Birds and Bees
I guess I'm settling in for monthly updates. Still working on my landscape photography course, and I find it takes up unwelcome space in my normal routine. The feedback is constructive, however, so hopefully I'll be able to leverage the insights and make improvements.
The macro and telephoto lenses got most of the workout this month. The macro continues to amaze me, resolving details I can't even see when I'm framing up the shot. The telephoto remains a welcome and huge improvement, but I'm still learning how to use it. Both have similar issues in that focus and timing are key. Given the poor quality of the Pentax K-70 autofocus, it's better to turn off autofocus and choose your moment. With macro that means breathing carefully in and out, rocking gently on your feet, or whatever technique is required to gently move closer to and further from the subject, and snapping the shutter when the image comes into focus. With the telephoto it means either pre-setting a focus point and shooting when the subject arrives, or manually tracking the busy subject through brush and hoping they pop out on the same focal plane. Both are definitely exercises in patience.
But I still enjoy landscapes. I spent a morning at our local "Forks", the confluence of the Assiniboine and Red rivers. There are a huge range of subjects, from landscapes to people to abstracts. Let's set the stage, it had just rained and puddles were everywhere, like the one atop this pier:
A lonely musician was practicing French horn down by the river:
I'm shy about photographing people, there were several ways I could have improved that shot, getting lower and closer, but I dreaded the thought of him turning around at the wrong moment. I need to work on getting over it. A different angle reveals all the potential that "could have been":
Closer to the river, a family of geese decided to bathe and drink:
A different "flock" of cool dudes came bombing up the river on their jet-skis:
Shades, tats, and a jet-ski...is there more to life?
I could see through the telephoto they were wondering why I was tracking them, so I switched to a nearby flying seagull, as if that was the subject all along, and caught him just as he crashed into the waves:
Meant to do it!
As part of the landscape course I'm taking, I was supposed to find situations which maximized depth of field. I kind of like this abstract, part of a wall on a walkway near the Forks:
Away from the Forks, and the refreshing, cooling presence of the rivers, things have a been a bit hotter. On a muggy day I revisited the swallow nest I'd blogged about last year. It's on part of the Trans-Canada Trail which travels through farmland:
One of the farmers put up a bird house near the trail. This year, I was hoping with the new telephoto I'd get better pictures, but it didn't quite turn out that way. The main problem was that, now that I could get in closer, the depth of field was much smaller. I set up my tripod at a similar distance as last year, but with a smaller window of opportunity I wasn't really able to improve on what I'd achieved last year. Hardly any shots were in focus, or the bird was mostly out of frame. I also wasn't able to get to the location as often, so wasn't able to experiment much. The best I managed was below. I love the wing angles, but it's spoiled by the bird house and the shadow:
I should mention that 1/4000th second shutter speed is essential. Anything less and it's blurry. But this means you need strong lighting, otherwise you're stuck with high ISOs. And once the sun gets to about 1-2 hours before sunset, the light begins to pale, so the infamous "golden hour" is just about the worst time to capture these birds tiny speedy birds. Two to four hours before sunset is optimal, because, at least at Winnipeg latitudes, the sun is still at a decent angle so the bird isn't completely top-lit.
Next year I will have to make a stronger commitment to get there more frequently and experiment more.
Anyway, there are a lot of other birds in that location, and I even managed to resolve a hummingbird to a recognizable shape. Hummingbirds are rare here, so any image is a treasure. This is a ruby-throated hummingbird, but the light wasn't hitting the throat from the right angle to show the amazing red shimmer:
Other birds:
Catbird with a berry
Sparrow in the ... potatoes ... ?
After a very dry spring, we've had some interesting weather. Much hotter than usual, and the occasional impressive storm. On my bike rides I don't bring my "real" camera gear. I only had the iPhone, but it does a pretty good job:
The next morning continued stormy, with lightning flashing like paparazzi spotting a movie star. I headed out around 6am to see what I could capture. Out in the farmland the canola is in bloom, creating vast carpets of yellow. Combined with the ominous clouds it created a nice colour contrast, though unfortunately by the time I got there the lightning had ended:
Since I'd been up so early (with about 4 hours sleep) I went home to breakfast and a nap, then got up and followed the edge of the storm east to the Whiteshell Provincial Park. The storm was moving so fast, I follow shadows at 80km/h. Even at normal driving speeds (110km/h+) I only barely kept up with the ragged edge, and bright sunlight dominated the rest of the day:
Should have used a polarizer...
The sunlight gave me lots of opportunity to work with the macro lens. The depth of field is so shallow you really need to use the smallest aperture possible...especially when the subject is a dragonfly cannibalizing its cousin:
This fellow had already munched off the head and was about 1/3rd the way down the torso. It was fascinating to watch. The dragonfly was so enjoying its prize I was able to move the dried grass it was resting on into better light without disturbing it much. I swear it was like a kid with an ice cream cone on a hot day: nothing else mattered. It's like it was thinking "This is so delicious, you could squish me now and I wouldn't care." Morbidly, if you look closely, you can see "slurp" marks on the torso it's feasting upon.
Other insects have more carb-based diets. These little fellows just lick their way from one nectar-laden puff to another. Truly these insects were granted the mana from heaven, and humanity has been bitter about it ever since:
The end of the day put the canola fields in a new light. The clouds were passing swiftly, and I tried to time the lighting of the foreground and old farmhouse before the background tree-line was lit. That was the idea, but I'm not sure it works, because the sky is still pale:
Somebody survived many winters in that old house...
Besides the canola, it's blooming time for many other flowers. I was impressed that the spot pattern of this butterfly so closely matched that of the Prairie Lily it was feasting on:
I should mention that blooming prairies aren't quite like other places. No carpets of colour for sure. This lily was nestled among grasses, and other plants that had either bloomed already or would later in the year:
Other current bloomers include types of sunflowers, like this one, lonely in the green gloom:
And in sunnier, sandier spots, I believe these are related to Black-Eyed Susans, with new prairie roses in the background:
Some of the smaller daisies like to decorate themselves with dogs:
But of them all, one of my favourites is the purple Prairie Clover:
One of the benefits of quietly focusing on flowers is that occasionally more active wildlife will arrive and either not see you, or not be alarmed by you. I've had this with otters, deer, owls, and in this case, I'm pretty sure it was a coyote:
A very cropped version:
I've never seen a coyote in Assiniboine Forest, but I probably shouldn't be surprised. I've seen foxes near the river. I'm not even sure about it. The last coyote I saw was in Death Valley, and that one looked more fox-like, but these northern breeds are bigger. The muzzle looks too heavy to be a fox, and it didn't behave like a dog.
It arrived as I was photographing the clover above. I had that "I'm being watched" moment, and looked up to see this beautiful creature watching me. I only had the macro lens (which is a telephoto too, but only at 100mm), so I snapped what I could. Then it turned quietly away and disappeared...very much *not* like a dog.
This kind of thing keeps happening to me, where I'm concentrating on macro stuff, or a landscape, quietly adjusting things and minding my own business, and "wildlife" shows up. So it's making me think I should invest in a second camera body and keep it attached to the telephoto lens, so I don't have to panic inside while I frantically (but slowly!) change lenses. Something to think about, but it won't be another K-70, it would have to have decent auto-focus.
That's it for July. I'm going on a canoe trip in early August, and hopefully I can capture some good images from the rugged and pristine lakes east of Kenora.
Cheers!
