Quiet Day at Ridgefield

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted on this blog.  Stuff’s happened so often and I’ve photographed so much (some of it even good) that I just haven’t had time to keep up.

I still don’t, but I thought I’d throw these out from this afternoon.

I’d decided to stop off at the Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge (the “River S Section”, for those familiar with it), and see what I could find.  The series below was shot in the first few hundred yards of the loop.  The rest of the trip was amazingly quiet… very few birds around.  From what I’ve been told, this must be the calm before the storm.  Things will likely be very different in a few weeks, but at that point, we won’t be allowed to get out of our cars.

It was good to take a last walk around the trail for the season, even if it didn’t yield any photographs.

I’m not a good bird-spotter, as has been proven again and again, but I think this is an American Bittern.  When I first saw the shape through the cattails, I thought it was a Kingfisher, as it was compressed so tightly on its branch.  I couldn’t see it as clearly as shown below.  The first view through the long lens told me that that guess was wrong, but I was even more puzzled.

Then, it stretched out and did a little dance for me:

And then did a more typical pose:

All shot with the A77, 70-300mm G @ 300mm.  f/8, ISO 200.  Shutter speeds varied.

Mudwalking

The tide was very low, the wind calm and the sky full of potential.

Time to pull on the “can’t drown ‘em” boots and go for a walk in the silt.

Step past the grass line and there’s no guarantee that you’ll get out again.  It’s not quicksand, it’s just incredibly fine, tenacious silt (and probably remnants of decades of things we’d rather not think about in detail).

I slipped and slogged for the equivalent of a couple of blocks before I realized that I was on a fool’s errand.  There was no way to make a loop out of this without becoming one with the muck, so I doubled back.

Neighbor Arno and another local character were at the base of the bank and were startled and amused by my sudden appearance.  It’s true, seeing human trudging from that direction is not something one witnesses every day.  Geese and ducks, sure, but people?  That was worth a chuckle.

We stopped and talked until the mosquitos spread word about the smorgasbord available, then swatted them away as we went our separate ways.

I Really Hate Dongo.org

There, I said it.

For years, that domain has been pointing people toward this blog for no reason at all. There’s no contextual connection between that domain and this one.

In all likelihood, Dongo visitors who land here are disappointed, perhaps even pissed off, and I don’t blame them… I probably would be, too, but it’s not something that I have any control over.

If you landed here in search of vacation properties in southern Europe or Africa and found something completely unexpected… GET ANGRY!  But not at me… go after the webmasters at Dongo.

I don’t even know what their game is, but it’s not mine.  If you got pointed here and liked what you see, you’re welcome to be here, comment, browse, whatever… I’m happy for the accident.

If you landed here from a Dongo link and didn’t like what you found, I encourage you to raise hell with them, because I think you’re in the majority.

I want people to visit this blog because they want to, not because some freakin’ robot pointed them here against anyone’s will but theirs.

With great respect for your choices,

Scott

Where’s the Gig?

I was looking for a different series of shots and ran across one that I made a few years ago.

It’s not posed.  I don’t know the guy.

But, I’m betting that he showed up less than an hour after this exposure at the appointed venue in Cannon Beach and was playing his heart out not long after that.

I’m Going to be Hurting So Badly!

My Coastie neighbor (I’ll call him Motorboy, since he couldn’t seem to resist anything that burned gas… two-stroke or four, mobile or stationary, it didn’t matter) moved away a couple of years ago. 

His burning need to play with his motors drove him over the bank (literally) to cut back the invaders at the tideline that sprouted up constantly.  In a different world, these shoots would be normal and natural, but now, they support and encourage two offshore invaders, English Ivy and Himalayan Blackberries.

I borrowed my parents’ small chainsaw and took some time off from work (to take advantage of low tide) and took over where Motorboy had left off.  The tangle of canes, vines, and previously-cut branches was incredible, and incredibly clingy… there were times when I thought I could dangle freely from my shirt, the blackberries had such a good grip on me.

Wow, that was WORK!  I had attempted to “go green” last year and use nothing but two handsaws and a machete to get the job done.  I nearly ruined my right shoulder in the process and couldn’t complete the task.  The chainsaw made things easier in some ways, harder in others.

Going back with the chainsaw, I spent at least 20 minutes just getting back to my starting point last year.  That mass grows really fast and with great determination.

I had less than three hours to get the job done, if it was to be a single-day effort.  I got “my” portion of the bank done, but the tide was fast encroaching, so I couldn’t work further west… yet.

Completely soaked with sweat, I retreated to higher ground before the tide had me swimming out.

The left image is from two weeks ago.  The right image is from this evening.

Testing My Nerve

This shot just reminds me of the one that I didn’t get.

It’s a Caspian Tern, and I had really pissed it off.  How, I’m not exactly sure, but I had.

The shot that I wish that I had was that of the bird approaching me in full dive-bomb mode, mouth so wide open that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see daylight in the middle of it all. It was shrieking its disapproval of my presence with a complete absence of reserve.

The shot above is of the bird on climb-out after the attack.

I got several of this one with the fish in its mouth.  I wondered if the blowhard was trying to tell me “this could be you, biped!” with the number of passes that it made.  Or maybe it just wanted to be sure that it got its picture taken with it’s prize.

Spring Cleaning

I’ve shed most of my packrat tendencies over the last few years, but most of what didn’t get purged in previous moves ended up in my home office in either boxes or bins, and I just got tired of looking at it.  It’s only been about five years.

The room is only about 12’ x 12’… how bad could it be?

With better planning and perhaps more coffee, I could have had it all done in a day or so, but it’s taken… well… longer.

Early on in the process I rediscovered my first “real” camera body.  I had always known where it was, but I hadn’t had reason to dig it out.  It was the last thing that I scooped out of a large storage bin.

I bought this little brick and its original lens (a 50mm f/1.4 that was stolen years ago) in 1977, and I continued to shoot with it until about 1999, when the shutter-cocking lever decided to refuse to move.

When the shutter jammed, it was cheaper and faster to just buy a used body to take its place than it was to repair it.  But I just couldn’t part with it.  So I’ve been lugging it along wherever I’ve landed for a good long time now.

The body that I replaced it with was stolen along with the original fast 50 and a couple of other lenses that I really liked a lot, but the 24mm f/2.8 shown here and the really cute little 250mm mirror telephoto weren’t in the bag at the time, so they follow me around, too, unused.

The camera shows its scars proudly.  The dent on the top of the pentaprism came from having a tripod leg slip off a rock. The whole rig landed on that point.  I was afraid that all of the interior parts would be knocked out of commission, but no… it just kept right on firing.

The camera and I got tromped on by volleyball players and running backs.  It fell with me through a false ceiling while on an assignment and was better off after than I was. It shot weddings, family gatherings, storms, flight deck operations, talent contests, Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker and my son.

I think I owe it a repair job!