Month: April 2020

Studio Werkz: A Step back in Time

Posted in Brown Falcon, Studio Werkz, WTPTagged , , , 10 Comments

For those new readers, Studio Werkz, was the proposed name of a ‘Studio Alliance”, by a group of photographers ever-so-long ago. I’ve blogged here about the formation and dissolution, (all in 24hours), so won’t belabour here.

However everytime I get the chance to make a portrait of a bird, I find myself pondering why studio offers so many opportunities to bring out the character of the subject.

It is about lighting, it is about backdrop and it is about the magic moment when the subject no longer is “having a portrait taken”, but allows an insight into their life. A sparkle in the eye, a wry grin, leaning forward, turning the body everso slightly, and there is the magic moment.

It’s like as one of my early mentors would say, “Like eavesdropping on a special moment. Developing a real sensitivity for a feeling that says so much. The lens, the camera, the lighting all are forgotten, it is the reaction that speaks visually.”

On my very first ever trip to the Western Treatment Plant many years back, I’d been travelling about the Plant with a very experienced birdo who graciously gave me a wonderful introduction to the area—so much so that I registered for access the following morning.

However, I hadn’t managed to achieve any significant pictures during our day, as we had little time to work with the birds.

After I picked up my car and was driving along 29 Mile Road on the way home, I spied this Brown Falcon sitting on the post in the late evening sunshine. Hesitantly I parked, and eased out of the vehicle, 500mm lens and beanbag.
Would Brown stay?

Now the falcons in the area are pretty used to vehicles speeding past, or even stopping, and have at least a passing tolerance for the human condition. Although what they really think of us is debatable.  Three things they they do give credit for, are lovely well spaced perching spaces, mice and rabbits.

Brown held.

And so I began to move about to get the best light, angle, and backdrop.  And for a brief moment it took me all in.
That was the going home shot.

Not more than a minute later, a vehicle approached and Brown felt the pressure and sniffing a light breeze turned and was gone.

Enjoy

Remain

Davyyd.

One of my most published bird photos

Saturday Evening Post #79: A Day, Like No Other

Posted in Flame Robin, Saturday Evening PostTagged , 6 Comments

Today is ANZAC Day, 2020.  Normally, at least, there would be assemblies of people around the country, honouring the memory of our fallen defense forces.

A dawn service at 6:00am is a tradition that came to the day because of its military heritage. Not unusual for whole families, grandies to grandkids, and great greats, to be gathered together in the quiet of pre-dawn.  One day a year. The clink of medals well earned, the comrades in arms catching up a few ‘hellos’ in hushed words.  The ringing of Laurence Binyon’s immortal words. “They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning. We will remember them.”

Then the trumpet call to “Reveille” and “The Last Post”. A minute of Silence.

Next, in most locations a march through the city of those that remain. More greetings, more community gatherings and more shared stories.
Twoup games, and Football.

This year, we found ourselves at the end of the driveway, in the cool of the morning, candles, and lights along the street, people hushed and reverent, and the Last Post rolling down the street from various sound systems.

I like first light. Some might be wary of it, but to me it has always been a comforting, protective time. Enveloped in the darkness, I watch as the first glimmers of light rolls up the day.

A new phase.  Deng Ming-Tao, writes, “As we enter a new phase of our lives, the parameters change. We need to revamp ourselves according to our situations. The continuing act of creativity keeps us going.
Learning is the fountain of youth,
No matter how old you are,
You mustn’t stop growing.”

I’d picked this image to follow the one of Mr. Mighty last week. I wonder if you picked why?

It’s a visual thing.  The branch this lass is perched on, is the same one Mr. Mighty was made on last week.

I think she might be the matriarch of the travelling party that season.  It’s only anecdotal, but it seems to me that a female kept the group focused and moving.  A few calls from her and the main group would move on to the next location. The males play little part in it, as they are quiet until its time to return back to the high country and take up summer territories.

The year I took this, (2011), she was looking after a flock of around 15-20. 4 males, 5-6 females and 10 or so young birds, in various stages of moulting into their new dress.

To all my fellow stay-at-homers, I hope all is well, you’re still creative, and still finding new ways of learning and acting.

Remain

 

Davyyd

Saturday Evening Post #78 : Brightening up a Cold Dreary Day

Posted in Uncategorized8 Comments

I first met this bird and his good lady, while I was working the Backpaddock at Woodlands Historic Park.
In those days I’d often bump into a birding friend, Ray, somewhere along the track.
Ray had been walking the Woodlands area for quite a number of years and knew just about every honeyeater spot, robin territory, Brown Falcon feeding area, and eagle’s lair over the park. I used to think that a White-throated Treecreeper announced his presence in the area.
He graciously shared his wide knowledge of the park, and most of what I knew about the various robins at Woodlands was handed to me by Ray.

We would occasionally catch up at the gate entrance to the enclosed Backpaddock—this is in the days before it became the infamous “Bandicoot Hilton”— and its usefulness to the birds waned; what I learned from that is that is if you mess with one part of the ecology to satisfy one species, don’t be surprised if things go out of kilter elsewhere.

As we stood near the little map shelter talking, Mr. Mighty would come and sit on one of the close branches, and listen so it seemed, to our discussions.  He would turn his head, fly closer, walk along a branch to get nearer and occasionally add a cheery, “drrrt, drrrt, drrrt”, call to the conversation.

His territory extended from near the gateway some 50-60 metres into the open Grey Box forest beyond. It was not unusual to sit on a log in the area and within a few minutes Mr. Mighty would drop by for a visit. So over several good seasons I managed some interesting moments with him, and the good lady, and their offspring. It wasn’t unusual for her to build 3-5 nest sites and pretend to be working on them all, mostly I guess to kept predatory ravens, magpies and cuckoo-shrikes confused.
She would, however, lose several nestings to these relentless marauders. Perhaps as many as 5 clutches would be started, but only one or possibly two would be successful.

Those who go back to the days of Bird Observers and Conservation Australia, (BOCA) might remember seeing this shot as the penultimate cover of Bird Observer (Aug 2011, No. 870) the quarterly magazine of BOCA just before the merger to form BIrdLife Australia.

During the past week, I’ve been rebuilding my photo database and among other surprises managed to find a folio of Mr. Mighty.  Put a smile on my face.

Enjoy

Remain

Davyyd.

Mr. Mighty
The little white facial cheek feather is the best id marker. (Apart from his confiding nature) When this was published, it was reversed,

Little Visits: The Earmuff Tern

Posted in White-winged Tern, WTPTagged , 6 Comments

Around November-December, a flock of Terns visits the Western Treatment Plant and stays over a few months, begin to colour up for breeding, before heading northwards for their territories somewhere in Eurasia.

One of their most endearing markings is a bar of black feathers across the back of the neck, that looks like Earmuffs.

They used to be called “White-winged Black Terns”. Useful name, as when coloured up for breeding they have jet black bodies and white wings.  Simples.
Not so for the namers of names, now they are called, much more usefully, you’d agree, “White-winged Tern”.

The numbers have been consistent over the few years I’ve been following them, and 30-40 birds are not unusual. They are a little smaller than Whiskered Terns, and they do seem to flock with their similarly usefully-named cousins. The WTP is some 10,000 hectares, so trying to locate 30 or so birds can be the needle-in-the-haystack kind of proposition, but as they mostly favour the ponds nearer the beach areas, the challenge is reduced at least a bit.

This year for some reason, the numbers were down, and it was obvious that we weren’t going to see the range of colouring occuring as in past years.  Then to make the job, “Roll down the Shutters, and turn off the Lights”, the WTP was closed for visitors when the ‘Until Further Notice” notice was added to the gates and the locks changed.  Got the message.

We did manage a couple of days with good light, a day or two with not so good light, and an evening that progressively became unworkable, so I’ve not been able to add substantially to the world’s collection of photos of the “Earmuff Tern”.

Enjoy

Remain

Davyyd.

Saturday Evening Post #77 : The Hound, the Horse and the Turtle Dove

Posted in Saturday Evening Post7 Comments

“Hey, I was thinking about you last night!”

Steve is the barista at the nearby coffee shop, “The Global Local”.  Steve and Zoe have managed to keep their business going, but have had to layoff staff.  EE and I have made their coffee an essential part of our essential grocery shopping forays- it is essential for a number of reasons. Steve is also a pastry chef and some of his pies, muffins, banana bread and my fav a Rhubarb and Apple tart— Gluten Free of course—can turn a good morning into a great morning.

“So,” I asked, “What bought that on?”

“I was watching Chicken Run on the tv last night and thought of you trying to sneak out of the village to drop by for a coffee.”  “Have you thought about building an aeroplane?”

It’s stuff like that which builds up a feeling of community, even if in a small way.  In a similar fashion EE and I have been sticking close to the local shops and helping to keep them running.  Small it might be, but hopefully, we are as they say, “all in it together”.

The Global Local has been a regular weekend midmorning meeting place for a number of our village friends, and it would not be unusual for about a dozen or so to be enjoying, the food, the drink, and the camaraderie of joyful conversation.

So while we all do our doona-hermit thing, there are little glimpses of a life beyond the reality of the moment.

Sitting alone, sipping Steve’s best Cappuccino, I turned to another distraction.  Henry Thoreau’s account of two years living at Walden Pond, Walden

I suspect that many of the baby boomers at one time or another read or at least glanced through the book. In my notebook I came across a quote on his work, ““Walden, after all, is a kind of how-to guide, a self-help book for aspiring eremites”, I am regrettably not to sure of the source.

I also suspect that for most readers, his aspiration, he was after all one the early ‘transcendentalists” , hard line would be too much to pursue for a long time. (although, truth be told, I do/did know of a number over the years that threw an attempt at it.) And I also suspect that re-reading it over the years that only the ‘highlights’ were taken on board, and the more difficult thoughts were either misunderstood or ignored, again I speak from experience. 🙂

One quote that was underlined early in my copy is this quote:

I long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle-dove, and am still on their trail. Many are the travelers I have spoken concerning them, describing their tracks and what calls they answered to. I have met one or two who have heard the hound, and the tramp of the horse, and even seen the dove disappear behind a cloud, and they seemed as anxious to recover them as if they had lost them themselves.

A mystical, if not metaphorical account. It seems our hounds, horses and doves have indeed flown for the moment. There is talk of what it will take to bring our world back.  Perhaps Thoreau was right, we are not the only ones searching for what seems to be lost.

Don’t blame Steve, or his coffee, I managed this all by myself on  a cold blustery day.

Good luck to all my fellow doona-hermits and may peace come on healing wings.

 

 

 

 

There is always another person to share the music with.

Posted in Playing for Change, Robbie Robertson, The Weight13 Comments

Ok, I agree, this has little to do with birds or the like.
But over on The Online Photographer, Mike Johnson brought this to my attention.
Its over a year old, but the philosophy behind the production is even more relevant to the challenges we presently face.

Having loved the song for ever, it was quite moving to see and hear the world-wide montage of various artists all bringing their special feel to the song.
By the way, it also changed my mind about how good a artist Ringo Starr really is.

And as a added bonus, Bob Marley’s house makes a cameo appearance toward the end.

Also in case you missed it. Robbie Robertson wrote the song.

 

 

For bonus points, have a search for the Making of The Weight.

Making the Weight Part 1

Making The Weight Part 2

Hope it puts a humm in your day.

Thanks to Playing for Change for bringing it all together.

Remain

Davyyd.

 

 

 

The Fine Art of Feeding

Posted in Black-shouldered KiteTagged 4 Comments

Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to collect a few Black-shouldered Kite feeding routines.

It always involves the male of the pair doing the hunting. Often times the female will fly out meet him and take it from him in the air.

It seems to me there are at least three techniques used by the birds.

1. Scary:  He hangs motionless in the air with the mouse presented on an extended foot.  She sweeps in at a great speed, flips upside down, claws out, and takes the mouse. The stress on his leg must be quite large as this a non-stop movement.
2. Dainty:  Again he hangs midair, she lines up from underneath and plucks the mouse with her beak.  She is practically motionless at the point of contact.
3.  Easy, but under pressure.  This is always a branch transfer. The main reason I think is that it might be easier on the male, but most times its because of prying eyes circling about to see what chance they have of taking off with a free lunch. Usually once it has been transferred she will sit mantling the food until she feels safe to deal with it.

When the young are very small, Mum will prepare the food, and then go to the nest and feed small pieces to each of the youngsters.  As they grow, she delivers, but they feed, and before fledgling Dad will deliver straight to the nest. The young will share the meal.

Once they are on the wing, some feeding takes place on the nest, and as they grow more confident in the air, the male will hang the mouse down and give the young a chance to hone their flying skills.  It has to be said that a hungry young one is more enthusiasm than skill, but that improves rapidly. In the end they can gracefully take it from his dangling claw.

So let’s illustrate some of those techniques.

Lining up for an approach
All systems Go!
Precision
And away

 

Another mid-air claw to beak transfer.
Transfering from a branch. She has rushed in and nearly knocks him from the branch.
The female, mantling over a mouse as a squadron of Black Kites waits for an opportunity to help themselves.
With no flight skills to speak of this is not going to go well for the young one.
Juvenile, “Hold still Dad, I’ve got it.”
Missed by… That much…
Turning back for a second run
You can’t fly through Dad to get to the mouse
All wings, legs and loud voice, but the angle of attack is all wrong
Sailing past, but no mouse.

Monday Morning Musing: Surprise!

Posted in Black-shouldered KiteTagged 11 Comments

Funny how somethings just catch up on you, when you least it expect it.

A few days ago, I’d left the Black-shouldered Kite nesting area with a few shots of the two just-fledged juveniles sitting on top of a tree.  Also had the feeling that it would be the last we’d see of them due to the travel restrictions and the like that were about to settle in.

However as  EE had not been out for the week, I had need to do both grocery shopping and also we were both in need of some well earned ‘exercise’, and we decided to combine both activities into the one trip.

We thought the local park to crowded and restricted, so to relieve the pressure on that location we motored on a little further.
I must admit to feeling much more secure in the middle of a 40 acre paddock than pushing a shopping trolley around a bustling supermarket.
No one at the carpark on our arrival, so we set off through the scrub.

Well, fancy that. What a surprise; we were in the area of the nesting Black-shouldered Kites.  🙂

What was even more astounding, and taking tongue-out-of-cheek for a few seconds, was that there sitting in the tree together, enjoying the morning sunshine, was not two juveniles, but three!

The one on the left in this shot, seems much darker and richer brown, so I suspect it is a couple of days behind the others, as they have already begun to lose some of that lovely ginger colour.

So clever mum had not only survived all the heavy rain, hail, strong winds and cold snap, but had hatched three young ones for her trouble.
We waited a few minutes before moving on, and one of the older ones took to the air.  Bonus.

It made our journey home a much more enjoyable time, and I quickly dashed through the Woolies lines—that’s why I pick Woolies.  🙂
and we were home in isolation in no time.

I recently came across, a link to the benefits of “Forest Bathing”, shinrin-yoku (Japanese) 

Here’s a quote:

This is not  hiking, or jogging. It is simply being in nature, connecting with it through our senses of sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch.
Shinrin-yoku is like a bridge.
By opening our senses, it bridges the gap between us and the natural world.

And if someone should challenge you here is a detailed scientific study on the benefits to the body.
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5580555/

Jon Young’s “Sit Spot”, is another example of such a practice.

I am not disputing the Government’s current stance, as firm action is needed, but a touch of wonderful chlorophyl generated good-will makes the heart sing.

A proverb I read somewhere said, “A merry heart does good like a medicine”.

May your time of isolation bring you harmony and the opportunity to enjoy the small things in your around.

Remain

Davyyd

The wonderful rich ginger colours will fade so quickly, but so good to see them on the wing.
Hard to pick from a single image but this one is practicing hovering.
Tricky stuff for the over enthusiastic but clumsy flying young one. In the end, dad took the mouse back to the nest for safe and easier transfer.

 

 

Saturday Evening Post #76 : The quintessence of Life

Posted in Saturday Evening PostTagged 8 Comments

“We’re going through!” The Commander’s voice was like thin ice breaking. He wore his full-dress uniform, with the heavily braided white cap pulled down rakishly over one cold gray eye. “We can’t make it, sir. It’s spoiling for a hurricane, if you ask me.” “I’m not asking you, Lieutenant Berg,” said the Commander. “Throw on the power lights! Rev her up to 8,500! We’re going through!”

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, James Thurber Short Story published March 18 1939 The New Yorker

It’s a fair assumption that while most will have heard of Walter Mitty, in one of the movie guises, most will not have read the original James Thurber short story.  Here is a link to  a version.

As it turns out, with time on my hands at home, I’ve watched the 2013 video version starring Ben Stiller a couple of times the past few days.

The Stiller version has Walter working for Life Magazine, just as it is about to merge, (as it did in reality). One of their photographers, played by Sean Penn sends an image for the final front cover. The story in the movie revolves around that.

I’d watched the movie at a theater some years back and have to confess I’m not a Stiller fan, so it had little impact on me.
This time however I was taken, not with the story, but with the recurring theme of the best of Life Magazine. From the amazing sweeping scenery, to the interesting (strange) characters that have small but incremental parts.  Just like reading Life.
The Director of Photography (DOP), Stuart Dryburgh, has done an amazing job of setting many of the scenes to emulate that story lines of many a great Life Magazine story. Take the drunken helicopter pilot. The kids playing football high in the Himalayas (can you be low in the Himalayas?) A volcano eruption, and miles and miles of ranging Icelandic mountain country.

The second time I watched it with the sound turned down, and fast forwarded the ‘talking bits’,

It’s no secret, to those who’ve followed the my humble Saturday Evening Posts, that magazines like Time, Life, Nat Geo and The Bulletin played a big part of my early photographic training.  While still at school I was following the work of David Duncan Douglas, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Capa, W. Eugene Smith, Eve Arnold and Dorothea Lange, to mention but a few. I was fortunate that my local small town library had a grand supply of magazines and photo journalism books, and to be honest, I immersed myself.

Places and people I never heard of, nor had any idea about how they fitted in to wider world, filled my head with the joy of the story and the wonder of the photographs.

So much so, that it is fair to say, that if certain events and people had not occurred in my youth (all good, no regrets), then I might well have filled that “Walter Mitty” in me, and as John Muir said, “With a pocketful of biscuits I set off to explore the inventions of God“.  Well, with a Nikon F, and a few rolls of Tri-X perhaps 🙂

Life Magazine had a motto, “To see Life; to See the World”, in the movie it becomes, “To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other and to feel. That is the purpose of life”

One of the most interesting photographic moments is when Walter finally catches up with photographer O’Connell as he is photographing a Snow Leopard. “A Ghost Cat“, say O’Connell, then decides not to take the picture, Walter asks why and O’Connell says, “Sometimes I don’t. If I like a moment, for me, personally, I don’t like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it.”

All very symbolic and adventuresome. That I guess is why I enjoyed the visuals, with the sound turned down, less distractions to the brilliant camera work of the DOP.
Which left me with one unanswered question,  Who would go to photograph a ghost cat with a Nikon F3T (titanium) and a 300mm f/2.8 Nikon lens, without a lens hood?

And to paraphrase “The Alchemist“, by Paulo Choelo, “…the thing you really need is the thing you already have, you just need to learn to take a closer look. You don’t need to travel around the world, you had what you wanted all the time.”

Best wishes to all my Fellow-Stay-at-Home-rs.  Remain safe and well, and be brave to dream big dreams.

Enjoy.

. . . He put his shoulders back and his heels together. “To hell with the handkerchief,” said Walter Mitty scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last.