Waterfowl Heaven

by Jim and Shirley White

Sullen skies NW of Lincoln this morning. Not a bird to be seen over the flooded rice fields. Off in the distance we saw a white flash in the sky. The white flash was huge and blinked on and off at slightly different places, Snow Geese I guessed? Or were they? And then another white flash, more to the north and closer to the ground. Maybe shore birds? We put the Jeep in high gear and ran down Brewer Rd. to the north. Thousands of Snow Geese to the east down Kempton Rd.! But there was something funny about the flooded plowed field straight ahead. I stopped and glassed the field. Those little brown dots were Dunlins by the thousands! As we watched the field, a milliom more flew in from somewhere and landed at the end of the birds we were watching. Hard to photograph these high speed bullets but we have to try. The birds sit so still I can not believe they are really birds. In a flash they fly and swirl and loop around the field all in absolute synchronization and when their bellies are toward us they flash white. What a sight! How do they keep from hitting each other at such speed?

 Later we go north down Kempton and there are Snow Geese by the tens of thousands! We work on the Swans. Our access to a 600 ac. rice ranch on this road provides the answer. After the shoot it is breakfast at Kathy's in Lincoln. Not a bad way to spend a morning. Can't wait to get back.

Wild in the Park

by Jim&Shirley White

It was 5 AM when I looked out our bedroom window. The cloud deck looked low, it was really grungy. Not raining yet, but the sky promised it would not be long. I really felt like doing our early morning walk. The temp gauge outside said 39f. So I made the coffee and did my morning chores.
And then I got the idea! If it looked that bad to everyone else, maybe no one but Shirley and I would show up at the park this early morning. We have been a little concerned about safety wandering around the early morning in the park with expensive camera gear, a known gang headquartered nearby and the homeless person we meet upon occasion. With this kind of weather will they will stay under cover too? Let's go to the park and photograph wildlife! Shirley thought it was a dumb idea.

We started walking toward to lake at about 20 minutes before sunrise.What sunrise? The overcast was grim. But how thick were the clouds? We started out using our little fold out canvas stools and set up near the big island. We knew there were 4 river otters in the lake but as dark as they are how to capture the image in this poor light. Shirley let out a gasp and whispered " at your feet"! All I remember is little brown heads, long whiskers and big brown eyes starring right at me. Too close, camera won't focus. They were a wild and rowdy bunch. They played together constantly. They were all over the pond. Our only hope was to get them on the island. We did but most of the shots were throwaways.

I checked my LCD screen and I could not believe the color. A slight improvement in the light.
First the Golden Eyes swam past us and then the Buffleheads. These diving ducks from the far north are our notice that the northern birds have really made it back!
Only one person approached us, wanting to know where he could find our pictures. Seemed like a nice guy, a banker or perhaps a local Judge? The bad guys just don't get out of bed very early I guess.

 

 

 

 

THE BIRDS ARE BACK

by Jim and Shirley White

The large brown bird dropped out of the sky like a bombshell, exploding in a sea of Mud Hens (American Coots) like a grenade going off. The Rough-legged hawk nailed one of the Mud Hens on some dead tules about 50 feet from our road, in the Colusa National Wildlife

Refuge, near Colusa. Ca. A bite to the back of the head of the Mud Hen and the flopping bird was soon dead. Shirley and I stopped on the edge of the road and started firing the Nikon's in high-speed mode. Welcome back to some of the best wildlife photo shooting in the west.

A few minutes after, an SUV with a sun-roof pulled up in front of us, out of the roof popped a girl with a red parka on and the hawk flushed carrying part of the Mud Hen in his claws, and our hawk shoot for this day was over.

We had had a good shooting day. Earlier while chatting with the refuge manager, he had pointed out an area where some Sandhill Cranes had landed in a shallow pond. The Cranes had flown off before we could get there but we were rewarded by a dozen Curlews playing grab-ass and we were able to shoot some action shots of this un-common northern bird.

Yep....the game is on! Another great season of chasing waterfowl up and down the Sacramento Valley, always looking for the unusual but always interesting waterfowl from the far north.

OF COWBOYS,SHEEP DOGS,BIG TROUT & ICE CREAM

BY JIM & SHIRLEY WHITE

The soil at the Owens Valley cow camp was powder a foot deep. At every step the dust swirled up and covered our cameras. I drive 400 miles every year to photograph this camp. Each year it is different. This year it was murder. I really wanted to go sit on the couch along-side the cabin and have Shirley take my picture, but the nearby Cowboys vaccinating cows were watching us. I think one of them was packing heat! I don't want any shootout in this heat today.

The nearby Hot Springs creek was the only thing that looked cool today. Not enough snow on the mountains for sure.

We are standing on the handicapped fishing platform at Convict Lake shooting the early morning light on the lake and I am grousing about what a lousy place to build the platform with all the shallow water below when a 24 inch Rainbow Trout weighing at least 10 lbs.cruses by. My casting arm begins to twitch and I know now I know nothing about fish!

We photograph sheep herders, their dogs and sheep, and dream about the old days of lamb stew and red wine in the Basque sheep camps we have known. We love their dogs, and one white Pyrenees remembers Shirley from some years ago. They were in the Bode Hills right where we always find them. The Herder waves but does not come up to see us this time. He knows we need him in our shot too.

Monitor Pass was as beautiful as we have ever seen it! I use the glasses to view White Cliff Peak way to the South, just above Connel's Cow camp of old. Our memories of horse adventures in the Fish Valley of the Silverking are as strong as ever. My horse Lady died there, her skull nailed to the wall of the Soda Springs Ranger Station. Rest in peace my lady.

Shirley let out a slight sigh as the girl scooped a very small scoop of Vanilla ice cream, but then worked it into a huge ball that hardly fit on the sugar cone. The Markleeville ice cream shop closes on Oct. 24th this year. Next trip I guess we will just have to hit the old Cutthroat Saloon for a shot or two, and remember Shrimp Ebright, the old horse packer who always wanted me to stay longer. But my family and kids were waiting, and trailering horses at night over Carson Pass, well only one for that road that was for sure.

  

Crane Addiction

by Jim and Shirley White

 

 A soft rain was hitting our bedroom window as I drug my body out of bed. It was 5:00 AM and pitch black outside. I nudged my wife Shirley and said "good morning, time to go chase some cranes". "My God Jim, it is not even light outside!" "I know, I said but it will be light by the time we get there" " "Your sick", she said, "you need to get another hobby!". Yep, I know, it is some kind of addiction that makes us chase Sandhill Cranes, the way we do. The report we had was the first Cranes this year had arrived at the Consumnes Wildlife Area, with Desmond road the best spot to see them. We were there at first light, and there were no Cranes. No Cranes, few ducks, nothing but lots of Blackbirds. What to do? Lets try Woodbridge road. Maybe we will see some Otters or something? At the public viewing area on Woodbridge road there was nothing. I parked the car, grabbed the Nikon with the 150-600mm lens, and walked to the bench and sat down. A few cars drove in looked around and left. Nothing. And then I saw something move, 150 yards away, and behind some thistle plants. It was a Sandhill Crane! And then I saw 5 more, and then 10 more off in the distance. To our amazement two cranes walked out of some cover less than 100 yards away. And then to our amazement, one began to throw a stick up high into the air and leap and try and catch it before it hit the ground.

And then the Cranes began their dance! They leaped up high and were playfully poking with their bills at each other. The light was poor, but who cares? They were playing and doing their dance for us!

How could these birds know how hard we tried to see them perform? It was like they were performing just for us. The dancing and throwing the stick lasted for maybe 3 or 4 minutes and then they wandered on behind some growth where they could not be photographed. It was over.

By 10:00 A.M. we were at Wimpy Marina and were ordering steak and eggs and biscuits and gravy.
Getting up this early does work up an appetite.As we waited for our order, Shirley remarked " I really love those Cranes!" When can we go again?

 

Wild Along Our Coast

by Jim and Shirley White

The shrill high scream sounded like the higher notes of a pipe organ in distress! It was a bull Tule elk in the Pt. Reyes National Seashore telling all that could hear,"this is my territory". It was thrilling to hear,even more thrilling to see him run-off the two huge bulls that tried to move in on his harem. We watched our screamer run around in circles, rounding up all the young does into a remarkably tight band. He was the proud owner of a really nice herd of females, that is if he can just hang on to them.

I know of no other place in California better to break in my new wildlife lens, a 150-600mm Tamron zoom, for my Nikon bodies. It was last Wednesday, all the Motel'ers were still in bed, no traffic at all on the Pierce Point road so we had it all to our self. Unfortunately, a dull grey fog hung over everything. Not the best light, but wildlife was every where. In three days we saw Coyotes, hawks,Shore birds,lots of Elk, deer, Cottontail rabbits and quite a few "dicky birds" to photograph. Camped at the Olema campground, we had lots of homemade stew, Truckee sourdough, and some good red wine. God does bless the poor, sometimes wicked, and always enthused wildlife photographers.

       

Death on the highway

by Jim and Shirley White

Driving at 65 mph on I80 east near Cisco Grove, I barely saw the roadkill out of the corner of my eye. I saw a small mass of an animal with long dark brown fur, long orange or yellow guard hairs across it's shoulders and down it's back. Not much different than the Wolverine I have seen. Seconds before I had been looking to the north at the Black Buttes and thinking about Byers Lake, where someone had photographed our local Sage Hen creek Wolverine crossing the ice a few springs ago. I shouted to Shirley, "they have killed our Wolverine". Not sure if it was a Wolverine or maybe a small cub bear, I had to go back and check. I pulled in off the road near the animal and guessed it was a cub, California Black bear. A closer exam proved that it was a bear cub.

Very fat, heavy, maybe 100 lbs, I drug it off the highway, more out of respect for the bear, than worry about the motorist. I could almost guess the history of it's short life. Back in the 1970's two DFG  bear biologist, Larry and Dick had helicoptered into the Granite Creek drainage south of here, following the radio signals from a female bear that had denned under a big log, with 10 feet of snow on top, right along Granite Creek. While digging thru the snow to change the batteries in her radio, the irate female had burst thru the snow just behind them and scared them so bad they almost did not jab her with the syringe with the drugs. After she went to sleep, an inspection of the den produced two small cubs with their eyes closed, about the size of a squirrel. Following the mother with her cubs from our airplane the next summer, we watched them go north, cross the freeway, and go all the way to Grouse Ridge and the Byers lake drainage. The freeway was new then, the deer herd fairly large, and records kept by Cal-Trans at Kingvale recorded about one thousand deer killed on the new I 80 each year. In late August that year, how the mother bear and her cubs made it back across the freeway and back down into the North Fork of the American river had to be just luck. The years have some how come and gone and also several generations of our mother bear. But in my mind, my little friend killed on I 80 yesterday, "I must have known your Great Grandmother." Get out of our way, or die. Are we in too much of a hurry to care any longer?