2021 continued the 2020 trend of photographing birds locally, mostly by kayak, with many compromises due to Covid. All but three favorites were shot with my Sony A7 III and Sony 100-400mm f5.6 lens. Two shots used a tripod. Seated in a kayak, I mostly rested the lens on my palm or on a padded deck bag.

Lift Off

Last winter, cruising downwind on a workout paddle on Lake Washington, I came upon a group of Double-Crested Cormorants. Since the stiff breeze meant they would take off toward me if they bolted, I unzipped my camera from its waterproof bag, set the kayak skeg, and drifted toward them. Soon enough, a few birds took wing, angling upwind. I love the way cormorants punch the water with both feet together, so unlike loons, geese, swans and diving ducks ─ pretty much everybody ─ who run with alternate steps to take flight.

Mandy

In March, a male Mandarin Duck arrived at Juanita Bay. The showy Wood Duck cousin, native of Asia and a probable private-collection escapee, caused a photographer stampede for a couple months. Some mornings, I biked to Juanita Beach Park to photograph this impressive bird. One morning, hearing it was at the Kirkland Marina, I arrived before dawn. As the sun came up, I was lying on the beach for the low angle (wearing waterproof jacket and pants), and got lucky when Mandy snapped at a mosquito-like insect.

Green on Pink

In early April I visited nearby Juanita Bay Park several times to photograph Anna’s Hummingbirds sipping nectar from the blooms of Red-flowering Currant. I hoped firstly to capture a male flashing his gorget while feeding, but female visits were numerous, and this female stole the show: her green body engulfed in complimentary pink.

Junco Nest

At Juanita Beach Park adjacent a path worn by photographers chasing Mandy, I witnessed a Dark-eyed Junco exit a loose grassy patch. A nest there, perhaps? I moved nearer and discovered four tiny whitish eggs. I backed away, thinking with concern that this nest could easily be trampled. Three weeks later, I returned and observed from a distance as adult Juncos slipped in with food in bill. Following one such feeding, and with no crows or jays (or people) seen or heard, I walked over, stooped down, shot seven frames (about 1 second) and moved on. Lucky for me, the chicks sensed my camera/shadow like it was food delivery, and opened wide. I never returned again; attracting attention to a ground nest hidden in plain sight would be riskier by the day. As for the shot, I love the gaping mouths, and don’t mind in the least the interfering dead sticks and grass that broke up the terrain to conceal the nest from intruders.

Sap Well

I discovered this sap well along the River Trail at Marymoor Park, attended by a Red-breasted Sapsucker. I got a decent image of the bird, but on review I didn’t like the background, too bright and containing sky. I returned a few days later, and stood on a foot stool to find a better framing of the well and background. I waited, but no bird showed. I captured an image anyway, and later decided it was worth the effort to put the earlier capture into the better frame. A composite, then, without harsh highlights, nicely composed.

On the Hunt

I discovered a Virginia Rail nest by kayak near the Montlake Fill. Now, I never did actually see the nest, but only the behavior of the parents calling and moving in and out amongst the shoreline cattails. My strategy became jamming my kayak into the shore near an open space. This immobilized the boat, and then I waited. The Rails would come around, foraging, usually singly but sometimes together. I stayed still behind my camera, without camo, and they ignored me. I was hoping the dark-downy chicks would join them, but this image of a stalking, coming-at-ya adult made my day.

Chickadee Fledge

I was present on fledge day for a backyard Black-capped Chickadee family, documenting the three chicks leaving the nest. After two had fledged, though, I didn’t know if any remained. I mounted my camera on a tripod, framed the shot, pressed the video button and disappeared inside the house. Indeed, there was another youngster, and this 80-second video clip, shot 120fps 1080p, gives me such delight, I thought I’d share it here.

Fecund

I spent numerous mornings on a Union Bay pond that was home to three Pied-billed Grebe families that divided up the territory, documenting their failures and successes in the summer of 2021. This particular nest was built under cover of emergent Spatterdock, a native yellow pond lily, shortly after the parents had a failure with a near-shore nest. The new nest was adjacent the canoe trail, but away from shore, easing the threat from raccoons. Broad Spatterdock leaves kept the nest hidden from aerial predators like crows (and the local ravens). Too, canoe traffic was quite low due to 520 bridge construction. I discovered the nest when it cupped a single white egg; 20 days later, it contained seven, all heavily stained. I’m happy to report the parents successfully raised six, keeping them safe until, in early or mid-August, the parents booted them out of territory so they could raise another brood.

Galen Rowell Redux

In his 1993 book, The Art of Adventure Photography, the late Galen Rowell crafted the term “image maturity” to describe wildlife imagery, as follows: Uncommon, “immature” subjects require a straight-forward depiction. He used as an example the seldom-photographed Snow Leopard. Because it’s uncommon, we want to see the whole animal in rich detail. With more familiar, “mature” subjects, we demand subtlety or originality. A deer portrait is boring. A deer with just its eyes peering from a thicket can be intriguing; we recognize the subject, our imagination completes the picture, and we applaud a successful rendering. A Pied-billed Grebe with young on board may be an “immature”, ie not so recognizable, subject for many, but for me this partly hidden view, revealing only essence, won the day.

Sora

In early August I paddled the Fill side of Union Bay on Lake Washington. Lake levels were low due to the drought, revealing in places broad stretches of mud. I discovered a young Virginia Rail preening, and then a dozen yards away, this young Sora foraging. Both birds tolerated my presence. Most years paddling Lake Washington shores I don’t find Sora; getting low-angle, close-up images by kayak that day was a highlight of my bird-by-kayak year.

Puffin Hunt

Mid-August, I paddled to Smith Island, a 13.6-mile round trip, to photograph Tufted Puffins. Similar to last year’s visit, I checked the marine forecast for a calm sea and took safety precautions (see Smith Island Puffins). I once again found puffins floating on the water west of Smith, but no bait balls of massing birds. Craving flight shots, I mostly sat facing west in the kelp bed, waiting for fly-bys. As the morning heated up, I captured some mediocre images of flying Pelagic Cormorants, Pigeon Guillemots and a post-breeding Herrmann’s Gull. I had one chance at a fly-by puffin, but I saw it too late and missed. Puffins motor like sinking fastballs; even pros are likely to swing and miss. I’m pleased with the above image, though, and a few other portraits captured early. I was also once again thrilled to be out in nature on a tender sea, at a bountiful location a few hours from home.

Decisive Moment

Kate planted sunflowers again this year and six rose to a 10-12 ft height at maturity with large seed heads. They were so tall, photographing the jays and squirrels that attacked them was a non-starter. So I chopped down two, dried them in our shed, and on bright-overcast autumn days positioned shortened versions where I could photograph the jays collecting seeds against a clean backdrop. I had many successes, with this one particularly nice because of a seed suspended in the bill.

Spear Fishing

In the summer of 2021, a Green Heron pair nested in Union Bay just north of the Broadmoor Golf Course. I never found the nest, just the adults in more open areas fishing or flying to and from feeding their nestling. They were careful not to reveal the nest to a threat like me. Three fledged birds appeared in August, in the lily pads or roosting in the surrounding trees. By October, only one adult remained on territory. It became remarkably tame. One day the bird landed on a low rather-exposed log. In overcast light, I maneuvered my kayak to what yielded the best background, and then waited until the Heron made this successful strike of a nice-sized fish. If I hadn’t been well-acquainted with the bird, it probably wouldn’t have tolerated me, and I wouldn’t have attempted the close approach that gifted me this image.

“My Oh My!”

I purchased a Sony A7 IV camera on 12/23. On 12/26, taking advantage of the studio lighting from falling snow, I stepped out onto our backyard deck and captured still portraits of our feeder-boss Anna’s Hummingbird. Nice, but my older bodies could accomplish that as well. I retreated to my computer and reviewed Sony A1 auto-focus recommendations from Mark Galer. The A7 IV inherits the A1 auto-focus, including bird-eye tracking. Galer’s statement about mirrorless tracking hit home. The old dSLR ways, choosing a single-point focus and moving it about with a thumb-selector, or locking on with back-button focus and re-framing, are obsolete. I proved that the next day by using a wide-area focus w/(bird eye) tracking and locked onto the perched boss bird. I then positioned the bird in the upper corner of the frame. The focus-point stuck like glue. When the bird flew (to chase off an intruder), I pressed the shutter and tried to move the camera to follow. My movement was too slow, but the tracking point stayed on the bird’s head, if not the eye, moved with the bird across the frame and nailed the shot. While not exactly a favorite, the tech clearly works. Can I say I’m looking forward to 2022 and new photographic prospects?

All the best,

Gary