Figure 1 – Fledgling black-capped chickadee preparing to fly, Black’s Nook, Fresh Pond Reservation, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Last week I was along the path at Black’s Nook when I noticed activity around a hole in the trunk of a tree. Two black-capped chickadees were carrying goodies (by bird definition) caterpillars and the like, to this hole. The pair was anxious that I chase them through the woods, but I remained, maintaining a social distance. I noticed that little bird heads kept popping up to the front of the hole. These were fledglings that were ready to test their wings, but a bit wary of the big guy with the camera. Every once in a while they would give out a baby bird, open mouthed peep.  I took a number of photographs of one of these fledglings in rapid succession, but then departed not wanting to draw attention to the nest to some less benign figure.

I reached the gate of Black’s Nook when I heard a flutter. Turning I saw the very uncertain flight of this little bird across the path onto a branch. He seemed very proud of himself. And sitting on that branch with his mouth closed the young fledgling seemed very adult indeed.

Having walked along this same path a few months ago when the temperatures were frigid and the snow covered walk precarious, I have a great appreciation of the struggle that these birds face each day trying to survive – to survive with the biological emphasis of species preservation. Their behavior is so marvelously instinctual, literally programed in their DNA. Baby chicks in the nest are terribly vulnerable, and this flight across the path is an important step towards independence and survival, ultimately to carry the program to its logical end of producing the next generation. And as precarious as their little lives may seem to us, it is significant and humbling to realize that birds appear to have evolved from the theropod dinosaurs over 200 million years ago.  I even get the privilege of quoting Sir T. H. Huxley here:

“We have had to stretch the definition of the class of birds so as to include birds with teeth and birds with paw-like fore limbs and long tails. There is no evidence that Compsognathus possessed feathers; but, if it did, it would be hard indeed to say whether it should be called a reptilian bird or an avian reptile.”^[4]

On Earth the birds are remarkably successful species, and we have to wonder whether they will be tweeting long after we and our cell phones are gone.

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 200 mm, ISO 1600, 1/80th sec at f/8.0 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – Memento mori, detail on a eighteenth century gravestone, Concord, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Memento mori is reflection on death.  A couple of weeks ago I spoke about photographing everyday things that are becoming obsolete.  Then I read this past week that the British government was selling its remaining 20 % share in the Royal Mail.  This is a nod to modernism if ever I heard one.  The establishment of the Royal Mail was an important part, in the nineteenth century, of what historian Paul Johnson has referred to as “the birth of the modern.” So really shouldn’t be a surprise to find ourselves a century and a half later redefining the modern.  The drones are coming, and you can look at your local postal person, mail boxes, and mail delivery trucks with a certain sense of nostalgia.

It all came home to me this week, when I had to mail a letter at work.  We are a very technology-forward office and I grumbled a bit at how difficult it was to produce the letter in the first place. The use of paper at the office is eschewed with a certain modernistic, almost religious, zeal – much like the crusades of the Middle Ages. But after resorting to bringing in printable labels from home and figuring out just how to position them correctly in the printer, I did accomplish the task at hand.. Yes, I found the printer under a layer of neglectful dust.  I did not however find an admin to do this for me. He/she is also rapidly become an anachronism in the modern office. There it was in my hand a beautifully printed letter in a properly labelled envelope.

Stamps?  You want stamps?

So now to hoof it to the Post Office, where I found two talkative clerks. I was the only patron in there, and I was presented with a host of stamp options. These were not the beautifully engraved stamps of my youth, but much lesser objects that reflect the general trend to appeal to collectors, who need turn over to create elusive and false rarity. The general concept being that if people aren’t going to mail letters with stamps maybe someone wants to collect them.

It all, as I said, got me thinking – grumble, grumble, grumble. But then I it all dawned on me. I have been at my job for almost a year now, and this was the first time in a year that I actually needed to mail a letter. Bring on the drones. The epitaph, after all, is written on the eighteenth century gravestones all over New England: “Memento mori,” reflect on death.

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 73 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE mode, 1/200th sec at f/8.0 2ith no exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – Red-winged black bird, Fresh Pond Reserve, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

The red-wings have been squawking up a full force storm along Fresh Pond.  I read somewhere that in 1977 there was a stable population of 180 million of them in North America.  Mostly though, what with rearing their fledglings they have little time to fill out census reports.  They figure prominently in Henry David Thoreau’s “Walden,” where he speaks fondly of them in the woods around Walden Pond, which is not too far from Fresh Pond and also a kettle pond.

I have been trying to get a decent photograph of a male for some time.  There’s always something wrong with the shot, and often this relates to a ruffled “abnormal” appearance.  In fact this is quite normal, an agitated and aggressive display, meant for other males. It is, in fact, difficult being a red-wing male. The birds live in loose colonies and the polygynous male typical defends up to ten females. The females however are often polyandrous and when they lay clutches of four to five eggs they often have mixed paternity.

So the cause of all this noise is now clear. Last Friday I ran into this fellow perched on a fence and managed a few snaps before he flew off to attempt to maintain order in his harem.  When I looked over my images, I started to wonder who was watching whom.  Most birds are either wary or indifferent  to the bird photographer. But this fellow seemed more curious.  Perhaps he mistook his reflection in my lens for another male.

Canon T2I with EF70-200mm f/4L USM at 200 mm, ISO 1660, Aperture Priority AE mode, 1/100 th sec at f/8.0 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – House sparrow (female), Fresh Pond Reserve, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Bird photography can be different from other forms of photography in that it has a cataloguing element to it, that is the desire to photograph every species at a given location. That’s great because it is almost invariably an impossible task – and there is nothing more humbling than attempting the impossible.  Hmm! This also leads to the view that no bird is too common or too plain to be worthy of portraying.  You know, like the phrase: “All children are special!” 

In that context, I have been trying to find the right opportunity and setting to get a good portrait of the common house sparrow, Passer domesticus, and on Friday took the photograph of Figure 1 of a representative female in a bush at Fresh Pond. Sparrows are pretty tolerant of you are walking along. But I find that as soon as you stop and raise camera to eye they beat wings.

Despite their ubiguity, the house sparrow is not native to North America.  They’re just a highly successful species.  They were in fact introduced to North America in 1852 upon the release of several specimens from England. Indeed, one of the reasons for its introduction around the world is an association of the sparrow with homeland.

 Not a whit, we defy augury. There is special providence in
the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to
come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come—the
readiness is all. Since no man, of aught he leaves, knows what is’t
to leave betimes, let be.

Hamlet Act 5, scene 2, 217–224

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 176 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE mode, 1/160th sec at f/8.0 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – Pink iris, Concord, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

This past weekend, Memorial Day, was a quiet relaxing three days – time to get ready for summer.  I spent part of it doing some maintenance on the Hati and Skoll website.  The “Cabinet of Nature” gallery was getting over run with bird photographs; so these have their own gallery now.  Also, there is a special gallery confined to “Birds of Fresh Pond,” which I am hoping to link with the “Friends of Fresh Pond” website. Over the next few weeks I will be further “touching” things up, culling here and augmenting there.

I did find some time for photographing as well and have already posted some of  these. I do not often succumb to flower pictures, but on Monday, as was walking through a nursery in Concord, MA, I came upon this spectacular pink iris (Figure 1). We tend to think of irises as being blue, but there are varieties, and these include the spectacular yellow wild irises that now grace “Black’s Nook” in Cambridge. I am told that my pink iris resembles a ballerina; so I have named it that. And I do see a resemblance to some of those “dancers in gossamer” photographs that abound.

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM at 113 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE mode, 1/1600 th sec at f/8.0 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – Gossip, Rumor, and Innuendo, Codman Estate, Lincoln, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Every morning and evening as I drive to and from work, I go past the historic Codman Estate, in Lincoln, Massachusetts.  Henry David Thoreau mentions the Codman Estate in “Walden.” So it is both a grounding and a bucolic drive.  There are cows and lamas in the fields, and for a year now I keep meaning to stop and take a few photographs. Well over the Memorial Day weekend, I finally decided to drive over and get out of the car.  I was trepidatious at first. But these are gentle giants and they watched me, but weren’t overly bothered by my presence, even when I came near the little calf that was there.

I wasn’t overly happy with the results of the photo-shoot. That means I am going to need to go back again. But in the meanwhile I have amused myself with this picture of three bovine ladies as if telling tales about others. It is a little clique; so I have named them as: Gossip, Rumor, and Innuendo. I will admit that I did a lot of Photoshopping with this one. I removed a lot of flies and ear tags from the cows to make them look more native and appealing.

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 131 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE mode, 1/500th sec at f/8.0 -1 exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – Ornamental garden owls, Concord, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

For some reason I love to photograph garden ornaments. These tend to be little real animals, looking cute and adorable as well as totally fanciful creatures looking, well, fanciful. And I suspect that therein lies the profounder point. Our gardens are private places of refuge, and when we populate them with little whimsical creatures, we simply add to their wonder and our sense of oasis.

OK, we can go deeper. Figure 1 (an IPhone image) shows ornamental garden owls. Now, there are these plastic owls that people put on roofs so as to provide roosting places for pigeons And these animals, the ones in Figure 1, aren’t going to fool Boston pigeons, most of whom have spent some time at one of our institutions of higher learning. But the owls are cool. And they allude to Athene noctua, the little baby owl that accompanied and was a symbol of the goddess Athena in Greek Mythology. This is, of course, the source of the phrase “wise old owl.” Who? You know the one on the bag of Wise Potato Chips. Who? Well, you know, Winnie the Pooh’s companion, who observed that “You, sir, are stuck. A wedged bear in a great tightness. In a word, irremovable.”

Hmm, and as for the creature of Figure 2 (also an IPhone image), I have no idea what that is. All that I can think about is the 1977 children’s Disney movie: “Pete’s Dragon.” That dragon’s name was Elliot. And for fans a remake is currently being filmed in New Zealand.

Figure 2 – Garden creature, Pete’s dragon, Elliot? Concord, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015

Figure 1 – Lemon and lime, Concord, MA.(c) DE Wolf 2015.

OK, I am officially declaring summer in New England.  It seems remarkable.  Barely more than a month ago, I was photographing frazil and pancake ice on Fresh Pond and now we are in summer. Spring is an iffy affair in Massachusetts.  The usual scenario is clear sailing from winter to summer with a brief mud season in between.  Well, there was precious little of that this year.  Still I cannot understand how after all that snow, we could be having water shortages. Not to worry much of the United States Congress has declared that there is no global warming. What a relief that is.  I mean, I was starting to give in to the ravings of my inner scientist.  Don’t be sarcastic, Wolf.  I am sorry. They are morons, the lot of them.  Well back to pleasanter things.  Everything is green.  It is in the high seventies (twenties to the civilized world), the birds are singing, and the flowers are blooming.

With the photograph of Figure 1, which I call “Lemon and Lime.” I’ll let it speak for itself, since some languages do not distinguish lemon from lime.  For most of us the eye does and the two colors are glorious, intense, and wonderful.

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 109 mm, ISO 200, Aperture Priority AE mode, 1/250 th sec at f/9.0 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – Cardinal in flight, Fresh Pond Reserve, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

The other day I spoke about how humans envy birds their flight.  It is a dance and elegant ballet.  The other day I caught the male cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis ) of Figure 1 in flight through the trees.  I would have preferred a more complete and overall sharpness.  But the wings are beautifully in focus, and I love their translucence and their downward gesture.  I also like the contrasting green  of the canopy, which provides the backlight that gives the transparency to the wings.

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM at 180 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE mode, 1/800 sec at f/7.1 with +1 exposure compensation.