IN MEMORY OF HANK GOLET
I first met Hank Golet 31 years ago, while photographing a story about Osprey banding in Old Lyme. He was one of the small group of volunteers who were passionate about restoring the once prevalent raptor to the Connecticut shoreline. It was a story that would impact the course of my life, sparking my own passion for birds and wildlife, and affording me many more chances to cross paths with Hank.
I photographed him a couple more times in his efforts to protect Osprey, for different newspapers, and quickly realized that he had an incredible wealth of knowledge about birds in southeastern Connecticut. Better still, he was happy to share his vast experience with someone who shared his passion, if only a tiny fraction of his acumen. Birds, however, barely scratched the surface of Hank's institutional knowledge of nature. Over the years, I grew to learn just how much he knew about. Birds, bees, butterflies, fish, frogs, flowers, trees, archeology, history, the list of things I learned about from him seemed endless. He was 25 years my senior, but had boundless energy and vitality, hiking, cycling, boating, kayaking, fishing, even running. If you wanted to find a trail in Lyme or Old Lyme, Hank had hiked there. He took me on a walk along the Connecticut River on a trail I never knew about, pointing out remnants of a centuries old granite quarry. Then we came upon a vernal pond and he showed me the tiny Fairy Shrimp living in it. Eagle nests, Native American campsites, an overlook of the Lieutenant River, he was a walking, talking encyclopedia, trail map and GPS. It wasn't limited to Connecticut, either. We talked about Newfoundland, the Connecticut Lakes, even the Caribbean. He kept journals of his many travels and experiences, and was also an accomplished nature photographer. He took great pictures of birds with a small point-and-shoot Nikon through a beat up old scope, often from his kayak.
Years ago I was photographing a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker feeding at a tree in Nehantic State Forest in March. As the temperature warmed into the 70's, sap flowed from the line of holes the woodpecker had made, and I started to see flashes of orange at the base of the tree. I thought my eyes were playing tricks, but on closer inspection I saw there were small butterflies feeding on the sap running down the tree trunk. With their wings closed they blended seamlessly into the bark, but when open showed the orange flashes. I quickly shifted my focus from the sapsucker to the butterflies, even though I had no idea what kind they were. When I finished shooting, I called Hank to ask what kind they might be. I went back the next day and Hank arrived with his friend, Noble Proctor, to see what I described. It spoke volumes of Hank to know who some of his peers were, including Noble, and even Roger Tory Peterson. Eastern Comma, Question Mark and Compton's Tortoiseshell all returned to the tree.
He was happy to share the many other butterflies I could find nearby, and opened up a whole new world to me. When I wanted to find a specific species of butterfly, Hank usually knew when, where, and on which specific flower or plant to find them. He invited me to watch the tree swallows, took me on his boat to see and photograph elusive Least Bitterns, and shared countless other interesting bird and wildlife sightings and interesting locations. I truly felt like he'd taken me under his wing. When I read the sad news that Hank had passed, and the number of tributes to him, it's clear that many people felt the same way about him. He was a friendly, kind and generous person. I have a fond memory of Hank "holding court" one cold winter evening at Great Island, with a crowd of townspeople from Old Lyme who came to see Snowy Owls that he found there. I usually ran into him pretty regularly while out looking for birds in southeastern Connecticut, but it had been many months since I'd seen the red pickup with the green "Save What's Left" sticker on the back window. Many others had asked me about him, as well. I saw Hank briefly one evening this summer at Great Island, and was heartened. He looked good and seemed happy to know that many people were thinking of him. We've lost a true champion of the natural word in Connecticut, and I've lost a true mentor and friend. I'll miss him.
A SHOWY SNOWY
This winter there's been a remarkable opportunity for anyone interested in photographing birds or wildlife, if you're willing to take a ride to Rhode Island. A Snowy Owl has spent most of the winter at Sachuest Point National Wildlife Refuge in Middletown, RI. This alone is not big news, as there have been several recent winters with one or more Snowy Owls there, as well as other owls. What makes this one different is that it appears to have little or no fear of people, and actually spends most of its time in the area most trafficked by visitors to the refuge, in the fields adjacent to the parking lot and perched on the roof of the visitors center.
For many people, seeing and photographing such an exiting subject is quite a thrill, but owls and photographers usually don't mix and there always seems to be drama when lots of people are chasing them for a photo. I have to admit that it took several weeks of seeing pictures posted almost daily before I decided it was worth going for it. I've photographed plenty of Snowy Owls, including at Sachuest, and wasn't all that keen rehash the same ground and to be part of the horde that surely would be seen as threatening or harassing the wary visitor. But after seeing multiple pictures of the owl catching mice or voles, or flying directly toward the camera I was convinced I should go check it out. One particular photo sealed the deal for me, a shot of the owl flying just a few feet over the heads of several photographers. This clearly wasn't a typical Snowy!
By the time I made my first visit, in mid-February, the owl was already quite a celebrity. I decided to go on a weekday afternoon, hoping to avoid a big crowd. When I arrived it was sitting in a field about 20 yards from the parking lot, with no less than a dozen cameras trained on it from the edge of the lot. The field was cordoned of with sawhorses and rope, but there was really no need to get any closer. I actually had to stand well back into the parking lot so that I would not be too tight if it took off in flight. Eventually the owl did take off, flying right towards us and up to the roof of the visitors center. It spent a while up there eyeing the surrounding areas, with people walking into the center right beneath it, before settling back down in the same field. I quickly realized that this was almost a perfect situation, and one I've rarely, if ever, encountered in wildlife photography. This owl was going about its normal business, behaving as it would naturally, allowing us to document it all without really impacting it. It was like being the proverbial "fly on the wall".
Having spent more than 20 years as a news photographer, my goal was usually to tell people's stories in pictures. Of course, it wasn't always easy to get exactly what you wanted. Having willing or cooperative subjects and gaining access for key moments were often an issue. There were times when it all came together, but even dealing with people, the ability to photograph something without impacting or influencing it was pretty rare. With wild creatures, especially wary ones like birds of prey, this seemed close to impossible. So why is this owl so trusting? I learned that this young male owl was injured by a car in Canada last September and taken in by a wildlife rehabilitator. There is a metal band on one of its legs (photo above) and six blue ink markings (photo below) on one wingtip. While there's no way to be sure, it appears to have recovered fully in rehab, and lost its wariness of humans in the process. The concern, of course, is that not all humans care about wildlife equally. Hopefully, the many photographers that were lucky enough to capture this owl don't expect that others will be this approachable.
In two visits to Sachuest I was able to capture a lot of the typical behavior of a Snowy Owl in the wild, without ever leaving the parking lot of the refuge. Much of the time it sat perched atop the visitor center, as it would seek out a high point or rock outcropping on the tundra. From this vantage point it would survey the fields below looking for prey.
I was able to photograph it hunt successfully several times one afternoon. It would keenly eye specific areas in the fields adjacent to the visitor's center, and locate its prey, usually a large vole, hidden in the grass. It seems like it hunted more by sight than sound, especially since people were often talking in normal voices between it and its quarry. When a target was located, it would launch from its perch and fly in a low, straight line, often directly over our heads and out into the field.
When it struck, often 50 to 100 yards away from the perch, it grabbed its prey along with a tuft or clump of grass in its impressive talons and applied the death grip, often flapping its wings to maximize the force.
After a few seconds, it would bend down and use its beak for the final blow, snapping the neck of its prey. Then it would gradually gulp it down whole, head first.
The owl continued to hunt after its first catch, quickly dispatching another vole in a similar manner a short time later.
At one point, after resting in the grass for some time the owl stood up and took a couple steps directly toward me. It leaned forward awkwardly and I was expecting something to come out of its backside, but instead it regurgitated a huge pellet.
The pellet is the made up of the undigested remains of the prey it swallowed whole, including fur and bones. I found another pellet on the lawn in front of the visitors center and photographed it with a ruler. At nearly five inches long, it's the largest owl pellet I have ever seen, and surely indicates that this Snowy Owl is pretty well fed.
I went for a third visit in March, but the owl was not visible for the entire afternoon. It had been seen less frequently near the visitor's center, and I was starting to think this remarkable opportunity was coming to an end. After searching other locations, I wound up back at the refuge parking lot. With the afternoon light fading, I was preparing to leave when a car pulled up and announced that the owl was back atop the visitors center. As the sun began to set, the owl flew off the roof in a low straight line, gliding right past another photographer on its way to an adjacent field. What a showoff!.
WINTER OF THE BARRED OWL
There have been an extraordinary number of Barred Owls sightings in Connecticut and southern New England this winter, so many that they even made it onto a local television news broadcast. I see pictures of Barred Owls posted almost daily on Facebook wildlife photography pages and had friends text me pictures of them from their home or neighborhood wondering what kind of owl it is. Owl irruption years are a well known phenomenon, usually related to Snowy Owls, Great Gray Owls or other northern owls leaving their normal ranges. They fly south, often in great numbers, in search of food during the winter months. When irruption years occur, like the historic Snowy Owl invasion winter of 2013-14, it creates great excitement among birders and nature photography enthusiasts. The Barred Owl irruption this winter has not resulted in quite the same level of enthusiasm, since they are one of the most common owls in Connecticut. But, it's still a rare treat to see a normally well-hidden and nocturnal bird sitting in plain sight during the daytime, especially for newcomers to birding or nature photography.
Owls are rock stars of the bird world, and are one of the most sought after subjects of bird and wildlife photographers. When I first started photographing birds, it was my first sightings of a Short-eared Owl and Great Horned Owl that really lit a fire in me and cemented my lasting passion for photographing birds. For today's novice birder or nature photographer, the sight of a Barred Owl sitting on a bird feeder in their yard or a street sign or telephone pole on the side of the road during the daytime may ignite a similar and lasting love for birds. It's important to remember that it's often some sort of duress, usually a lack of food, that causes large numbers of Snowy Owls or Great Gray Owls to fly great distances from their normal winter range. Owl irruptions often occur after successful breeding seasons, when prey is plentiful and a large number of owl chicks survive the nesting season. When the owl population swells, the competition for food exceeds the local supply, especially in the tough winter months, leading to the nomadic wanderings in search of happier hunting grounds. Similarly, local bird experts believe that Barred Owls had a very prolific nesting season this spring, leading to a greatly increased population, especially of young owls. Since Barred Owls are not prone to flying great distances to find new hunting grounds, the pressure on the local food supply becomes greater. The struggle to find enough food is causing Barred Owls to hunt by night and day. That's what is responsible for the many sightings during the daytime, in more open areas when normally they're found in wooded areas and would be roosting in trees during the day, out of plain sight. This year I have seen Barred Owls hunting in open fields, along river edges and especially along the side of the road, all during the daytime.
While the irruption may lead to many more sightings and unusual photographs of Barred Owls, it's a terrible hardship on the birds. One of the saddest aspects of this irruption year has been the number of dead owls I've seen along the side of the road. I'm not sure why they hunt near the roadways, but I've seen nearly three dozen dead Barred Owls along the along the highways this winter, about ten times more than I can remember seeing any other year. Nature can be cruel and it has a way of keeping wild populations in check. In any normal year a high percentage of young birds of prey don't survive their first year, whether it's from not being successful enough hunters to survive, attacks from other predators or other random fatal mistakes. Competition for the best hunting areas often drives the younger and weaker birds into the least productive and least desirable areas. Sadly, even beyond nature's own checks and balances, hunting along the side of the road is just another peril for them in this winter of the Barred Owl.
MOVING PICTURES
On New Years Day, Jim Brandenburg, one of my favorite nature photographers, and film director Laurent Joffrion launched a video journal, posting a short video of the midwestern wilderness every day for the entire year. Nature 365 http://nature365.tv/ is the result of an accumulation of video clips Brandenburg shot while photographing with DSLR cameras over the past seven years. Brandenburg admits he had no project or idea in mind for them while making them. I love watching these short videos and find them very inspirational, and would encourage anyone who enjoys nature and photography to check them out. I have to confess though, that I have resisted getting into into video for the most part.
Toward the end of my time as a newspaper photographer, for certain assignments there was a push to have us shoot and produce short videos for web viewing, in addition to shooting still pictures for the paper. I always saw this as a "splitting the baby" approach because it didn't allow you to do either job as well as it could be done. In fact, I thought the videos were usually pretty poor quality. It also involved the cumbersome process of carrying two sets of gear and switching back and forth between cameras and digital video equipment. There were times, though, when a video just captured the story better than any still photos could. Sound and motion often reveal far more than a still image and written words can. Now that many DSLR cameras also capture HD video of amazing quality, many creative still photographers have adopted the new technology to produce amazing videos and even full length films. DSLR cameras are better suited to producing cinematic quality video than the lower end digital video equipment we were using.
This winter, inspired by the Nature 365 project, I spontaneously decided to shoot video of a fast moving snow squall crossing the Connecticut River. I made a 90-second video using iMovie that I think captures the feel of the dramatic weather visually, but the sound quality is so poor that it's unusable. My camera's built-in microphone is very limited and proper audio recording suffers without the use of an external video microphone. Since I don't shoot video that often, it seemed superfluous to carry one around with me.
Since making the squall video I have occasionally shot video clips of other situations I was photographing, without really having any idea what to do with them either. Again, they usually suffer from bad audio. Another sound issue that I have encountered is that it's really difficult to record nature in Connecticut for any length of time without some type of man-made noise in the background. Passing traffic, distant power equipment, speed boats on the water or planes flying overhead, some distracting sound can be heard in many of my video clips, even in the deepest woods. This shows how few truly wild places there are in the state, and I think I will appreciate the quiet of true wilderness much more now, if I ever get there again.
This spring I was fortunate to find a Barred Owl nest near my home that I was able to photograph several times over a couple of weeks. It involved a lot of patience, standing still and waiting for something to happen. After getting some still photos, I decided to start shooting video clips of the chicks in action and the adults when they were present. With the camera mounted on a tripod and trained on the nest, alternating between video and still photography was pretty convenient, just a matter of flipping the switch, but the situation didn't allow me to move around much and get different angles to vary the perspective. Using iMovie, I made a basic four-minute video to document the nesting owls. I did not put much into the production of the video, but there are some scenes that just don't translate as well in the still photos I shot. So, here are my moving pictures. Hopefully some day they might end up in something that approaches the beauty of Nature 365. At least it's a start.
P.S. - I reduced the image quality of the original HD files since they take so much time to upload. iMovie is a pretty basic tool compared to the Final Cut software which I used for video editing at the newspaper. If anyone has any suggestions on how to improve the editing and especially the audio in iMovie, please let me know, and definitely check out Nature 365.
THE HOLY GRAIL
Having worked most of my adult life as a photographer, I tend to treat wildlife photography like a job (even though the pay stinks) . Of course, if it was a job it would be one that I really enjoy, but what I mean is that I set goals and try to assign myself projects to work on. Yes, nature is unpredictable and I try to look out for any opportunities that may just pop up, but I also pick specific targets that I try to work on.
This self-assignment approach started when I rekindled my wildlife photography after a six-year hiatus. I was looking through my old slides and saw that I didn't have any good screech owl photos. I was disappointed to have nothing on such a common owl, so I made it my mission to find them. I started looking in suitable habitat, listening for them at night and checking just about every tree hole I walked or drove past. At first I was frustrated and had a fatalistic attitude that I wouldn't ever find something that I was looking so hard for. The breakthrough came after a few months. I was on my way home from work and drove past a tree with a couple holes in it that I'd passed a hundred times before. It was almost dark, but this time I noticed that one of the holes wasn't empty. I backed up and took a few shots out my car window in the marginal light. A few days later, I returned in slightly better light and got a few more shots from my car, since it was a on a busy road with no place to park nearby (I realize that I may not have been the safest driver during this period). The owl did not stay in that spot very long, but a short while later I found another "screech" in a tree on the side of the park road. This one was much better for photography. Over the next several months, I found two more. The flood gates had opened and I soon had hundreds of screech owl photos.
E SCREECH OWL 08-02-1521232OLD LYME, CT Eastern Screech Owl (Otus asio) red phase.
E SCREECH OWL 08-02-1621312NIANTIC, CT Eastern Screech Owl (Otus asio) red phase.
E SCREECH OWL 10-05-0122525LYME , CT Eastern Screech Owl (Otus asio).
Full of confidence that my new approach was foolproof, my next project was to photograph a Great Horned Owl nest. Presto, like magic, two appeared before me. I was on a roll, so logically my next assignment, in keeping with the owl theme, was to find a Barred Owl nest. That's where the wheels ground to a screeching halt, and just fell off altogether. For the past four springs I have been looking for a Barred Owl nest without success. There were a couple close calls, where I'd heard and seen a pair repeatedly in the same location, and was sure they were nesting there. I just couldn't find where. At first it was just frustrating, then as the hours were consumed fruitlessly, it became a slight obsession. As years passed without finding one it became my nemesis, my curse, it became my Holy Grail.
This spring the curse was finally broken, and like the 2004 Boston Red Sox, it happened in the unlikeliest way. I had very little luck finding any nests this spring, and it was getting late in the season. On a drizzly morning I went hiking in a spot I had not been for a couple years carrying only my binoculars, hoping to scout out possible photo opportunities. The trail took me up to a hilltop, and through a hole in the leaves I saw a narrow cavity in a large oak tree. I immediately thought, "Wow, that looks like a perfect nest hole." I trained my binoculars on it, but didn't see anything inside. The hole was about 30 feet up in the tree, which was growing at the bottom of the hill, so from the hilltop it was right at eye level. As if I was willing it to be an owl nest, I stared into the hole with my binoculars for a minute or two, but nothing appeared. I continued down the hill and a hundred yards down the trail when a squirrel suddenly chattered in alarm, clinging to a tree trunk with its tail twitching. The woods erupted with sharp thrush calls, vireo rattles and titmouse whines. Was it me that was causing all the commotion? I stopped walking and scanned the woods for whatever it was that was alarming all the woodland creatures. I stood there for several minutes but didn't see anything. The rain started to pick up and the chatter died down, so I started to walking back the way I came. Something big and brown flew over my head, and down the trail where it just disappeared. I stopped back at the top of the hill and stared back into the tree cavity for a bit and a face appeared.
BARRED OWL 15-05-2883090Barred Owl (Strix varia) at tree cavity nest in Connecticut forest.
A Barred Owl stared out at me, then squeezed out of the hole and flew off. The Holy Grail was finally within reach, but I didn't have my camera with me and had no pictures yet. I returned later that evening and waited under a camouflage blind to see if I could get some pictures, but no owls appeared. A few days later I tried again in the morning, but saw nothing. Was this going to turn out badly? I had the same nervous feeling when the Red Sox came back from 0-3 down to beat the Yankees in the 2004 ALCS. What if they lost to the Cardinals in the World Series? I would be the cruelest failure of all time.
Until I had a picture, I couldn't relax. So I waited, standing under a bag blind for hours. Four hours passed and I started getting hungry. Six hours, still nothing, my back and legs were starting to ache. Eight hours, nothing, I think I was starting to hallucinate. Finally, late in the afternoon, I heard a faint two-syllable call. Then, again, a little closer. At the bottom of the tree cavity, the top of a fuzzy white head appeared. A minute later an adult owl landed on a branch just above the nest. With my lens trained on the hole, I didn't dare move. The owl dropped down into the nest and reappeared with the remains of a bird of some type. With the camera on silent drive, I managed about five or six shots before the owl flew off. Again, the light was pretty low, and the shutter settings were marginal. I checked the pictures in the LCD and there was hope. I drove home and immediately downloaded them and checked them on the computer. At last, the Holy Grail was in my grasp.
Over the next two weeks, I visited several times and got to watch the owl chicks grow and make their way out of the tree cavity. I got to see the adults roosting in the nearby woods, and bring food to the nest, usually once during the day. Occasionally other hikers walked by on the trail while I was there. I was dressed in a mesh bug suit and hiding under a camouflage cloth just off the trail and realized this could be seen by some (or most) as a bit strange and even threatening. Most didn't even notice me, and to the few that did, I explained that I was photographing birds, without revealing the specifics. The owls knew when I was there, but I kept my distance and they seemed to tolerate my presence.
One of the highlights of my nest watch was seeing a chick climb out of the tree cavity for the first time. At first they could barely be seen in the bottom of the nest, but as they grew, they appeared more frequently and began flapping their wings inside the hole. One day, I was bored and waiting for something to happen. Suddenly, a downy white chick lurched into the bright light and, using its beak, pulled its way out onto the edge of the cavity. It was quite unsteady and I was petrified it would fall out of the nest, but it propped itself up and stared out into the woods for a while. Another highlight was seeing a chick studying a small flock of songbirds that were flitting around it in alarm as it perched in the opening. It was also a treat to see the adults bringing food to the nest and watching the nest almost invisibly from nearby.
As they grew, I wondered how the chicks would leave the nest since it was up about 30 feet, and there were no branches below the cavity. I arrived one day and found one chick out on the trunk of the tree where it forked, about four feet above the nest cavity. The other was perched in the opening of the nest hole and was trying to walk its way up the tree, but could not make it all the way. The chick above the nest was climbing up and down the trunk and hopping from one fork to the other. The adult owls were close by and seemed more nervous this time. I took some pictures and video and decided to leave after a while, wondering if it was the last time I'd see them.
Barred Owl (Strix varia) nest in Connecticut forest.
Barred Owl (Strix varia) nest in Connecticut forest.
BARRED OWL 15-06-0983838Barred Owl (Strix varia) roosting near nest in Connecticut forest.
Barred Owl (Strix varia) nest in Connecticut forest.
BARRED OWL 15-06-0983804Barred Owl (Strix varia) adult near nest in Connecticut forest.
BARRED OWL 15-06-1184036Barred Owl (Strix varia) chick branching from tree cavity nest in Connecticut forest.
Barred Owl (Strix varia) nest in Connecticut forest.
BARRED OWL 15-06-1184099Barred Owl (Strix varia) chick branching from tree cavity nest in Connecticut forest.
When I returned late the next day, I looked from a distance with my binoculars, but there was no sign of the chicks in the tree. As I started to walk down the trail toward the spot where I had been photographing from, one of the adults flew out and landed in a tree just in front of me, staring down at me. The chicks had likely branched out of the nest, still unable to fly, and were most vulnerable at this time. I decided to leave well enough alone, whispered a quiet thank you under my breath, and retreated back to my car. The Holy Grail was finally attained, I was grateful for the time I had with them. With my faith in the self-assignment approach restored, there are plenty of new Holy Grails on my list to find now.