Northern (Baltimore) Oriole (m)
NIkon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f4.0 VR

Good 'Ol Days?

May 25, 2016 in May 2016

Throughout the 1980’s and 90’s my own photography was an exercise in patience. This was the pre-digital era when every squeeze of the shutter was an opportunity taken and an opportunity lost. As the image count climbed towards 36, the potential to make one more photograph also diminished. The cost of film and processing was a deterrent to mashing the shutter, and choosing to take a five frame burst was a carefully measured decision. Shooting at the maximum five frames per second seemed to be like traveling at light speed, a journey that only took seven seconds to reach the destination. I can recall the calculus when the frame counter hit the number thirty; there are only six or seven shots left and if something really unique were to occur, I’d have to get it before the counter hit thirty-six. These were wasteful days, as there were no histograms to check exposure, no LCD’s to check composition and no memory cards to hold a near endless set of images.

Northern (Baltimore) Oriole (f)
NIkon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f4.0 VR

Is there discipline in the digital era? As I wade through the 850 photographs made during a five hour period that began at 5:00 p.m., was paused for dinner and sleep, and resumed at 5:00 a.m. the next day, I can’t help but wonder how I might have handled this opportunity in 1995. In that year, I made my first trip to Costa Rica armed with a manual focus Contax RTS and 300mm f4.0 Carl Zeiss lens. Not the typical gear for a travel and wildlife photographer, I was behind the curve foregoing autofocus for optics that I believed to be superior. With camera and tripod in hand, I was limited to 15 rolls of ISO 50 and 100 slide film. The investment in the emulsion coated celluloid set me back about $350 dollars, and I would need to spend about as much to process these precious rolls. With ten days of shooting in front of me, I was like a miser with a penny, disciplined, stingy and patient; these were the essential cognitive tools of the successful nature photographer. I repeated the following mantra in my head… ten good shots in ten days is all I want or need.

Northern (Baltimore) Oriole in motion (m)
NIkon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f4.0 VR

Rose-breasted Grossbeak (m)
NIkon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f4.0 VR

Red-breasted Grossbeak stretching for a drink

Two weeks ago I joined my good friend in a blind that he had constructed near the southeast corner of Minnesota. The Costa Rican birds that I so covet were now migrating north to where I live today. We began our shoot at 5:00 P.M., paused to eat dinner at 9:30, enjoyed the company of friends and family until midnight just to awaken before sunrise and resume the shoot. The birds landed on the sticks and we mashed down on our shutters. Bursts of ten frames per second shattered the records of the past, histograms verified exposure and LCD’s refined our compositions. So as I wade through these 850 images, I reflect nostalgically on that trip to Costa Rica and can’t help but wonder how I actually managed to make ten good pictures in ten days.

Rose-breasted Grossbeak (f)
NIkon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm f4.0 VR

Fires to the North
Nikon D810 + Nikon 50mm f1.8 AFS-G

Good Work

May 17, 2016 in May 2016

During one of those all too frequent moments where I was waxing poetic about some prior exploit, a student asked me if I regretted my decision to become a teacher. As these queries often appear in a flurry, I was not surprised when the topic turned to my decision to live in Minnesota rather than my childhood haunts of New York City and Southern California. I suppose that if I grew up in a midwest suburb and my teacher was from a heavily publicized city and appeared surprisingly competent, I might wonder why he chose to stick around rather than pursue what seemed to be a more exciting life. Were I was asked to reflect on these choices twenty years ago you might here a hint regret, but today I am rather sanguine when it comes to my plight. Teaching has been good to me. While it is very hard work, emotionally demanding and can be painfully redundant, the rewards far outweigh the costs. There is a real purpose to my life, as I have the opportunity to share my deep passion for how scientists do science. While I love to lecture about all things ecology, evolution and molecular biology, my real creativity is borne from those rare moments when I can frame an exploration that fosters naive discovery.

In the Hole of the Storm
Nikon D500 + Nikon 200-400mm VR AFS

As "Teacher's Week" came and went, I couldn't help but reflect on the good fortune that led me into this field. Working as a field ecologist for a university team on St. George Island, Alaska, I was also charged with helping a middle-school teacher on sabbatical to fit in with our group. Not being much of a people person, this was quite a daunting task; yet there was something about the man that seemed remarkable to me. Dwight was not only a middle-school science teacher, but he was an amateur photographer who chose to spend his free minutes documenting life with a camera. After nearly two weeks of collaboration and training Dwight and I parted company, but he left a little something behind. I think it was the midnight dinners and frosty beers that loosened our tongues, and resulted in philosophical chats about living a quality life. This teacher loved his work, believed he was doing good, and enjoyed the small things like so few seem to do. It's been nearly 30 years since I last talked to the man, but I sincerely believe that the teacher I am today can be attributed to my own naive discovery about a guy and his career that evoked passion and a love for good work.

In the Shadow of Fairy Falls
Nikon D810 + Nikon 16-35mm VR AFS

The Reluctant Keystone

May 04, 2016 in May 2016

The structure of a thriving community is often dependent on one or two species within the food web. Often referred to as “keystones,” the niche they occupy have broad implications for the other species in the environment. The role of a so-called keystone is often overlooked until it is too late. For example, the regional extirpation of wolves, otters and elephants from their respective ranges led to striking reductions in biodiversity. The loss of just one critical species has unpredictable consequences that include broad ecosystem changes due to a collapsed food web and unintended trophic interactions. In each case, once the keystone is returned to its depleted environment, biodiversity and ecosystem complexity is restored (See Reintroduction of the Wolf).

Because of its destructive tendencies, the beaver (Castor canadensis), is an under appreciated keystone. Known best for felling trees, damming rivers and building lodges, this large semi-aquatic rodent plays a critical role in promoting biodiversity throughout deciduous wetland habitats.

By pruning forests of aspen and ash, beavers create open patches that promote the germinationof herbaceous plants throughout the understory. Rays of sunlight, once blocked by the impenetrable canopy, are now free to initiate the growth of dormant and light hungry species. This seemingly benevolent affair is far from altruistic, beavers drop trees to access tender leaves and repurpose the fallen wood as building materials.

Branches and chiseled tree trunks are carefully piled wherever the sound of flowing water can be heard. By keying into these audible cues, beavers can identify breaches in their fortress and optimize the size of their habitat. The blocked water will flood lowland areas and allow beavers to swim to new forage rather than risk predation by walking clumsily on land.

The dam-building activity not only floods forests, but creates habitat for wood ducks, geese, diving fowl, kingfishers and pileated woodpeckers. The broad habitat modification disrupts climax communities and resets the succession of the forest. As a result, the actions of this one rodent species have a profound impact on the biodiversity structure of forest ecosystems.

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