Around the island: great blue heron nest

Last Thursday morning we were waiting for the ferry “Salish” to finish offloading cars/passengers at Keystone Landing in Coupeville. An extremely foggy morning. We were going to walk aboard, arrive in Port Townsend 40 minutes later, and just walk around town for a few hours.

I’d heard there was a great blue heron nest on one of the pilings next to the ferry, but that the chicks were going to fledge “any day now.” And yes, as I stood at the landing, there were the pilings, there were the four chicks. The ferry (the green bit in the upper right) was offloading at this point.

Let me blow up this photo somewhat so you can see the birds a bit closer.

Apparently, according to a knowledgable woman, the adults fly off when the ferry arrives, and return with food once the coast is clear — literally, when the coast is clear.

And there they are, all four chicks, hunkered together. One markedly larger than the others. (You know it’s a bad photo when you have to put an arrow pointing to the subject!)

Once aboard, I took the stairs up to the top deck, only to find I couldn’t get quite as close as I wished, but it was still pretty amazing to see.

One of the chicks was having a very bad hair day. I could relate.

The adult heron had the ferry schedule memorized. As soon as the boat began departing the landing, she swooped in, neck swollen with tasty fish, and prepared to feed the chicks. The ferry departs surprisingly quickly, and seconds later the birds were well beyond my lens.

Terrific start to a very good morning in the Pacific Northwest.

Images copyright ©Carol Leigh 2019

Blue great blue herons

 Great blue heron rookeries, where they build their nests and raise their chicks, are loud, noisy, crowded places. Five-foot-tall birds with five- and 6-foot wingspans all vying for space.

Which may account for why we often see them alone, gazing outward, (or inward), standing quietly in the shallows, or atop a piling, motionless.

Solitary, quiet, and momentarily free from all responsibility.

©Carol Leigh
All text, photographs, and other media are ©Copyright Carol Leigh (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from Carol Leigh.

From color to black and white (parts 6 and 7 of 7)

There's a challenge going around in my corner of Facebook at the moment where someone challenges someone else to create one black and white image a day and to post it on Facebook. The "rules" are "no people and no explanation." Well, here's the explanation.

I took this picture of an agave stalk in 2006 and turned it into this weird color. Today, I'm not sure why! But I wondered how it would look if I converted this blue horror into black and white.

I like the black and white version much better, but going back to the blue version, I noticed how the background was out of focus, but there was a shadow back there that echoed the same angle as the (and I don't know the scientific word for it) thing sticking out on the right.

The lights and darks in the background are interesting, add depth and interest and mystery, yet aren't overly obtrusive.

And then there was the great blue heron landing on a piling in South Carolina. The picture could have been sharper, but I loved the outstretched wing, the beak, the lower legs. They all angle sharply from right to left.

Intuitively I allowed more room in the left two thirds of the photo, room for the concept of horizontal movement to establish itself.

But what about the subtle lack of sharpness? I gave the image a soft, painterly look (lemons/lemonade) and also toned it a warm pinkish color. But would that translate to black and white?

I think it does. It's light, soft, and it keeps me looking. Is it better? I really don't know.

This black and white challenge was indeed challenging. The benefit of participating in it was it encouraged me to look at my (and everyone else's) pictures with new eyes and to experiment. Always a good thing.

©Carol Leigh
All text, photographs, and other media are ©Copyright Carol Leigh (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from Carol Leigh.

More from the missing memory card . . .

Turns out the missing memory card contains a few images that look pretty good. A great blue heron flies in and lands on a piling at twilight, and a couple of sailboats moored offshore add interest to a quiet scene.

Both taken in South Carolina a year and a half ago, with painterly effects added here and there.

©Carol Leigh
All text, photographs, and other media are ©Copyright Carol Leigh (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from Carol Leigh. 

Great blue heron

I was walking along the docks in Newport, Oregon and photographed this great blue heron all hunkered down, standing in the shallows. I liked the rather high-key, minimalistic look, and so I exaggerated the effect in the computer, creating a simple, almost Japanese feel to the scene. I like this soft, painterly look.

©Carol Leigh
 All text, photographs, and other media are ©Copyright Carol Leigh (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from Carol Leigh. Thank you!

Let's just see what happens . . .

At the end of last night's twilight shoot (see previous post), I was facing sort of southwest looking down at the beach when I noticed a great blue heron-ish bird in the surf. The bird was quite far away and out of reach of my lens, but I zoomed in as closely as I could, figuring let's just see what happens. During my 8-second exposure, my blue friend s-l-o-w-l-y made his or her way forward, step by step, as is their wont. I knew this shot wouldn't be good, but I wanted to see what the bird would look like during an 8-second period of its life. I blew up the heron part of my picture and added a bit of contrast to show you more clearly the final result. It's kind of cool, isn't it?

But why do something like this? Why bother when we know the result's going to be less than stellar? What this tells me is that if I ever find myself in a similar situation, where maybe I'm closer to a great blue heron, close enough to fill my frame, that an 8-second exposure (or longer) might just be cool enough and big enough to make an interesting, decent-size print. And it also, the morning after, makes me feel more connected to this bird. That last night wasn't just a one-night stand, rather a fond memory that will linger long . . . (But I digress!)

It was quite dark when I shot this from the bluff, but just light enough that I could see there might be a blue heron down on the beach. I'm there. The bird's there. My camera's set up. I'd be foolish not to try the shot.What would you have done?

©Carol Leigh