Praise the light! A nature photographer’s prayer

Photography: n. from the Greek, writing with light. I majored in the classics in college, and I’m familiar with the roots of many common words in the English language.

Anyone who is halfway serious about photography knows that good light makes for good photos. Although it wasn’t quite the “golden hour” before sunset when I stopped at the Reed Bryan Farm early this evening, the light was warm and promising for photos.

I was thinking about that as I walked the trails, lamenting that few birds were out in the 5 o’clock hour. About two dozen barn swallows were swarming overhead, doing touch-and-go’s from the antenna strands on the last remaining pole in the Pole Farm complex. Half as many purple martins gathered in nearby trees, but none of those birds are particularly photogenic, especially when high above me.

I did have one decent subject to shoot. Eureka! A willow flycatcher was perched regally atop a slender branch amid the grasses off the main trail. Until I brought the images up on screen at home, I didn’t realize how magnificent the bird looked in the early evening light.

A willow flycatcher sits in profile on a slender branch with a lush green background.
The top photo cropped.

Because the light was ideal, the green grasses behind the bird formed a lush background, enhancing the photo.

The bird emitted no buzzy call to alert me to its presence, and I’m glad I was able to spot it. Even better, I captured a portrait that I’m happy to share with my readers, to whom I wish good lighting and good writing. 🦅

A rare evening outing, and I see Elvis

Traffic on my drive home from work was remarkably light today, so I grabbed my camera and went to the Pole Farm for a pre-dinner stroll. Under a cloudy sky, few birds were flying, and I was mainly birding by ear.

Making a clockwise loop, I was well down the paved Lawrence-Hopewell Trail when I spotted a black-and-white form atop a green stalk off to my left. A quick check through the binoculars revealed an Eastern kingbird and, for once, it didn’t fly off.

For whatever reason, I always associate kingbirds with the king, Elvis Presley, and I was happy to photograph this bird, even while knowing it would be tough to pull out detail from his black feathers in less-than-ideal light.

I was surprised that even as I moved forward to seek new angles, the bird didn’t seem to notice me and stayed put. Even a passing jogger didn’t spook it. After taking several shots, I moved on.

White-tailed deer stares me down from the grasses.

I spotted a white-tailed deer looking directly at me, and then another kingbird (or at least I assumed so) appeared perched atop a tree. It was trickier to shoot than the first kingbird, and it would be my last photo opportunity on the 45-minute route.

Had I not taken a single photo, the walk would have been worth the fresh air. Encountering a couple of Flying Elvi made the trip even better. 🦅

Braving shoe-sucking mud for photos

The Dyson Tract along the Delaware and Raritan Canal has been drawing lots of birders to check out the little blue herons that have taken up residence for the last week or so. I’d stopped by a few days ago and went back Sunday afternoon.

At this time of year, the trees are thick with leaves, making it harder to see into the swamp. There are only a couple of places affording a clear vantage point, and my first decent views came from a break in the trees along the gravel trail that runs perpendicular to the canal towpath. I spotted a great egret and what I believed were two of the little blues from there, but they were distant.

I had the foresight to bring my monopod to make for steadier shots, and it also served as walking stick. I walked back toward the towpath and spotted some trampled grass leading down to the edge of the swamp. I gave it a try, steadying myself with the monopod and keeping alert for ticks. I reached the edge of the swamp, with spongy black soil below my feet.

The view was worth the mud. I startled a green heron, which flew off one log onto another maybe 50 feet from me. That’s when I made my best shot of the day, the one topping this post.

VIew into swamp, with dead trees poking out of the water, a great egret strutting at the right and two little blue herons farther back on the left.
View from the edge of the swamp, with a great egret at right and two little blue herons farther back at left.

I stayed at the edge of the swamp for about 10 minutes, shooting a pair of egrets relatively near and a couple of the little blue herons farther away. I found my monopod sinking into the mud and decided it was time to head back to firmer ground. As I turned, my left hiking shoe stuck in the muck and nearly came off before I snugged it back on my heel.

Two little blue herons point their beaks while they explore between dead trees in the swamps. Parts of their bodies are in shadow.
Two young little blue herons poke around in the swamp. Their shadows have a blue tinge, foreshadowing their adult coloring.

I decided to take another look from my initial vantage point, and I was rewarded with narrow but good looks at a couple of little blues.

As I was training my camera on the little blues, I was startled when a great blue heron flew in from the left. I didn’t get a clear shot of the big bird landing, but I got a shot showing it standing behind one of the little blue herons. It’s a good indicator of the relative size of the two species.

A great blue heron treads in the swamp water at rear while a little blue heron stands on a fallen log in foreground.
Great blue heron at back, little blue heron in front.

Other birders have reported seeing six little blue herons at the Dyson Tract. I recorded four on e-Bird. It’s possible I got a glimpse of a fifth. I couldn’t see the sixth, which may have flown off or was roosting in a tree.

Regardless, it was a treat to see so many elegant birds in one location and to have survived the mud with both shoes and no ticks attached. 🦅

Sandpipers and killdeers aplenty in Hamilton

After the excitement of seeing a pair of rare sedge wrens, for a change of pace I drove to Veterans Park in Hamilton. The park has a big lake that attracts eagles and waterfowl, and I was eager to spot a few to broaden my species count for the young month.

I walked across the dike, spotting a couple of dozen Canada geese and mallards swimming in the lake plus a few purple martins circling overhead. My objective was to reach the woods along the lake’s edge, where a fellow birder told me I had just missed seeing a bald eagle.

I turned my eyes to the mud bars just off shore and spotted plenty of birds strutting. First to reveal themselves were killdeer, and I was curious to see what other birds were nearby.

A killdeer stands on a log on a mud flat, with two smaller birds in foreground.
A killdeer makes its way along the mud, with a couple of smaller birds in foreground.

I wasn’t sure which were which, but a quick glance at the screen on my camera revealed least and solitary sandpipers (one of the latter tops this post). I had not seen those birds in many months and I was glad to see them again.

As for the eagle, I reckon I’ll spot one again soon. 🦅

Sedge wrens enliven birding in Princeton

It’s always fun when a rare visitor comes to town, and the birding buzz around Princeton the last few days has been about a pair of sedge wrens who have come calling at the Mountain Lakes Preserve.

Reports on the wrens had been coming in from e-Bird, and this morning I decided to take my chances spotting them. Although I’d visited the preserve for a unicycle ride (yes, unicycle!) when I first got to town, I had not been back and had never gone birding there.

From the parking lot, I walked up a trail hoping to get to the Seward Johnson boardwalk. I had a trail map but wasn’t sure I was heading in the right direction. At a trail intersection, a woman walking her dog pointed me properly.

Once on the boardwalk, I saw three birders looking out on the field to the right. They had just gotten good views of both sedge wrens and gave me a few pointers on spotting them. A fourth birder tipped me to where one of them was, and I saw it fly before it plunged into the grasses.

After walking back and forth for a while, I heard the rat-a-tat call of the other wren. Soon, another birder arrived, and she spotted it a few minutes later, tucked into a green-leafed plant. But the bird was barely visible and made a couple of sorties to our right. Eventually it flew back to our left and landed atop another plant, partially obscured.

There was so much green in our field of view that our cameras had difficulty focusing. I took several shots, some of them “blind,” then repositioned myself, hoping for a better angle.

That angle brought me the shot topping this post. Neither it nor the one below (taken a few minutes earlier) is tack sharp, but they leave no doubt of the bird’s identity.

Sedge wren in profile, perched in a field of green and brown grasses.
We got our first good look at the sedge wren when it was about 20 yards off the boardwalk.

I had logged a sedge wren a couple of years ago at the Pole Farm, when I got a fleeting, distant glance at one while in a scrum of birders. This time, I could see the bird — most of it, anyway — through my binoculars. I’m pleased to have gotten a couple of fair photos, too.

I headed home about 8:45 a.m., happy that I’d made a good find. I’d venture out once more into the beautiful day — sunny with a high around 75 — and I’ll report on that outing later. 🦅

When birds turn their backs to you

Grateful for an overnight temperature drop from the 90s into the mid-60s, I headed to the Pole Farm this morning. The sky was overcast, with little sun to coax the birds out into the open.

I had walked nearly two miles without even lifting my camera up to shoot when I heard the buzzy call of willow flycatcher. There it was — maybe 20 yards away atop a stalk of grass, but I had no clear shot. A moment later it flew farther back off the trail.

I repositioned my stance, training my lens through a tunnel of tall grasses to focus on the bird. It had its back to me, affording me a view of its dark green feathers and wingbars. I shot about a dozen frames before it flew off, and none of them showed any bit of its head beyond the back side of it.

That was the only bird I focused on today — all the others were calling from deep in the grasses and back in the woods, clearly heard but otherwise undetectable. I did get a fair look at an Eastern kingbird flying overhead, but that was using my binoculars.

While the photo gods were not kind today, I’m hoping for better luck tomorrow, when Apollo’s chariot is expected emerge from the clouds. 🦅

At last, an egret

For several weeks, I’d been puzzled that I had yet to log a sighting of an egret in 2025. Great egrets usually show up in spring in these parts, but here we are halfway through summer and I’d yet to see one.

I’d been seeing reports of great egrets and a little blue heron at the Dyson Tract area along the Delaware and Raritan canal, and I left work an hour early today to take my chances at spotting them.

Shortly after arriving, I found the little blue heron in the back end of the swamp. A short while later, I spotted an egret flying and landing in the pond on the other side of the trail that splits the two sides of the park.

I’ve shared two egret photos, and I’m holding off on posting the photo of what I’m reasonably certain is the little blue heron until I get confirmation.

UPDATE: I got the confirmation. Here’s the little blue!

Little blue heron strutting through the swamp.
Little blue heron searching for a snack in the swamp.

With the temperature in the upper 90s, I didn’t prolong my walk today. The weather is supposed to cool tomorrow, and I’m hoping to get out for a morning visit. 🦅

A great egret, beak open, stands on a log in a pond.
Great egret with its beak open.

Gnatcatchers catch my eye

On a relatively quiet morning at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, I approached a trail intersection near the old AT&T Building One site and spotted movement about halfway up some tall trees. Birds, undoubtedly, but what were they?

As one flew from one branch to another, I spotted its white breast and gray wings and head. My first thought was “chickadee,” but I got only a glimpse. There didn’t seem to be any black on the bird.

One of the gnatcatchers, in a moment without movement.

It wasn’t alone. I spotted three others like it flitting about that section of trees but couldn’t get a clear shot at any of them through my binoculars. I waited for at least five minutes, figuring I should move on. But an unusual pang of patience kept me stationary, camera at the ready, hoping one of the birds would come a little closer.

One hopped onto a clear branch, and finally I was able to focus.

What I was seeing were blue-gray gnatcatchers. They were moving so quickly that I don’t know whether I got photos of more than one bird. On the computer screen at home, I found several shots of tree branches sans oiseaux, but there were half a dozen frames with a bird in focus. I’ve included my two favorites here, and I’m pleased to present them to you. 🦅

Molting makes for some odd-looking birds

For many birds, mid- to late-summer is molting season. As a result, you may see some odd-looking ones like the “bald” male Northern cardinal we’ve been seeing in our yard. His head is black; the red feathers have fallen off.

While looking out to the yard this afternoon, I was surprised to see a hairy red-bellied woodpecker that was, in a word, weird. I don’t know if it was a male or a female, but its head was mostly white, giving it a spectral aspect. Typically there’s black on top, with a red cap on the males.

I’ve seen a few house sparrows with feathers askew and a male house finch with a red feather sticking straight up from its back. Those feathers will soon fall away, making room for new ones that will carry the birds into fall.

Some of the looks are amusing. Others, like the bald cardinal, are jarring. No worries, though — it’s a natural cycle that repeats itself year after year among our (mostly) feathered friends. 🦅

No camera for birds? No problem – switch to wildflowers!

A couple of times a year, I forget to stick the SD card back into my camera and discover the problem only when I reach the Pole Farm parking lot. It happened again today, and I was even more irritated to discover my backup card wasn’t in the car.

Rather than head back home, I decided to hit the trail with just binoculars and my iPhone. Without the heavy camera and lens, I found myself walking much more freely and quickly, a mild consolation for not having my trusty Canon on my shoulder.

In such situations, I worry that some rare bird or birds — a flock of extinct passenger pigeons come back to life, perhaps — will appear directly overhead or in front of me, and I’ll miss what would have been an Audubon magazine cover shot.

That didn’t happen this morning. I saw few birds that would have been in range to shoot with my long Sigma zoom lens. With few birds about, I turned my attention to the wildflowers poking up out of the grasses on each side of the trail.

They made for a cornucopia of color: pink wild bergamot, black-eyed Susans, yellow false sunflowers and white wild carrot. I especially liked the vivid red Allegany blackberries on the edge of the Lawrence Hopewell Trail. That photo tops this post, and the one ripe berry is no longer on the bramble branch. I ate that one! 🦅

Pink bergamot wildflowers cluster in amid the green grasses in a meadow.
Wild bergamot blooms brighten the landscape off the Pole Farm central trail.
Black-eyed Susans stand out amid the green grasses.
Black-eyed Susans mingle with the grasses.
Yellow false sunflower blossoms above green leaves. Two orange and black insects crawl around the center of the blossom on one of the blooms.
False sunflowers, with a few bugs.