Figure 1 – Great black-backed gull at Woods Neck Beach, Falmouth, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

Bird photography is a little like stamp collecting. One of the goals is to photograph as many species as possible. And then you store away in your mind that this not so perfect photograph is an acceptable place holder until you get a really good one. All summer long I have been chasing a decent photograph of a Towhee, and I am having similar problems achieving a decent image of a eastern blue jay or a Baltimore oriole. So Figure 1 fits that bill. It is an image that I took at Wood Neck Beach in Falmouth, Massachusetts of a great black-backed gull – larus marinus. It is fuzzy because of the flatness of the light and the scattering of the atmosphere. But I do really like the juxtaposition of the people of the image. The woman who seems to be launching the bird and indicating a horizontal plan for it to fly in. And in modern times people play an important role in the life of this species.

It is the “flying brick.” I remember once taking the ferry from Falmouth to Martha’s Vinyard. People were feeding these gulls. They would follow along with perfect matched speed with the boat, look to the side, and then break ranks to grab a arm raised offered morsel. These were usually french fries. So much for gull nutrition. So until I get a better image of this beautiful flyer …

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 172 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE Mode, 1/2000th sec at f/13.0 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – The construction robot. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

I am starting to realize that even though the singularity by some reckonings is still forty-nine years away that the accelerating pace of movement towards it has resulted in its being more and more visible. You just have to look. Yesterday I was down in Boston’s Seaport District and stopped with a couple of tourists, who with their two sons, was watching a remote-control robotic “tamping device” pressing down the gravel sublayer in front of a hole in the ground. It reminded me immediately of the GE commercial, where the woman says “It’s a brain-controlled drone. My brain controls my thumbs which control the drone.” Hmm!

But here it is – one small step. And besides, this particular robot or drone did bare a striking resemblance to R2D2. That is, it was cute in a metallic sort of way. I snapped a picture with my IPhone (Figure 1). But it doesn’t quite capture the sensations of the moment. The Boston Seaport is filled with the sights, sounds, and bustle of construction. Massachusetts led the continent into the American Revolution and it is truly leading the Singularity Revolution. We have never lost, always expected and practiced greatness.  It’s in the air, and you’ve got to imagine this little R2 doing his job in a massive cacophony of construction noise. It’s interesting because when you think about the asymptotic rush of a mathematical singularity you don’t usually think about sound. But maybe mathematics has a voice. Maybe it is like Pythagoras‘ “Music of the Spheres.” Maybe the sound of a true singularity is so pure that it can only be heard by the gods.

Some years back now I went to a restaurant and encountered a robotic waiter. To be specific you ordered and paid through the robot (for now) and I refused to use it. I was thinking two things. First, that part of the dining out experience is interacting with the waiter or waitress. Second, these people need jobs to earn a living. This second point was reiterated to me by the waitress, who confirmed the fact that she did indeed need her job and didn’t want to be replaced by a machine. There is this underlying view that somehow it will all work out and that we will not create a chronically unemployed class. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

In the classic construction site this process would employ two people. Like the proverbially road construction crew of ten guys digging a hole – one doing the digging and nine looking at the guy in the hole, classically this tamping task would employ two people: one guy doing the tamping and one foreman supervising. The machine makes it a lot safer for the tamperer. I say that because the hole was deep and perilously close. Also the tamperer’s back is certainly spared. But in terms of labor number, the job it seems, so far at least, still requires two people and an adorable, but expensive, machine.

Figure 1 – The view through bullseye or crown glass. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

I thought that I would go abstract today with an IPhone image (Figure 1) taken through the bullseye of a crown glass window.

Bullseye glass was an early type (first developed in 14th century France)  or process of making window glass, where the glass was first blown into a “crown” or hollow globe. It was then transferred from the blowpipe and then flattened by centrifugal force. The globe was spun out until it was a flat disk, which could be up to six feet in diameter.

The obvious point was that the thick center portion was the least expensive. But from an artistic abstract point of view it creates the most desirable distortions.

Also, if I may make a request tonight (July 19th, 2016) HatiandSkoll is undergoing a server transfer. For about four hours we may lose location fidelity with our name server. That means that the address may not work. If this continues beyond Tuesday morning Eastern Time, could you please let me know. Thanks so much, David

Figure 1 – Common tern hovering, Wood Neck Beach, Falmouth, MA, July 9, 2016. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

Last weekend I was marveling at the common terns – Sterna hirundo – at Wood Neck Beach in Falmouth, Massachusetts. These birds are agile fliers and have this incredible ability to hover above the surf and then in an instant to dive down for some morsel (preferably a small fish). I took the image of Figure 1 of such a hovering maneuver.

Here there is the standard flying bird on a cloudy day problem. You are shooting a white bird against a grey sky. there is precious little dynamic range, causing graininess. The photograph is further complicated by the fact that one is shooting with a telephoto through a highly scattering atmosphere. Here the solution is to use the fuzziness to advantage. Don’t call it “fuzzy.” Call the quality of the image “diaphanous” – light, delicate, and translucent. That’s the ticket and the objective all along!

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 168 mm, ISO 160, Aperture Priority AE Mode, 1/4000th sec at f/11.0 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – Allium fireworks, Highfield Hall and Gardens, Falmouth, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

Last Saturday, when I was at Highfield Hall and Gardens in Falmouth, Massachusetts I had missed the Fourth of July by a couple of days. Too bad because I came across the beautiful Allium of Figure 1 in the gardens. They were reminiscent of fireworks and I was thinking, if not the Fourth of July then how about Bastille Day. I can celebrate with our allies the French. So “Vive la France, everyone!!”

I decided to do this image as a deep blue tone to mimic the sky and a fireworks display. This was one of the fun black and white photography manipulations in the analogue days – but has now been made a mundane and simple digital task. The good news is that you don’t have to deal with chemical nasties.

I have actually started carrying three camera with me. First, is my Canon, invariably with some kind of telephoto zoom. Second is my IPhone, which I tend to use for its wide angle abilitities. And third is my little Fuji FinePix digital camera, which I like for close-ups such as the flowers here because it has more pixels and more controls than the IPhone.

It only gets confusing when I get home and have to figure out where all the images are.

Fuji FinePix AX550,5.9 mm lens, 1/125 sec at f/3.3.

Figure 1 – Osprey family, Falmouth Beach, Falmouth, MA, July 10, 2016. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

I have to admit that I have been suffering from “raptor envy.” Over the last few months, I have been admiring other peoples’ photographs of raptors: owls, eagles, hawks, falcons, and buteos. I have been wondering just how is this done, how do you get close enough, and in general I have been suffering from “raptor envy.” In the meanwhile, I have during my walks seen a lot of these birds ever in the distance, and my photographic attempts have been rather pathetic – well maybe not the attempts, but the results certainly. These great birds have always been dark, tiny in the frame, and often out-of-focus.

Last weekend we went to the Great Sippewissett Marsh in Falmouth, MA, and I looked longingly at the ospreys in a distant nesting platform. Later my friend Kip, who knows all secrets Woods Hole, took me to a nesting platform in the marshes just off Falmouth Beach, and to my delight I could get quite close to the nest. So was this the secret?

At first, I thought that nobody was home. Off in the distance a solitary osprey danced through the air in a gyre. Then I saw a little head pop up in the nest and wondered if the gyre might become ire at the insult of my proximity.  I suspect that being dive bombed by an angry bird of prey is not the best experience. I surmise this from the fictional cinematographic experiences of Laura Dern and Bryce Dallas Howard, with velociraptors. Fortunately, my raptors were used to the presence of gawking scientists. Then I saw her closing in and snapped photographs madly. I kept focusing on the eyes as best I could and pressing the shutter. I only had my 70 to 200 mm lens, which may have been best, since with the big lens I doubt that I could have captured it on the fly. Two of my best images are shown in Figures 1 and 2. Gone for now is any sense of “raptor envy.” I finally have my own – Pandion haliaetus.

The osprey is a truly magnificent bird. Also called fish eagle, sea hawk, river hawk, and fish hawk, it is a diurnal, fish-eating bird of prey that can reach in excess of 60 cm (24 in) in length and 180 cm (71 in) across the wings. Psst, that’s almost a six foot wingspan. It is found on all continents except Antarctica, although in South America it occurs only as a non-breeding migrant. Having survived hunting and the ravages of DDT in the 19^th and 20^th centuries, the osprey has made a decent comeback and is currently rated as “least concerned” as a species. But the precise population numbers are unclear and the osprey’s hold against loss of habitat and pollution must be considered tenuous.

There are a few interesting points to be made about Pandion haliaetus. It was one of the original species described and identified by Carl Linnaeus in his 18th-century work, Systema Naturae,  In the Linnaean taxonomy it was Falco haliaeetus. Second, is the origin of the English work “osprey.” Genus Pandion derives from the mythical Greek king of Athens Pandion II, who was the grandfather of Theseus. Species haliaetus comes from Ancient Greek haliaietos ἁλιάετος, the “sea eagle.” The English word osprey is more obscure but appears to derive from the Anglo-French ospriet and the Medieval Latin avis prede “bird of prey.”

Figure 1 – Canon T2i with lens Lens   EF70-200mm f/4L USM at 180 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE Mode. 1/2500 sec, at f/9.0 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 2 –  Canon T2i with lens Lens   EF70-200mm f/4L USM at 200 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE Mode. 1/4000 sec, at f/7.1 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 2 – Osprey, Falmouth Beach, Falmouth, MA, July 10, 2016. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

Windsor chair with table and reflections, Highfield Hall and Gardens, Falmouth, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

Today I wanted to share another interior image that I took at Highfield Hall and Gardens this past Sunday.  This photograph is a geometric interior shot. Because it is of such concrete definition, I would not refer to it as an abstraction. I think that lying within the nature of our minds is a love of the geometric. Geometry is both soothing and defining of boundaries. There is an appeal to the ordered. It mirrors the stability that we wish of our lives.

I read recently about a couple of parallel lines found on an ancient animal bone and suddenly we had the earliest evidence of humans in North America. In that respect the geometric is “of mankind,” and such is certainly the case here with this chair, the window blinds and their reflections. But it is ultimately the case that we learn geometry, structure, and order from the natural world. A pine barren with a straight and rigid line of parallel trees, a flower, a stair fish, and, of course, the random pattern of the stars that we mentally group into constellations.

Behold the Great Bear and his lesser buddy “The Little Bear,” you say? I can see a dipper, but a bear? It is the product of an over active imagination perhaps – but most significantly it is of a human imagination.

With regard to my photograph, I was taken by the parallel reflections – a physicist’s delight. I love the warm glow and the tonal range. And it is wonderful to be in a museum filled with wonderful art and to suddenly focus instead on the beauty of the mundane and everyday – here the furniture in the library. Specifically it is the most utilitarian of furniture. Yet the Windsor chair is ever a thing of great beauty.

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 70mm , ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE Mode, 1/320th sec at f/7.1 with -1 exposure compensation.