They are such dynamos! Hummingbirds’ constant playing of Tag has them jetting about seemingly nonstop. This is so much fun to watch and makes photographing them a super challenge. This year at Madera Canyon, the Z180-600 helped in that quest, providing flexibility as they got closer and further away from the camera. There are a couple of images I’ve desired for years that I still haven’t added to my library, but this one gives some hint of that. When Hummers change direction in flight on a pinhead, their tail goes up, their head goes down, and the wings come forward. It’s their position for a power dive. Every so often, they do a power climb as you see here. The big visual difference is the “determination” in their gesture. That’s what I’m after, and for another year, I didn’t come home with it. That’s OK, there is always tomorrow when I will be again, up, up and away!

It’s such a little element that makes such a huge impact, gesture! I started my career with the Vireo (that’s a long time ago), so I cherish any moment I have now to improve on what I did way back when. Technology has come so far since then, oh my! The blending of ambient light with flash is a snap, to the point I don’t even give it a second thought once set up for that shoot. The speed at which the Z 9 grabs focus clears up not only the viewfinder but my mind, so then it’s all about telling the story of a bird that makes a big impact on our world, though rarely thought of. Making you, the viewer, stop, look, and engage, truly comes down to the smallest element. Clearing the mind from the world and technology is essential so that you can focus on those small gestures.

The Delaware coast was a treasure trove of birds! My very first morning on site, a white van pulled up with a Fish & Wildlife emblem on the door. The person walked over and asked if we minded moving from where we were shooting as they wanted to trap shorebirds in that location for their research. We moved instantly as their research was much more important than our images. Well, that started a relationship that continues to this day!

Being a Master Bander and a biology geek, I couldn’t help myself and asked questions. It was a great conversation, fostering a new relationship. They were attaching “Flags” as well as service bands on the birds, you can see one of the green flags on this inbound Ruddy Turnstone. At the end of that session shooting, they were very kind and brought over to the group a Least Sandpiper and Short-billed Dowitcher they had trapped and did an in-the-field class on bird ID and banding. It was great!!!

One of the biologists was from Argentina, and we hit it off instantly. The next day, I gave him a list of the birds I’d photographed (the Flag numbers) with his Flags. That’s when the reality struck, they were targeting species that just a few years back were a dime a dozen. They weren’t going after the endangered Red Knot, they were targeting species that not too long ago no one paid attention to there were so many of them. That reality is still upsetting to me. What have we done to our world? It’s important science, and I was so pleased that for a week, I could play an insignificant part by recording The Flag.

It’s a spectacle that goes back nearly to when the dinosaurs roamed the planet. That’s how long Horseshoe Crabs have been coming to the sands of the northeast coast to lay their eggs in spring. A single female can lay up to 100,000 eggs. With an estimated 200-300 million crabs hitting the shores a century ago, well, that’s simply a lot of eggs, which is what attracts the shorebirds. Fueling up for their flight north to produce the next generation, they pile into the beaches, bays, and marshes to feast. This sadly, is long gone as I’ve found the past decade searching to witness this time-old event. We got a taste of the spectacular but just a small glimpse of the past two weeks ago in Delaware, seeing 50-60,000 shorebirds chase the microscopic eggs in their frenzy to feast. Dunlin is one of the species taking advantage of this abundant food source. When I saw one as the sun rose perched on a crab, it seemed to be the perfect story. The age old quest to ride the crab.

Their name comes from their loud call, which sounds like clapping. Their booming voice belies the fact that they hide perfectly in their marsh world. A tad smaller than a chicken, you can find them in tidal marshes on both coasts, with the west coast species in dire straits. This individual was photographed on the Delaware coast, where the healthy marsh system supports a healthy population. I’ve been fortunate to spend time with all the species over the decades and can pass along one tip if you want to photograph this very secretive rail. First, be prepared to have them do goofy things, no way to describe them, but once you see them, you’ll know what I’m talking about. The other is, time your visit to the marsh when high tide is going out around sunrise. They like to travel the tidal creeks to define their territories, which is when they expose themselves. They are a great bird, them secretive, goofy Clappers!

Old school, shooting up on a subject makes them look more masculine. In the critter world, more majestic. Making a cow look more masculine might seem a stretch, but most don’t distinguish a cow from a bull, they just see a Bison. An easy way to accomplish this is to shoot from a lower angle. Getting down physically with Bison is not a smart idea, so we look for opportunities when they are on a slight hillside where we can shoot up on them safely. The best is the rarest occurrence, and that’s when they ridgeline. It’s a word I made up to quickly inform others that a critter is on the top of a ridge with only sky behind them, they should point their lens to make the shot. See, ridgeliner is faster than trying to say all of that in the heat of shooting. In this case, the background was the growing thunderheads of the Black Hills of SD. The drama, the light, it was simply breath taking and if I arranged all the elements correctly, that drama has been said. Or what I like to simply say, ridgeliner.