In Focus Daily

When I was in Costa Rica in March of this year, I was fortunate to successfully photograph ten different species of hummingbirds. One of the most colorful was the tiny male Crowned Woodnymph, only about three and a half inches. He perched in the soft rain as droplets accumulated on his beak and forehead. The overcast skies helped to saturate the already intense colors that this gorgeous bird displays. When I photograph hummingbirds, I use two different approaches. When shooting hummingbirds from a fixed position that is within flash range, I use a 400mm lens with a 1.4X teleconverter and two flashes, one on either side of the lens, to provide a soft light that wraps around the bird’s body just to bring out the color of the bird’s feathers, not to increase exposure. When I’m further away, I use a longer lens such as a 600mm lens with a teleconverter, either 1.4X or 2X and no flashes. In this instance, while the Crowned Woodnymph perched in front of me, I used an 840mm focal length and I didn’t need flash because the sky naturally saturated the colors and provided a gorgeous intensity reflected in his feathers.

There isn’t much activity at the Salt Pond along the Ferrari Pond Trail this time of year. But a lone Snowy Egret was gulping down something it had found in the shallow pond as I approached the other day. The vortex rings from the Egret stabbing its beak into the water are still visible beneath it and all of the grasses surrounding the pond are perfectly reflected in the salty water.

Last May in the Black Hills of South Dakota, I saw and photographed a Badger for the first time. The Badger was in the process of digging a burrow in the middle of a large, grassy field and she looked up at us with curiosity. She paused her digging to watch us, even resting her chin on the pile of dirt as she gazed in our direction.

A Great Blue Heron wades in a shallow pond at Wakodahatchee Wetlands in Florida this past February and waits for something in the water to catch its eye for a meal. I thought the light was especially lovely as the early morning light reflected from the water onto the bird, lighting its face.

This pair of Burrowing Owls was in the middle of a soccer field at Brian Piccolo Sports Park in Cooper City, Florida in February. Some of the soccer fields were closed to soccer as the owls had burrowed into the sandy dirt. The owl in front, with grains of sand clinging to its beak and facial feathers, had been digging furiously, as the other owl calmly stood as sand cascaded over it, closing its eyes and slowly opening them again only when the digging paused.

It’s been a while since the sun has shone here. It’s been gloomy, dank, and cold and the fog clings low to the ground. Yesterday, when I climbed up the path to Ferrari Pond, the logs where egrets and cormorants usually perch were empty but their reflections in the hazy gloom made an interesting composition.

A few Hooded Mergansers are hanging around Ferrari Pond. I’ve been told that there are even a couple of pairs that swim in the pond above the waterfall that I walk by each morning. However, to get to them requires walking across part of the golf course, something I’m reluctant to do after being admonished by a golfer who told me in no uncertain terms that I was walking on a path restricted to golf carts, no foot traffic. At least at Ferrari Pond I don’t have to worry about a golfer yelling at me. This female Hooded Merganser was swimming lazily in the pond the other day, then something either startled her or caught her attention and she ran across the water for several yards before settling down again.

The scenery is spectacular whether you’re inside Yellowstone National Park or as in this photograph, outside the park in Paradise Valley, on the road between the North entrance to the park and Livingston, Montana. And, when there are clouds, that’s the icing on the cake.

Even on a spring day in the Palouse, there is plenty of drama in the clouds. As the clouds merged and then drifted apart, they created small openings that allowed the sun to reach through to reveal the argyle patterns left by farm equipment criss-crossing the undulating hills. After watching my friend Moose Peterson give a presentation about capturing the power of clouds in landscape photography at The KelbyOne on-line Landscape Conference that concluded a couple of days ago, I was inspired to revisit some of the cloud-filled images I’ve taken in the past, including those from my June 2024 visit to the Palouse.

Yesterday and today I’ve been attending an on-line landscape photography workshop through KelbyOne. Landscape photography is not my strong suit and I am always interested in learning new approaches that will improve my landscape images. One of yesterday’s lectures was on Intimate Scenics, by Richard Bernabe, an internationally renowned nature, wildlife, and travel photographer. He focused on what he called intimate scenics, using a long lens instead of a wide angle lens which is most commonly associated with landscape photography. After listening, I recalled a photograph I took last year in Maine as we walked to a place called Moxie Falls. My friend Emerson and I were trailing the rest of the group, stopping often because we kept finding all kinds of interesting and what I now know as “intimate scenics.” One of my favorites was a pair of mushrooms growing in a high hole in a dead tree trunk. I shot this image at 160mm to create this intimate scene.

The Rivoli’s Hummingbird, one of the largest hummingbirds in North America at 5 inches, is my favorite hummingbird that I see at Madera Canyon in Arizona. His loud, slow hum, that sounds like a motorbike when he is approaching, is distinct from the other hummers and he commands attention as he zooms in to the feeders. The first year I visited Madera Canyon to photograph hummingbirds was 2017 and I managed only a few shots of the magnificent Mr. Wonderful, most of them perched. At the time, he was known as the Magnificent Hummingbird and we dubbed him Mr. Wonderful. He’s still both magnificent and wonderful in my eyes.

For what seems like an eternity, the Valley has been gloomy, overcast with dense morning fog, and with that damp, bone chilling cold that accompanies the fog this time of year. In contrast, communities in the foothills above 1000 feet have been enjoying the sunshine and warmer temperatures that serve to illustrate their slogan “above the fog and beneath the snow.” This past Friday evening, I briefly escaped the dank foggy cold and visited my friends Pam and Peter at their lovely 2100 foot elevation home in Foresthill for a gathering of board members of the Placer County Photography Club. When we arrived, the fog and overcast gave way to blue sky and sunshine, the likes of which I haven’t seen in weeks here. We actually saw color in the sky at sunset, not the drab gray that kept me from photographing the last full moon of the year. As the sun disappeared and the sky glowed red, we gathered on their deck and appreciated being above the fog.

A trio of Double-crested Cormorants gathered on the dead stump in the middle of Ferrari Pond the other morning. The bird in the middle was drying its wings. It is common to see Cormorants with their wings outstretched, drying them, because their feathers are not water proof and they become waterlogged when they dive for fish. As the bird in the upper left preened, one feather detached and floated slowly down to the water. The birds watched the floating feather and as it passed, the middle bird opened its beak in a failed attempt to catch the feather. Then, they watched as the feather, by now shaft down, sliced through the water and disappeared beneath them. I’m discovering that you can never anticipate what you’ll see on any given morning at Ferrari Pond.

Our resident American White Pelican is content to hang around the pond beneath the waterfall on the edge of the golf course. He swims and fishes with Snowy Egrets, Great Egrets, Buffleheads, and (surprise!) Canada Geese. I walk by the pond every morning on my way to the Ferrari Pond Trail a mile and a half away, and seeing him there always brings a smile to my face. Yesterday morning he decided to move toward his egret buddies and I captured him as he came in for a landing, shaking the water off his tail.

When I was growing up in the 1950’s, my mother had a mink fur wrap that, while stylish at the time, was also horrifying. It was made up of three mink bodies, with dangling feet, tails, and heads, and the mouth of one functioned as a clamp to close the wrap. It creeped me out. At that time, it didn’t occur to me that mink was an American species but it is native to much of North America, including Northern California. I’d heard there were minks at Ferrari Pond here in Lincoln Hills, and finally the other day, I saw one bounding along the trail and into the pond but did not manage to get any photographs. And, since day before yesterday, a dead Canada Goose, seemingly moored in the shallow waters of the pond just below the surface off one of the golf cart bridges, has been attracting the attention of mink in the vicinity. They are predatory, aquatic mammals adept at swimming and diving and they are carnivores. They dive for fish and frogs, hunt rodents, attack birds, and consume carrion like the goose. The goose seems to be providing at least two minks with sustenance. The first three images are of one individual and the last is a second individual who showed up after the first disappeared. When they swim, their bodies move like cigarette boats. The two minks worked the goose over, diving beneath the carcass to find some flesh, never really flipping it over. Both looked up at me on the bridge, one swimming with a mouthful of flesh, the other about to dive under the carcass.

The rams stick close together. I’m convinced that they even use each other’s horns to scratch an itch, especially on top of their heads. The Bighorn on the left, his head under the other ram’s horn, seems content to stay that way. BFFs forever.

While we were photographing a Bull Elk, a pair of Coyotes appeared from behind the trees. The first Coyote drank from a pool of water in a recess on a large granite boulder then trotted away as the second climbed onto the rock and proceeded to drink from the same watering hole. This Coyote checks to make sure that its mate will soon follow. It did and they both disappeared up and over the hillside. So much fun to watch these Coyotes in their gorgeous winter coats.

Floating Island Pond in Yellowstone National Park is surrounded by tall grasses. As we drove by on our first morning, the grasses reflected in the dark waters of the pond. There were no birds and no critters at the pond, only the reflections of the dried grasses.

The rivalry between Bighorn Sheep rams during the rut is fascinating to watch. The rams cluster closely together, pawing at each other in an attempt to entice a confrontation and even the violent crashing of heads. Then they quickly rejoin the scrum. Sometimes they knock horns without leaving the group. I loved this image that shows two rams appearing as if they are nose to nose, in what seems to be a stare-down that might result in a challenge and ultimately, a head-on crashing of those huge horns. A set can weigh thirty pounds or more.

Thanksgiving is over. My brothers, Sisters-in-law, their dogs Bella and Sadie, and I spent a marvelous couple of days together talking, laughing, and reminiscing for the first time in far too long. And, it wasn’t until the last few moments before everyone left yesterday that I realized I hadn’t taken any photographs. I had intended to commemorate the visit with a family portrait, the first in many years, but in the end, I settled for shots of Bella and Sadie. And of course chaos ensued, as it had during much of the short time we were all together. Somehow, the dogs seemed to sense that the end of a fun visit was near and they neither one would hold still for even a fraction of a second. Arthur and John tried unsuccessfully to corral them to pose for me. Instead, they raced up and down the hallway or wriggled under the table or threaded their way through the dining chair legs evading my lens. Finally, each one was briefly distracted long enough to pause for a fraction of a second. Although most of my efforts cut off ears or noses or entire heads or were just a blurry flash of gold or white, I was lucky to capture a few in focus shots. Now the chaos is over, everyone has left for long drives home, and I am smiling as I sweep up piles of gold and white fur.