Winter Light

Photography is all about using light to show your subject at it best. For me, this is about using natural light as I don't use flash. Many years ago I tried some flash photography trying to capture small birds in flight and was so disturbed at the response of the birds that have not used it since. I don't have any problem with the use of fill flash during daylight for those that want to use it. However,  Aacurrent trend I find particularly worrying at the moment is photographing owls at night with multiple flash set ups at baited posts. With their highly sensitive night vision, this must be impacting on the birds with temporary blindness and their long term hunting success. Now I know there are all kinds or arguments surrounding this concerning the negative effects which I not going to enter into. All i can say is this practice seems wrong and it bothers me greatly.

For those photographers who just use natural light, winter is a very special time of year. The low elevation of the sun produces beautiful soft warm light to work  through large parts of the day. Unfortunately, living in cloudy north west England,  such days can be few and far between and so you have to make the most of them when they do occasionally arise. On occasions it can feel like an eternity of cloud between sunny moments. The other benefit of course is that it easy to get out at first light without the need to set your alarm to ridiculous o'clock, so you can have a nice relaxed start to the day and still be at your chosen site at sunrise to catch the first important rays. Even at this time of year, both ends of the day tend to produces the most evocative images.

The collection of images below are from my recent winter wanderings and in no particular order.

I have spent a little time down by the huge area of local salt marshes hoping to capture some short-eared owls. As with most photography of hunting owls it is a game of luck and whether they fly close to your chosen position. Given the size of the marsh, success rate can be fairly low and it requires many hours effort to be rewarded with only a few images. Given the time requirements, the moments when the sun is out and the owls are close occur even more infrequently.

When the sun does shine at this site in the afternoons it tends to be at a tricky angle and ranges from side lit through to full backlit.

Sat waiting by the marsh for long periods you do see plenty of other birds, particularly raptors such as hen harrier and marsh harrier although often at too far a distance for photography. Occasionally one does come closer. This is a silhouette of a marsh harrier hovering over the reeds at last light.

While waiting by the marsh, there are usually some small birds around the edge to pass the time such as Stonechat.

Another place I find myself waiting around quite a bit during the winter is one of the local marine lakes. This gets some interesting birds on it and can be good for photography as it allows in places for you to get right down at that water level perspective. However, with it covering an area of around 60 acres and having high numbers of visitors, catching the birds close to the edge requires paitence. I usually visit at first light when the number of people and dogwalkers around is low.

A Cormorant surfacing at first light.

There are usually several Red-breasted Merganser on the lake each winter.

This winter they were joined by two female Goosander.

One benefit of the number of visitors is that the wading birds are relatively accustomed to people which provides some photo opportunities while waiting. In this case a Redshank in flight.

One difference this winter is that there have been very high numbers of Brent Geese overwintering on Hilbre Island off the north west corner of the Wirral peninsula. Usually they stay on the island but some have been venturing over to the mainland this year which gave a couple of opportunities to put these long distance travellers in front of the lens for the first time.

Moving closer to home. At the end of the street where I live is the River Mersey, which gets reasonable numbers of waders on the intertidal area. For some unknown reason, I rarely venture down there with a camera. To get it at its best all the right conditions need to coincide with late afternoon sun and the right state of tide i.e as the tide is coming up to high water or ebbing away leaving a narrow strip of shore for the birds. As I work from home now, a couple of weeks back the weather and tides came together for a quick mid-afternoon break from the computer for an hour. It was an enjoyable brief session photographing a foraging Curlew and some Oystercatcher picking around the rocks for crabs and mussels.

Maybe I should try and visit the end of my street more often! It is all too easy to overlook what is on your 'doorstep'. Unfortunately it does not look like the sun will put in an appearance this weekend, such is the way of winter weather, but there is more promise in the forecast for next week for maybe a quick work break session. Fingers crossed for some more of that glorious winter light to come before spring is upon us.

Immersed in Iceland: Day 9 - Where's the Buntings?

An early alarm call found me out of the bed and minutes later creeping past a slumbering Steve at the far end of our long room in the hotel roof. I am well practice in this art of a quiet exit from early morning departures at home , the only difference was the loud spring loaded clunk of hotel door lock as I tried to ease it shut.

Once outside it was not long before I had a curious Redpoll in front of me once more and this time used the backdrop of the dark ash hillside behind as a backdrop.

I wandered around for a while in the birch scrub and down to a rocky beach but it was generally quiet except for the occasional Snipe whizzing around and Ringed Plover. I made my way back up from the beach along a wide but dry river bed of grey pebbles. You could imagine the torrent rushing over the stone bed after a heavy downpour as the water flowed down off the ash hills behind. I had not gone far when an Oystercatcher sprang forth into the air from behind a gravel ridge and started circling me with an alarm call.

I had seen this behaviour before and knew this meant there was a nest nearby but where was it in the expanse of pebbles? I very slowly walked away keeping a close eye on the ground and glad I did as I nearly stepped on the cryptic nest containing three eggs, leaving the birds to settle back down having seen off the intruder. The only other bird I photographed during my early morning start was a passing Greylag Goose that was nicely lit in the early low sun. Time for some breakfast.

After breakfast we checked out the hotel and continued our journey south and west towards the Reykjavik area. We decided to head for  Heiðmörk which is the place we had skillfully managed to fail to navigate to earlier in the week. This is supposed to be a good area to see Ptarmigan.
As we entered the area we decided to stop in the parking area by the channel that connects the Elliðavatn and Helluvatn lakes as there seemed to be quite a few birds in this area.

By now the sun was shining and haze was starting to develop. We needed some close subjects to photograph and were obliged by a few Red-necked Phalaropes and a very confiding Golden Plover which I probably spend too long photographing rather than looking around to see what other birds could be found. This was confirmed as we left as a Great Northern Diver came gliding across the relatively small Helluvatn and was literally just round the corner out of sight all the time.

After a quick brew we decided to take a tour around the tracks of Heiðmörk to see what birds could be found. There are numerous picnic sites dotted over this large expanse of coniferous forest and upland larva areas and as we pulled up to what seemed a very remote one, we spotted a male Ptarmigan on some short grass underneath a swing in a play area. This looked like a good opportunity but as we drew closer in the car, two young children who didn't seem to be with anyone, stepped out of the forest and made straight towards the swing resulting in a rapidly departing white bird. One of those moments that obviously was just not meant to be. On our slow drive around the tracks, bird life was surprisingly absent and our fairly long circuit only produced one Ptarmigan.

It was time to try elsewhere and we headed towards Keflavik and found ourselves back by the lake which first stumbled upon when we arrived. The heat haze was in full force by now and trying to get sharp images through the wobbly air was proving a challenge. We stayed there a while and this produced some bathing Ringed Plover photographs and I went to check the beach where the was a stone causeway with a some Eider.

Time to hit Google on the phone to decide where to head to next and it was indicate there was a small sea bird colony at Keflavik which we went to check but only found some low empty cliffs. What was interesting though was how much more advanced the Lupins were down in this warmer south-west corner with the first starting to come in to flower. In the north they had only just started poking their first leaves up through the soil.

Coming away from there we did find a pair of Golden Plover which we stopped to photograph for a while in the softening light.

Following the coast road along we ended up at the northern end of the mosy south-western peninsula in Iceland at Garðskagi Lighthouse. Stepping out of the 'campervan' we found a large board information with photographs showing the species that could be found. It stated something like 'Snow bunting are a common breeding species along the seawall' This raised our expectations as Snow Bunting, despite being a relatively common bird in Iceland,  had completely eluded us for nine days except for a possible sighting of one flying across the road several days earlier. Well we separated and walked and walked up and down that sea wall and the beach for ages and over a long distance trying to fine any signs of Snow Buntings but there were none to be found. Not even the chirp of a bunting was heard in our searching.

With nothing else there to photograph we decided to move in as it was starting to get late and we still had to find some accommodation for the night. The last bird of the day was a lone Whimbrel feeding along a grass verge on the edge of a car park.

Driving back into Keflavik we booked into the Hotel Keilir for the last two nights. A nice tidy twin room with a great view. After sorting out the days photographs and kit, we popped over the road to a Chinese Restaurant. We were quite late arriving given the standard 9pm kitchen closing time and it was a strange experience as they started packing up the place as we ate. Chairs went up on the surrounding tables and the floor mopped around us. Following my early start I was more than ready for bed by the point and was asleep within minutes of hitting the pillow. Tomorrow I would be waking to the final day of our trip.