By BILL DANIELSON
For The Recorder
Today’s column has been carefully crafted to provoke the gods. Specifically targeted at Nikonus, I also hope to benefit from some sympathy from Iso, but that would be something of an extra bonus.
The gods are fickle, and I never truly know why they do what they do, but I shan’t speak any more of this now. I am, after all, hoping that they are listening.
After 18 years of nature photography, there are still some birds that have managed to elude me.
White-eyed vireos, peregrine falcons, canvasbacks, snow geese, many of the “rare” sparrows and many of the warblers are just a few representatives of this group. Other species are present in my collection, like the brown creeper and the blue-gray gnatcatcher, but are represented by only one or two photos of dubious quality. This is the story of two birds that fall into the later category.
Kinglets are birds that are about as small as we see here in the Northeast. The black-capped chickadee measures in at 5.25 inches, the American goldfinch at 5 inches, and the house wren at a diminutive 4.75 inches. The smallest, of course, is the ruby-throated hummingbird with a body length of 3.75 inches, but just above that miniscule size are the golden-crowned kinglet (4 inches) and the ruby-crowned kinglet (4.25 inches). These birds are so small that I would have to be within about 15 feet of them to get a decent photo.
So far, I have had much greater success with the ruby-crowned kinglet, even though the golden-crowned kinglet is the species that I see and hear more often. This may have something to do with the fact that the ruby-crowned kinglet is more migratory, appearing in a short burst in April and May and then again in September and October. Especially in the spring, when the weather is warmer and the birds are headed north, they are far more likely to pause and allow their picture to be taken.
The single decent photo of a ruby-crowned kinglet that I have is somewhat marred by the presence of unfortunate shadows. Nikonus was with me the day I took that photo, but Iso was apparently busy with something else. The timing was perfect and the details crisp and clean, but the light was not in my favor. Still, better to have a sharp photo than none at all.
The single photo of a golden-crowned kinglet in my collection is a product of Iso’s influence alone.
The lighting was perfect, but the timing was off. This photo is much like the “impressionist” photos that I shared with you last week. You get color and a sensuous feeling, but the detail is missing, and I can’t help but wish that the photo was better.
My chances of getting better photos of ruby-crowned kinglets are probably going to remain hampered by the brevity of their appearance in this area. I will need to be outside with a camera on that one spring day when the birds are present, somewhat mellow, and when there is sufficient cloud cover to soften the shadows and bring out the vibrant colors.
My chances of getting better photos of golden-crowned kinglets are much higher. These birds live in our area throughout the year. I can find them in almost any season, but the big obstacle that remains is the fact that they are small, fidgety birds that like dense stands of conifers (pines, spruces, etc.). In such habitats, lighting will remain an issue no matter when I see the birds.
The golden-crowned kinglet builds its nest next to the trunk of a conifer, where hangs from small branches. The nest is made of moss, lichen, spider webs and plant down. I have seen photos of these nests, and I can tell you with some measure of confidence that I will not be finding one soon. Built of materials gleaned from the surrounding habitat, they are almost invisible.
After rearing two broods of offspring, the birds prepare for the long months of winter. Golden-crowned kinglets specialize in finding spiders, spider eggs and insects that are hidden in the bark of coniferous trees. In the winter, they team up with chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, brown creepers and downy woodpeckers to form little mixed flocks that move through the forest in search of food. Their faint, lisping calls are dead giveaways, but they just don’t sit still. It’s maddening!
Now, between you and me, I am hoping that an even more maddening pattern in the life of a nature photographer is about be repeated. On more than one occasion, I have published a story with fairly decent photos, only to take much better ones just a week or two later. Thus, I hope that golden-crowned kinglets will be employed by the gods in an attempt to taunt me. If that is the case, then I will have achieved my overall goal, and I will immediately publish another story on them.
My fingers are crossed.
Bill Danielson has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service, and the Massachusetts State Parks. He has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 19 years. He teaches high school biology and physics. Visit: www.speakingofnature.com or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.