Do you still sing of the mountain bed we made of limbs and leaves?
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| Sunday, November 14th, 2010 | | 8:05 pm |
40 Days In The Neon Haze, Festering Dreams Are Dressed In Vagaries.
Day 1 - this ship rocks hard. Literally and figuratively. I can't believe I didn't hurl, and was bold enough to eat halfway through the run out past the pribs. (pribilof islands) Day 2 - nothing compensates for a cool captain on a boat. They switched me to a bigger bunk. Only problem is, that's just more room for my body to roll around in, but I'll take it. Day 3 - started sampling. The second haul was in the middle of the night, and it was quite a sight to see miles of black 5-footish waves lit under a clear sky and a full moon. The kind of beauty few will ever experience, and I certainly relished the moment.
 View from my sample station at the roller pit. Note the cod about to have the hook forcibly removed by the crucifier.
Day 4 - already so busy, the days have lost all meaning. I almost didn't even realize it was Sunday. Certain songs just seem so out of place in the dirty bowels of a fish processor, to the point I will smile and laugh out loud when they come on the speaker. "Time After Time" is one of those. Day 5 - Sampling in 20 foot swells. I'm exposed more than anyone else on the boat, up on the weather deck. The crew lashed a makeshift seat to the railing in the form of a giant bouncy-ball bouy, and some lashing between the rails to make myself feel protected, but it's little comfort in bad weather. I confess, I secretly love being out in the billowing surge though. I feel like lieutenant Dan in that hurricane, asking the man upstairs if that's all he's got. I'm dressed well, and of course wearing a life vest with a strobe light just in case (and very glad that the crew performed well in a mock-up man overboard drill), but it's still quite a feeling to get hit in the back unawares by wave spray that cleared the other side of the boat (I'm 15 feet above the waterline to give you sense of scale). I can't help but smile a little when an explosive collision knocks the boat around while I'm holding on to the railing and trying to see the fish being hauled in. It's supposed to blow fifty by the end of today. Bring it on. Wow, my noise canceling headphones continue to be a very worthwhile investment. Now when in the loud factory area, I can dull the roar and enjoy some tunes. Great for on deck too. The Flaming Lips and Pinback are my two favorites while outside. (and shout out to mike for sending me the new Of Montreal. I really needed to hear that album.
Killer Whale bull checking out the boat. Day 6 - What a nice surprise to walk out and spot a killer whale bull a hundred feet from the roller pit to start the morning. I guess no halibut will make it to the surface for me to fret over today, and it's no sweat for the fisherman who don't have to worry about carefully releasing any halibut, since the orcas are great at picking the tastiest morsels off the line, leaving the codfish for the boat. It was awesome watching one of the Orcas apparently surfing storm swells for fun.
Killer Whale fluke, spotted before it got stormy. You know in star trek type movies how they always show everyone stumbling about the ship after taking enemy fire? I think I know what that feels like now after the last massive wave bombardment. And I'm insane enough to go out and sample in a few minutes. Update, I had to cut my sample short cause it was just getting too hairy out there. Sat in the wheelhouse getting to know the mate while watching the impressive waves instead. No data is worth going overboard for. Supposedly, this storm created 45-foot waves out by the aleutians. Day 7- finally getting better sleep. It's all about wedging yourself in a corner, and hopefully having the rocking translate into some kind of pleasant activity in a dream. Day 8 - heading northwest looking for better fish. If we keep working this way, we'll get to the Russian border. We're at 178 degrees west or so, and a degree isn't all that much distance at these northerly latitudes. Day 9 - first reminder of winter, got snow flurries today. Not too surprising, as we are well into the range where there will be sea ice in a few months. Short-tailed albatrosses following us, making the captain nervous. They are endangered and very rare, and could potentially shut down the season or worse if we snag one.
Short-tailed Albatross in flight. Day 10 - still haven't gone to bed yet, the random sample table tells me to sample 4 hauls in a row. Luckily I will utilize the random break table at 5am so I only have to do 3. It's a weird world using all these random tables to tell you when to do everything. Day 11- Saw more short-tailed albatross than I had in my life up to today. Possibly 2 dozen. They weren't very boat shy, and the skipper decided to move east and hopefully lose them rather than risk catching one. I had a rare haul off in good weather and got pictures, though I'm annoyed I had a beautiful Jaeger right in front of me and couldn't get the shot. I miss my old pro camera. Also had a gull land on my head briefly, mistaking me for an inanimate pole while I was shooting.
Short-tailed Albatross sub-adult charging into a group of feeding Fulmars.
Adult (Or almost adult) Short-tailed albatross. Note how the feathers are mostly white, with some gold on the head, but the same bubble-gum pink bill. Day 12 - best day for gull-watching, id'd all possible in-range gulls, including herring, slaty-backed, glaucous, glaucous-winged and both kittiwake species. Used this information to deduce that we were closer to land, and sure enough, we worked close to the island of St Matthew, though it's still just out of view. Stupid arctic storm is moving in, I was getting blasted with snow at times. Luckily I have this haul off, cause the last thing I saw outside was raging pee-sized hail pounding the deck.
Black-legged Kittiwake, a samall, cute gull species. Day 13 - the most common word uttered amongst the crew is a colloquialism involving bovine excrement. The second most common word is the F bomb. So if you randomly pick anything (let's say, the weather for an example) and apply the adverb form of the latter in front of the former, adding a dreadful inflection for humor, you too can talk like a hardcore fisherman. Day 14 - slept for two hours after an all-day sample fest, and felt like a zombie when 2amhad me on the weather deck again. But I smiled for awhile after I got to watch a Least Auklet foraging for scraps near the discard chute, then flying back several times with these cute fluttering wing-beats, then swimming around right under me like a miniature penguin.. Imagine a bird that swims and looks like a penguin, flies and floats like a duck, and is the size of a sparrow. I think they must be nocturnal. BTW, our cook is awesome, and breakfast pizza is the best culinary discovery that has not caught on (yet). Back to sleep for a 50 mile run. The fish just aren't easy to find, or else they are down there but the crabs eat the bait first. I guess crabs are really thick up this far north. BTW, getting a king crab in your sample is an adventure, those things are lively, and will climb out of your baskets and move faster than you'd think. Day 14 - I would kill for a masseuse (sp) right now. Boats and sleep deprivation do bad things to your back, as well as your mind. Day 15 - Bruce (Captain) finally found some good fish, so everyone is happier and busier. I slept on and off after sampling 8 of the last 9 hauls. Day 16 - there are some moments you'll always remember at this job, no matter how brain-dead zombified you get. This morning was one of those. I climbed out of the din of the factory just before a cold, clear sunrise, and everything was quiet. Jet black snow squalls were visible in patches around the horizon as we floated on a lazy sea of glass. White seabirds were everywhere, illuminated by our own lights as they bobbed all around the suddenly lifeless, silent boat. Even my soundtrack cooperated as "Wish You Were Here" came on, followed by Neil Young and "Ambulance Blues". While standing there on a large, deserted boat deck, I suddenly imagined myself with a dance partner, swaying together, adrift on a barren sea. And that's when I knew I needed more sleep, because reality was becoming indistinguishable from my dreams. Slept for 10 hours, got up for dinner, then slept almost 8 hours. Love it when the random sample table gives me two hauls off. Day 17 - Got pictures of a killer whale today. Beautiful and calm. Saw St. Matthew Island for the first time as well, a barren, pretty rock with only seabirds as residents.
St. Matthew Island on the right, with a large rock on the left (Can't remember the name). The only land I saw for forty days. Day 18 - doing my part to help free-up space in the freezer by eating a bowl of ice cream for breakfast after a 24 hour sample fest. 
The boat began looking like a gull colony that neither I nor the skipper had seen the likes of previously. Teams working in shifts still couldn't clean all the droppings off on the way back to town.
Day 19 - f'ng bullcrap! Had to do my last sample with stinging sleet hitting me in the face. Still in love with the experience though... Except for ripping cod ovaries out for maturity scans. Not in love with that so much, though I'm getting way more comfortable with cod internal anatomy than I ever thought I would.
Day 20 - Holy weird boat dreams. Made peace with a bitter ex, had an enlightening conversation with an old crush under the stars, and singlehandedly made myself famous by artfully destroying a stupid awards show on live TV. Only thing missing was a current love interest. Maybe that's why I'm writing a short-film script in my spare time. The characters are all fictional, I swear. Day 21 - 3 weeks, really? Hopefully 2 more to go. Some days I want to do this job forever, others I'm wondering why I came back here. This morning was one of the latter. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot is going to be the name of my new band if I ever make music in a band again. Day 22 - had a gull land on my head while sampling today. Managed to fight the initial urge to jerk my head around when I felt the bird unexpectedly, so he sat there for a few minutes. Bruce noticed after a while while he was driving the boat and managed to grab a picture after giving me an initial "what the hell" over the deck speakers. The funniest was the other gull that landed 2 feet away, and slowly realized I was a person, and kept looking at my face, then the other bird, then back to me for a few seconds before flying off as if to say "I'm having no part in this"
A most unexpected and magical moment. Thanks so much to Bruce for getting a picture. Day 23 - random songbird landed on the boat. Not able to ID, but am looking at possibilities. We're far enough north it could well have been one of the interesting varieties that migrate to western Alaska from Siberia. Hopefully I'll get a better look with light later today. Day 24 - it's funny what you start daydreaming about after 3 weeks on a floating prison. I find myself fantasizing about buying a truck with a camper shell and just driving around like a vagabond for a year. Being homeless and on the road seems very appealing right now. Could be a fun year. Day 25 - fishing is still slow, so the mood isn't the best, though I gotta say this is a fun crew for the most part. Turns out that deadliest catch is coming up to the same area we are fishing, as King Crab season opens today. I guess the Cornelia Marie and a chase boat are on their way.
My view of a large cod being hauled onto the boat by the rollerman. Day 26 - 15-foot waves are back, which feel even worse in this roll-happy converted crab boat. Thank heaven I won't be out here more than a couple more weeks. My bunk is perpendicular to the worst roll action, which means I sometimes wake up sliding head or feet first into the ends, rather awkwardly. Just finished the roughest sample I've ever done. Gotta say, it may be cold, but it feels so exhilarating to be on deck feeling the raw power of the ocean heaving beneath you, and the spray flying over and into you in a 40 knot wind. By the end I had figured out how to hold and write on my clipboard without relinquishing my death grip on the railings, which came in very handy. There's nothing like the moment you hear the captain telling you to prepare yourself for an incoming wave that you can only vaguely sense coming up behind you. Saw a crab boat out fishing next to us maybe a mile or less away. Day 27 - we moved 50 miles. Weather was rough but never underestimate being tired, half a muscle relaxer and an Advil PM to put you to bed for 12 hours. Still was up for a couple hours to watch "the Life Aquatic" before fading. I have to admit to getting a little teary-eyed when everyone puts their hand on Steve Zissou in the sub at the end as the mythical jaguar shark swims away. Day 28 - sampled in brutal cold sleet with big-ish waves at midnight to start the day, then sampled in a brutally cold morning after that. Watched a 900 hook, half-mile long string come up with only 24 cod, one snail, and a skate (something like a stingray, also related to sharks. They cut the wings off and use them as a very tasty imitation scallop). That is the definition of crappy fishing. It's so bad that most of us just make jokes about it, even though the reality is that we are looking at a really long trip to fill up the boat, possibly over forty days. (the normal trip length is 30 days, even in mediocre fishing). We may even have to turn back before we are full because we may run out of bait or fuel first. After that horrid haul, we are relocating even farther NW. Day 29 - Crusty Polish guys named Stan are always cool. I've met them on two boats now, and am sharing a room with one currently. We talk photography, and he tells me I have to visit Prague. And he's the man when it comes to using the gaff as the fish are coming in. I've been working on my gaff skills as well, it really is an art to wield a big metal hook to grab then launch fish, and it's weird to say, but there is something about the sound of a properly gaffed cod that is pleasant. It's a rich percussive sound from the metal striking the fish's head, and then resonating inside the oral cavity and operculum, almost like a tight snare drum. I bet the massively inflated swim bladder from a fish that was just dragged up from 300 feet or more adds to the resonance. 30 - still crappy, wavy, and cold. But I'm not sure what else to expect from being at 62 degrees north and 179 degrees west at the tail-end of October. The days are getting really short now, so I really savor the day hauls. Stormy clear bright moon hauls are pretty nice too. Day 31 - another day of rough seas. Got sprayed enough yesterday, now that the boat is over half full and riding noticeably lower in the water. With that in mind, I'm just taking a day off from sampling until it gets a little safer out there. Was thinking maybe I was just being lazy, but the skipper was relieved I wasn't going to be on deck tonight, and was actually about to advise me against going out, so I knew I made the right call. Apparently the observers on our sister vessels all disappeared for the whole day, so I must be hardcore. Day 30 - set a new sleep record, remaining unconscious for more than 18 out of 20 hours. The rest was good, but then rack back starts setting in, and I knew I had to get out. Did take another haul off for weather, remembering to be safe, but things were calm enough (only blowing 35-40) to jump back out into the melée at night just to get sprayed a bit, and remind myself how good it feels to be alive. I love my job because I get to leave the bitching of cranky fisherman behind and just experience the ocean itself on the thin film that separates it from the air. Best moment today was coming in after my first sample of the evening, soaking and cold, sticking my head inside while Bruce (the captain) is eating his steak dinner. I look him in the eye coldly and say "it must be nice," shaking my head in mock disgust as he sits dry and warm with hot food in the cozy galley. I'm usually the one that gets that sort of treatment from the crew, so it was fun to give some back in jest. Bruce is a good sport and a great captain, and had a really good laugh at it. Actually, as I think about it, Bruce is the only skipper who I've ever been comfortable enough with that kind of joking around. Great guy, and another member of the cult of Lebowski. The Dude abides. Day 31 - we've actually found reasonable fishing, and calm weather. Two rare things this time of year. Which is great because I really needed a shower, and the one on this boat is very awkward to downright dangerous in rough seas. Nothing to hold onto, and heaven help you if you want to get soap on your feet. Day 32 - Wow!! Never thought I'd be able to stargaze out here, but this morning before I went to bed it just got perfectly clear above my head, and glassy beneath my feet and the stars went on forever until they were swallowed by a black sea. No Aurora visible unfortunately, but I swear Venus or whatever bright planet it was twinkled different colors. Or else 24 hours of sampling was getting to me. Day 33 - another beautiful day by Bering sea standards. The boat may actually fill up before we are forced to head back in a few days. At this point I'm just daydreaming about what I'm going to do with myself this winter.
A skate being landed with a great look from the rollerman. Day 34 - and just like that it went from beautiful weather to 50 mph winds, nasty waves, and no sampling. I don't mind taking a weather break, the haul before was just getting ridiculous anyway. I had to turn around and look over my shoulder the whole time to avoid getting icy spray in the face at 40 mph or more. It was uncomfortable, but I was sure glad to be turned that direction when I felt the mushy thump of gull droppings hitting me in the back of the head in the slipstream. Day 35 - the weather has gotten so bad that we aren't even fishing, just gently jogging through 30 foot seas. Everything becomes absurd in this sort of weather, whether it's getting a bowl of ice cream, trying to sleep, or going to the bathroom. I must say though, these crab boats (the Prowler is a converted crab boat) are built to handle the weather in safety, though not style. The tall, aft (rear) bridge is safe from getting washed out by all but the mightiest of waves, something I couldn't say about my last longliner. Though we still just had a massive wave take out some lights on a mast 15 feet above the deck. Day 36 - was able to sample one haul today. Still crappy weather. I had to brave the snow and 45 mph winds. Right as I stepped back from the railing upon completing my third and final sample, a massive wave (chest high from where I stood on the weather deck) swept through where I had just been standing. Needless to say, that was my hint to take it easy from here on out. My only goal at this point is to make it back to civilization. BTW, the Pixies song "wave of mutilation" is a trip to listen to on deck in big swells. Day 37 - I love sitting in the wheelhouse chatting about fishing, adventures, or science stuff while watching huge waves roll in. Day 38 - sanity has returned with the announcement that we only have enough fuel for 3 more days of fishing. Day 39 - somehow got sunburned today during a respite from the bad weather. Really made me chuckle. Day 40 - holy crap, how did I end up out at sea this long? Just found out we are heading back right now. 2 and a half days and I'll be in Dutch. Happy hallo-freakin'-ween, I'm going to be a crusty fisherman today. Day 41 - nothing but movies, laziness, bumming out, and laptop time. I did borrow the pressure washer for an hour to blast all my gear so I won't have to scrub it by hand in anchorage before I turn it in. Day 42 - this has been my longest voyage ever, in some ways the best, in some ways the worst. But words can not describe the feelings that go through your head when you know you are about to be free, on land, with money and time to enjoy all the things I really want to for the next couple months. Twelve more hours to go (thank heaven the weather not only held, but gave us a big push from behind today), my data has been checked repeatedly, my logbook has been beaten to death for any missing details that will slow me down in debriefing. I guess it's just like being a kid on Christmas eve unable to sleep, except with a sense of accomplishment as well. Listen to "skyway" by the apples in stereo if you're bored. I think a lot of those lyrics capture the essence of my current insanity, plus the song rocks.
Entering Dutch Harbor at the crack of dawn, which is about 10am in early November.
| | Monday, August 9th, 2010 | | 6:21 pm |
| | Sunday, July 18th, 2010 | | 7:19 pm |
Timpanogos for the first time.
Not sure how I waited this long after so many years in Utah, but it turned out to be an awesome hike, though crowded obviously.
Lupin along the trail as it climbed upwards.
Some cool bee mimic on a composite flower.
Seriously lanky columbines.
A look north toward the pfiefferhorn, one of my favorite peaks ever.
I knew Timp was lush, but some of these flower patches were unbelievable.
After climbing out of two different basins, suddenly the massif becomes visible.
Every water souce falls at some point on this mountain. Even the little ones.
Approaching the saddle.
The one part where the trail appeared to get a little sketchy. There were steps blasted into the side of the mountain.
Looking toward the valley from the staircase.
Final ascent.
On top, with the throngs of people on a saturday. It was boy scout signal day, so there were also scouts with signaling mirrors on all the peaks around.
Looking down on the snowfield, and Emerald Lake, getting excited for the next leg of the trip that will spit me out there.
Wow, Utah lake actually looks kinda pretty when you're over a mile above it.
After even getting buzzed by an aerobatic plane, it was time to head down. I had a fun loop ahead of me.
Looking back at the summit as I continued south. That old structure for surveyors looks like it should be a sno-cone shack.
This stretch was the best of the day. I actually got some solitude (I guess a lot of people didn't want the whole loop), and just look at the view south.
Looking south to Mt Nebo, the one peak in the Wasatch taller than Timpanogos. Hopefully I'll bag that one in August.
The big payoff of the loop is sliding down this snowfield. But it was a lot steeper than I expected, at least the first little bit, so I had to pause to contemplate the infinite.
I guess I'm going for it.
Totally awesome!! Here's some brave souls behind me that went for it. I saw my first Black Rosy Finch right here, and he came 10 feet from me, but my camera was still tucked away for safekeeping.
The geology is impressive. This wall beneath the summit is only a small fraction of the 10,000 feet of carboniferous limestone that was deposited here.
A nanny and her two kids on the precipice.
I kept wondering what the goat on the left was doing, then I realized that he must be drinking from a trickle.
More of the herd.
A look at the snowfield from the main meadow. I almost went into Emerald Lake at the final slide, barely visible.
Gorgeous tundra. I hear the peak season for this stuff is still a month away.
But there is already some good blooming action going.
Waterfalls are everywhere with the limestone and glaciation.
A panel from a B-25 that crashed into the side of Timp in a snowstorm in 1955. It seemed worth another mile to check it out.
More wreckage, a big radial engine.
It was like visiting a grave. Beautiful, yet somber. 5 people died here in the crash.
I'm such a Coloradan, couldn't resist this columbine shot.
Heading back down the two lower basins to the car. I believe the parking lot is visible in the middle. Unfortunately, this is about where I realized I had a blister on my heel. But it was totally worth it.
Bluebell festival.
Some healthy lupin.
Golden-mantled Ground Squirrel, as I stopped for the last of my water.
This Blue Grouse (Dusky Grouse now I guess) just walked out in front of me on the trail, and seemed more worried about courting than running. Must be part of the defense strategy if you're a male grouse.
I wasn't sure what to do as he sauntered off, but he seemed to respond to pishing, at least for a moment. Even heard some light, low vocalizations from those air pouches. And then it was off to the car, and the nearest Wendy's.
a | | Saturday, July 3rd, 2010 | | 8:29 pm |
Boulder County Birding
 Tiger Swallowtail butterfly on a thistle at Walden Ponds.
"Snow" from all the cottonwoods.
Male Robin, foraging. Note the toadlet in his bill.
Weedy beauty.
Male Downy Woodpecker extracting plant parasites from a thistle.
Bullock's Oriole, foraging in the open.
Robin giving me a nice look.
House Wren.
Bee mimic on a thistle.
Blue-gray Gnatcatcher.
Yellow-breasted Chat.
Lark Sparrow, the cutest face of all the sparrows.
| | Friday, July 2nd, 2010 | | 8:25 pm |
| | Thursday, July 1st, 2010 | | 5:54 pm |
| | Wednesday, June 30th, 2010 | | 5:21 pm |
| | Sunday, June 27th, 2010 | | 3:32 pm |
San Juan Backpacking, Day 1 & 2
OK, It's been awhile. I swear I am going to try and keep up this blog again. A lot of crazy things have happened in my personal life, but needless to say I am back to my old adventuring ways. Enjoy.
Near Owl Creek Pass as we drove up from Montrose. We camped at the trailhead near Silverjack Reservoir.
More cool spires as we started our hike monday morning. Remnants of massive volcanism all across the San Juan range and others, that would've made much of Colorado uninhabitable at the time.
Dan heading up the valley. Lots of big meadows at the bottom.
Waterfalls were everywhere.
Closer look.
Fording a stream in the upper basin.
Uncompahgre peak looming over our awesome, fully-stocked base camp. Thanks to whoever left a huge stack of wood from last year.
Tuesday morning, we headed up to the upper valley for some exploration. This is the Matterhorn, with the even crazier Wetterhorn in the Background.
Random leftovers from the minig heyday in the San Juans.
Flowers above the valley, looking south towards the bulk of the San Juans.
Me looking like an alpine tourist. It was fun to go a little slower and focus on wildlife-viewing and photography just as much as summiting. Dan got so many great wildlife shots with his amazing lens, I focused mostly on landscape stuff.
Nearing the final scramble to the summit, a steep pile of rocks. Dan is shooting the Wetterhorn.
Looking towards the Wetterhorn. Very imposing.
Dan on the trickiest part of the whole scramble.
Almost there. Uncompahgre peak is in the background.
YAY!!! it was pretty awesome to make it. This mountain is so far my favorite 13er in Colorado. A scramble perfect for our skill and comfort level, with a nice adrenaline rush.
Dan at the top, looking towards Wetterhorn again.
Looking NW, towards the Cimarron ridge I believe.
Dan working on his panoramas. We saw swifts up there blowing by, amazing birds in an amazing setting.
Dan on the Downclimb.
One of the few groups we ran into the whole trip, making their way up the mountain after just bagging Wetterhorn. Made me really want to bag the Wetterhorn someday.
Moseying on down.
We returned to find a marmot happily destroying the foam on our trekking poles, presumably on a quest for salt, accumulated in the grips from miles of sweat.
Did I do that?
Descending with a view of Uncompahgre, forshadowing future days perhaps.
Floral outcrop.
Dan stalking a couple Rosy Finches, beautiful residents of the tundra
Small Cascade we drank from on the way down
More cascades in beautiful high elevation meadows.
Me getting artsy and flowery with my photography.
More falls.
Uncompahgre Peak in the alpenglow.
Last site before long night's sleep. We hoped to climb up later in the expedition.
| | Saturday, January 9th, 2010 | | 11:59 am |
Arizona over Christmas - The Sonoran Desert Museum, and Camping in the Mountains
Havalinas at the Sonoran Desert Museum. I can't believe we didn't check out this place last year with Dan, but they don't allow dogs, so it might not have been good for Nellie. Lots of open space, cool animal exhibits, and a good assortment of wild birds around, before you even consider the aviary.
Josh and Caleb, My nephews, playing with a bronze coyote as we continued our exploration.
Captive Brown Bear.
And a captive Cougar.
My sister liza trying to hear like a bat in the cave exhibit.
The State Bird of Arizona, a Cactus Wren. They were everywhere of course.
Curve-billed Thrasher taking a break from foraging.
Male Phainopepla. You could see the telltale mistletoe around that grows in close association with these birds.
Broad-billed Hummingbird at the hummingbird exhibit.
Maybe John T can confirm this, but my best guess is a Black-chinned Hummingbird sub-adult.
After focusing on the largest flock of Lesser Goldfinches I'd ever seen, I suddenly got a glimpse of this big red bird, my first Cardinal sighting. Of course, he was not very photogenic, and flew off here.
Farther down the path to the aviary, I got my first real good look at a Pyrrhuloxia.
After some careful stalking, this bird gave me a glorious photo lit well in the late afternoon sun.
This Northern Bobwhite and the next few pictures were grabbed inside the sweet, outdoor aviary on the grounds. As a bird photographer, I was like a kid in a candy store, but unfortunately was fighting some seriously dwindling light under the canopy in places as the sun got lower.
Female Cardinal.
Another Female.
And a flashy male.
Gilded Flicker.
Another Cactus Wren, outside the Beaver exhibit.
Desert Bighorn Sheep.
A Coyote that let me get a shot at sunset as we drove out. Not bad for a shot from the drivers seat.
We camped on the road to Mt. Lemmon, part way up the mountain, in scrub habitat. Caleb seemed to enjoy using my pillow as a hat.
Now there is an evil child.
Liza enjoying herself.
Yours truly having a good time.
Josh grubbing out.
Who needs fancy camping equipment for a 20 degree night when you have loads of bedding?
First appearence of a family of Mexican Jays in the morning, to forage through our campsite.
Canyon Towhee picking up graham cracker crumbs.
The Jays were all about the marshmallows. They are not quite as bold as Gray Jays however, I couldn't get any of them to actually land on me.
They were very thourough.
My winning shot of the day.
Enjoying a scenic overlook before retreating to warmer elevations for the rest of the trip.
 A Verdin in the parking lot at Sweet Tomatoes where we stopped for lunch. Teeny birds, this was an unikely place to nail the best shot I've yet managed of these cuties.
One more look at the same bird, showing his foraging technique. | | Tuesday, August 25th, 2009 | | 9:35 pm |
| | Saturday, August 1st, 2009 | | 12:02 am |
| | Friday, July 31st, 2009 | | 11:10 pm |
First mountain summit (over 1500 feet) since my ankle was crushed
I was happy, to be sure.  After a sweet 4wd ride up in Dans jeep, we got to start the hike fairly close to treeline, I think around 11,000 feet. Nice wildflower meadows.
More Clark's Nutcrackers around than I'd ever seen before. Here's a pair that seemed to have a nest in the tree they are in.
An interesting moth that seemed rather unique to me.
And suddenly as we left the trees, we spotted a Prairie Falcon buzzing around low.
Same falcon.
The hike had been sparse for wildlife up to this point, so we had to try and capture this Pika, or Rocky Mountain Hamster, as I sometimes think of them.
And as we climbed above the trees, we spotted lots of columbine bunches. easy to see why they are the state flower, I don't think I'd ever noticed them all the way into the tundra before. Note the teeny thrip that the sharp macro lens managed to capture on the lower right.
Alpine view of a Columbine bunch. If you don't like flower shots, you may want to stop looking, because I had to fully enjoy the use of my old high quality macro lens.
More gratuitous close-ups.
Portrait of a bumblebee on a thistle.
Random beatle (meloidae, if I remember my entomolgy... big if) on a mountain potentilla.
More flowers. I noticed what appear to be little red mites in the picture after the fact.
Yeah, I like flowers!!
a grizzled old marmot.
I love how you can see the skyline in his eyes.
In all the insanity that was to follow, this ended up being the only shot captured that included the summit of 14,000 ft Longs peak, blurred into the background, even at F-22.
Better look at the adorable and ubiquitous pika.
Out of nowhere, a pair of Brown-capped Rosy-Finches flew in and began foraging on the ridgeline, almost oblivious to us. Beautiful birds, they were so busy feeding, they paid no mind to us.
Too bad they were so busy feeding, they didn't sit still. Tricky to shoot, even when they were close.
Alpine sunflowers at the summit of St. Vrain Peak.
As I was catching up to Dan, and looking at the last series of shots on my camera, I suddenly saw movement, and spotted this Ptarmigan. She had almost let me step on her before she finally flushed. Then she gave me the eye. This was with my macro/portrait lens. She was that close, and I was still in flower mode.
She then laid low, and walked to a spot where her camoflage would be put to good use. As the Prairie falcon blew by again, I realized just how important that defense must be to these ground dwelling birds, and it shows.
Portrait. What a cooperative subject. But spotting them in the first place is what is hard. I certainly wouldn't have noticed the bird had I not flushed her.
We got to a spot further past the summit for an ideal panorama, and dan inadvertantly flushed this moth out of the grass when he set up the tripod.
Me holding the same moth as it warms up, so it can fly to a safer spot where it won't be bothered by mountain tourists.
While setting up for the panorama, I had no idea this would be the end. We wanted to wait for the small patch of cloud covering Longs peak here to dissipate.
And then all sorts of clouds swirled in.
and then the rain came. It was getting bad, but it turned out we had those awesom disposable ponchos, in addition to raingear. Time to sit, munch, and wait.
after it was clear that things were only getting worse, we headed back. What a waste of a tripod haul. It was actually a bit dicey in the fog. It would be easy to end up in the wrong drainage, and then we could end up miles from the car. Luckily we had it figured out.
Indian Paintbrush, using a thin depth of focus in the low light.
Dripping daisy.
Interesting Infloresence that I had not noticed before.
When we got back to the jeep, I saw some birds, and gave a chickadee call, only to have a couple curious and friendly Nuthatches (red-breasted) show up and check us out.
| | 11:06 pm |
| | Sunday, July 19th, 2009 | | 1:08 pm |
| | Tuesday, July 14th, 2009 | | 10:46 pm |
| | 10:25 pm |
Discover of a hidden swamp paradise in Provo Canyon
 Started the day with a nice look at a muskrat out of the water as I started walking down a trail.
 Then had a great look at a Yellow Warbler. Too bad he didn't stick around to fix the metering.
Nesting Robin.
Heard a lot of Catbirds, but this was the only one that stayed in the open for me.
Walked up to a small gap in the willows, and found an amazing hidden world. The Waxwings were as surprised to see me as I was to see them.
Another Cedar Waxwing.
Mallard Duckling
Momma keeping an eye out.
Warbler collecting bugs like everyone else.
There was so much to shoot, so much activity. I wasn't even trying to get 3 birds in the shot here, but it happened. Catbird, Song Sparrow, and Violet-green Swallow.
Drab, unidentified swallow.
Violet-green Swallow, female.
And a male.
Another male.
Yellow-warbler.
Another Warbler.
Song-sparrow and Waxwing.
Gray Catbird collecting bugs.
Muskrat.
Swallowtail Butterfly.
| | 10:06 pm |
| | 9:42 pm |
Birding Utah Lake
 Started with this baby grebe. Not sure what it was until...
I saw it with mom. Not sure which Pied-billed grebe is cuter.
This marsh wren gave me a good look. I will have to buy this lens. I actually didn't get as close as my previous best marsh wren shot, and the lens has the same 300mm reach, but the resolving power let me crop a lot more and still look ok.
Singing so hard, he has to close his eyes.
Coot baby.
Coot Parenting.
Ruddy Duck.
Mourning Dove
Yellow-warbler
Random sunflower.
Almost drove right past this guy. Finally, a perfectly lit, close look at an Eastern Kingbird as I left the marsh.
Boy was I surprised to find this bullsnake out on the sidewalk as I pulled up to my house.
| | Friday, July 3rd, 2009 | | 4:37 pm |
| | Sunday, June 28th, 2009 | | 12:09 am |
I've gone mad for birding.
Due to a stupid quirk, I ended up with a rental of a very impressive professional lens for the week. So, here are my first real attempts at this unfamiliar set-up, on a manic birding day that had me ranging around northern Utah.  First photo op of the day, the beautiful and melodic Western Meadowlark.
Red-winged Blackbird, another Ubiquitous resident of the area, especially near the wetlands.
Ring-necked Pheasant in the distance.
Another Pheasant. It almost appears that the flashy males deliberately draw attention away from their more inconspicous mates.
Western Kingbird removing the legs from his breakfast before eating th body. Not perfect focus or lighting, but I love the capture.
A jumpy Snowy Egret, I'm assuming this is a male who is either trying to get some action, or is just being territorial to the other egrets just out of the shot.
Cinnamon Teal hurrying back to the water, like a celebrity escaping the paparazzi. Luckily, I won this battle.
Black-necked Stilt.
Barn Swallow perched.
White-faced Ibis.
Great Blue Heron on a flyby.
Cliff Swallow in mid-air. In a lot of ways, this is the picture I am most proud of from the day.
Cinnamon Teal in flight.
Cormorant.
Black-crowned Night Heron.
Aerial Barn Swallow.
Another Barn Swallow.
Another Meadowlark. I love the statement here, that mans arbitrary boundaries mean nothing in the wild world.
Same Meadowlark flying away.
Parting shot of the same bird.
Long-billed Curlew vocalizing. I didn't even realize that I must be near a nest, and they do a similar move as killdeer (the adults will distract you to lure your attention toward them by making noise and letting you approach).
Curlew in flight.
Squawking and flying. They really do sound similar to a killdeer, or snipe, with more power behind the voice.
Baby curlews!!! I'd never seen them before. There were three of them, and an adult nearby. They look almost full size, but you can see how the bill is not full-grown yet.
An Ibis engaged in preening.
And the same bird feeding.
Mated pair of American Avocets.
A single avocet, appearing almost contemplative of his reflection (really just looking for bugs)
Final look at a feeding avocet.
This poor night heron was being harried mercilessly by a kingbird. The kingbird continued despite a lot of very vocal protests by the heron. I wonder if herons ever do raid nests, or this is just the typical over-aggresive response by territorial nesting birds?
And a few hummingbird shots to try and test out the fast borrowed lens.
I never really ID'd any of these for sure with the book, but I'm pretty sure this one is a Black-chinned Hummingbird anyway.
Hitting the air brake.
This bird was shot against a the background of a bright red car that pulled in.
And last shot for this post.
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