet, they were! Where there is food, there is wildlife. Northern Cardinals, Black-Capped Chickadees, woodpeckers, red and white breasted Nuthatches and Robins all descended to a thicket of bushes covered in berries. The brilliant red of the Cardinals against the pure snow caught my eye.

Pairs of male and female Northern Cardinals were amongst the other wintering birds. The males perched motionless like bright red beacons while the females flitted from branch to branch. There was so much to photograph. To my delight, the females had beautiful bright orange and red under their wings so while they flew the pop of colour was revealed. I composed a photograph of that. A male and female cardinal were perched one in front of the other, I photographed that. I focussed on a singular male cardinal that had been perched for quite some time as snowflakes accumulated on his feathers. I composed several frames of the magical visual. The image reminded me of a classic seasonal greeting card which is why I chose it for the month of December.

A Year of Birds: November

Even in late fall, the forest floor was astir with activity. Songbirds were foraging for insects and berries to get enough energy to migrate farther south or to survive the winter. Both the Ruby and Golden-crowned Kinglets were swiftly moving along the fallen leaves. The rapid movement of the tiny birds made it difficult to get a clear photograph. In all the excitement, some motion behind a downed tree caught my attention. I turned my camera to the log, thinking it was a crowned kinglet. To my surprise, a Winter Wren popped up instead, blending right into the bark! As the wren stayed in place for only a moment, I took the opportunity to compose a frame or two before it departed. This mighty little bird was not singing but silently camouflaged in the understory.

A Year of Birds: October

The adventure begins with a fishing/photography trip around Algonquin with my Dad. On a crisp morning we set out in a canoe to catch the sunrise. There was no wind, the air was still, the water calm. As the sun rose reflections of the autumn colours shone bright around us. Truly idyllic conditions for photography. With Dad at the stern and me at the stem we headed straight across the lake. We were searching for a decent fishing spot for Dad and photography opportunities for me. As we paddled we could hear a pair of moose calling off in the distance.

Once we canoed across, we found a small inlet where a pair of loons happened to be. My Dad was hopeful bass might also be in the inlet. After many casts and only one bite we focused on the loons. They too were fishing as they dove under the surface again and again. The waterfowl did not shy away. Eventually they were diving and popping up close to us. At one point I had my camera trained on a loon that had come up at the prow of our canoe. "Get ready" my Dad whispered, "here comes the show". Sure enough, the loon gracefully rose up, flapped its wings and shook itself dry. My shutter clicked in quick bursts to catch the elegant display. After we left the inlet I showed my Dad the photos. We saw "the show" and I got "the shot". Elated with our morning thus far, we continued on around the bend. With my Dad as an exceptional sterner I composed many wonderful sights on that lake. Unfortunately, not one fish was caught. I won't forget that trip in a hurry!

A Year of Birds: September

In early autumn I photographed the final journey of the returning salmon. A plethora of wildlife benefits from the spawning salmon. After hours of walking up and down a river, I took a rest on the bank.

A slate-grey songbird was flitting along the rocks at the river's edge. I reached for my camera, expecting to photograph an ordinary songbird. Suddenly, the bird walked right into the water and disappeared. I scrambled to adjust my camera settings, completely shocked at what I had just seen. The aptly named dipper resurfaced with a fish-fry. I snapped my shutter as the bird proceeded to stun the fish on a rock before eating it whole. After the meal it alighted on a tall rock, closer to me. The dipper seemed to stare right down the lens. Then it blinked, revealing white eyelids! The bird continued downstream stopping to sing a beautiful varied song. Except, I now knew it was no ordinary songbird. After a while it flew off to dip in another part of the river. I was fortunate to observe so much in the short time I had with this fascinating bird.

A Year of Birds: August

My friend and I were exploring the beach on a cloudy summer day. It was low-tide. We had just finished photographing various crustaceans and sea stars. Large boulders dotted the shore as we made our way across the sand. There is so much to see at low tide. For predators, it is a time to hunt and feast.

We had ventured to opposite sides of a tidal pool when a heron took flight. In a few wing beats it crossed the water in front of my friend. The heron's trajectory suggested it was headed towards a barnacle-speckled boulder directly in front of me. In seconds I changed my shutter speed in anticipation to catch the motion of the bird as it touched down.

A Year of Birds: July

The photograph for the month of July was actually taken in February. While I was down in NOLA I explored some of City Park. An electric bike with pedal assist was very helpful in navigating the very large urban park. There were points I’d reach 20 miles an hour! The park seemed to go on and on. As I raced closer to its centre and away from the crowds I got a good feeling I would see something of interest. I crossed under a highway overpass to find a small farm. 

In the grass on the farm stood a Great Egret! I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I had never observed a wading bird hunt in tall grass far from water and yet there it was, a large white bird amidst lush greenery. I hopped off the bike and quickly got my camera out of my backpack. A handful of white flowers nicely mimicked the soft white of the bird’s plumage. I knelt down to composed the scene before me. The large egret’s signature crooked neck jutted out as it stalked through the grass looking for a meal. Less than a kilometre away I happened upon a Snowy Egret in City Park as well, a lifer moment for me.

Snowy Egrets have wonderful contrasting colour! Their black legs and bright yellow feet mimic their black beaks and yellow eyes. These birds are commonly seen in ditches around the city. However, I wanted to capture them in a quieter environment. I spotted this particular individual minding their business all alone on a limb. I took the opportunity of the still moment to capture the abstract reflection on the calm water.

A Year of Birds: June

Six months on the island and there was one bird that still eluded me, the Valley Quail. One evening in June, I was biking through a small neighbourhood on my way back from a full day of exploring. The light was faint as the sun hung low. I passed by a lawn with a row of trees. On the other side of the trees was a flock of Valley Quails! I knew to have any chance of producing a good image I needed to let the birds come to me, that meant getting low and staying quiet.

Once the ground birds were out of sight, I dismounted the bike and with camera in hand crawled across the grass. I lay in wait on the lawn for the quails to forage closer. Sure enough, a male and female made their way through the trees and down the lawn coming right for my lens. I started clicking away as the pair got closer. At this time I began to have a reaction to the grass I was lying on. As I was focusing on the male with his beautiful plumage my eyes started to itch and my throat tingled. I tried to hold in a sneeze so I did not scare the birds but it came out. Then two more, then three in succession. My eyes were now watering and my nose was running. The male quail was quickly diverting his course away from me and crossing the road to safety. I made my last frames before the entire flock disappeared in a thicket across the road. I was upset that I had frightened them. Photo or not I never intend to scare wildlife. My reaction to the grass was also very uncomfortable. For the next hour my throat swelled up. It felt like I was breathing through a straw until the inflammation went down.

Despite the discomfort, I'm thankful I was able to photograph the quails and grateful to have spent a moment so close to them. The photos were hard earned. Now recovered, I can appreciate how comical the entire scene was.

A Year of Birds: May

Spring had arrived! There was a lot to point a lens at. Cherry blossoms in full bloom, magnolias and daffodils. My attention was on the birds. Cardinals, sparrows, warblers and of course Baltimore Orioles. Distancing myself from the bustle of the crowds I was focused on a Northern Cardinal when my attention was drawn away. A male Baltimore Oriole alighted on a branch directly above me. Hopping along whistling his signature call. As I pointed my lens the orange bird flew to a fully bloomed cherry tree. I felt as though he got my attention to have me follow, so I did.

Ornamenting the tree in orange and black, it wasn’t difficult to find him against the blossoms and colourless sky. The oriole sampled flower after flower letting out a tweet every few seconds. I composed this photograph between foraging and the moment he began tweeting.

A Year of Birds: April

There are moments when you don't know what you'll see next! This was one of those moments!

On an early spring day, a dynamic display unfolded before me by the side of the road. The sun was out after a deluge of rain, the wind was blowing strong. The odd puff of clouds raced by high in the sky. A male Anna's Hummingbird was busying back and forth between a sapling and an evergreen on a fence row. After a few flights, the tiny bird finally alighted on the sapling for a moment. In full sun he soaked up the warmth and shook off any remaining water. I watched delighted as he began stretching, scratching and practicing his mating display, behaviour I had never observed before. Every now and then a delighted buzzy song would come from the little being. Like a rare jewel, the hummingbird flashed colourful and bright. Positioned where I was, I could not photograph the radiance of the iridescent feathers from my angle. It was challenging to get the hummingbird in focus while he swayed in the wind and moved so suddenly. Even still, flight after flight he landed, my lens followed framing move after move.

The moment was so special, to this day I remember what I witnesses through the viewfinder. A small bird with a big personality filling up the frame!

A Year of Birds: March

Out in a city park with my camera, I was aware of a roost of long-eared owls. I have great respect for the wintering birds, giving them their space when I can.

There was another photographer there who (unknown to me at the time) had found a dozing owl in a cedar tree. As I got close to the bird this photographer distracted me, claiming to be from "the ministry" and told me to be careful of the coyotes in the park. I walked right under the owl. I was photographing a male long-eared owl from a distance when I noticed the photographer had brought two buddies to the same area I was intercepted in. They were all pointing their lenses at something in a cedar tree. I was now curious. When they left, I returned to investigate. A female long-eared owl was in the cedar tree I had originally walked right under. I quickly composed some frames and let the owl be.

For over ten years I've been photographing wildlife and nature in a lot of spaces, this was my first time encountering a competitive photographer. My initial thought was that the photographer was protecting the owl from being disturbed by too many people. What they were really doing was concealing the owl from others until their buddies all got their shots. It was an unpleasant reminder of what lengths some photographers will go to get "the shot" even at the detriment to wildlife.

A Year of Birds: January

January of 2019, I began a volunteer position on Vancouver Island. My first morning there I explored a path leading down to the ocean. A bare tree stood alone on the steep incline overlooking the shore. This dead tree was clearly of ecological significance, for alighted on its branch was a Bald Eagle! I had not seen this formidable brown and white raptor in months, and never so close. Over the following weeks I always looked to the tree when it was in sight. Nearly every time an eagle, sometimes two were perched there. I could only imagine the great view of the surrounding seaside from that vantage point. Clearly it was a favourite perch for the hunting and mating eagles whom likely built their nest nearby.

A couple of days later, the sun was out, not a cloud in the sky. This day I was prepared with my camera as I walked to the tree hoping for a sighting. I was fortunate enough to compose a few images of a Bald Eagle alone on the bare tree. The clear blue of the sky with the low winter sun made the eagle stand right out! The small detail of red on the raptor's beak from a recent meal contributed a wildness that I didn’t expect. It was one of the first photographs I took on the island. What a tremendous start! I repeatedly visited the perch with and without my camera throughout the year to see what would be on that bare tree.