Tag Archives: snow geese

Wings In The Sunrise

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The time is 7:48:47 am, February 9th of a year gone past. It is bitter, bitterly cold. And it is the exact moment that the conditions are just right for the thousands of Snow Geese wintering here at Bosque del Apache to lift into the air en masse. The rushing noise of their wings punctuated by their coarse honking calls creates a sound unique to this moment. As they lift and try for altitude they will pass overhead so closely you can feel the downward force of the wind from their wings, perhaps only a dozen feet or more over your head.

It is a mesmerizing sight to see, with sometimes 30,000 birds clustered together on long rafts that nearly fill the ponds they spend the night in suddenly, at some unknown cue explode into the air. They rarely circle the pond as they ascend, instead the various family groups, or tribes, or however they relate to each other begin to separate and choose the course to their day’s feeding area. Soon in mere seconds it seems, the pond is empty and quiet. Perhaps there may be one or two stragglers left on the ponds flat surface, those who have decided that they’re going to take the day off today, or perhaps the floating bodies of a few who have given up the ghost during the night, due to age or injury or just plain fatigue, but quiet. The silence is deafening.

This event takes place every morning the Snow geese are here at Bosque del Apache until one morning, again on some unknown cue,  they rise once more but instead of returning they head North to their summer range and the ponds are quiet and still until the coming Fall. Then each morning without fail you can take part in the wings in the sunrise experience. It is truly an unforgettable moment.

Icarus Rising

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Sandhill cranes are known for being steady, unadventurous birds that tend to go about their lives with a minimum of disruption. They make their migration to and fro and get it done with workman-like precision. They seem to be humorless creatures rather like one of those farming societies that believe work is the joy of life. They dress in gray because that is the least colorful color they can find and they cover their heads with a small cap of red, which signifies the heat of eternal damnation unless they fill their waking hours with productive endeavors. They form small groups of closely knit family members instead of the giant flocks of thousands as the gypsy-like Snow geese do. They are steady, capable, unimaginative birds. They are a plain bird.

But, and you knew there was a but, there is always one that thinks differently, wants more, needs excitement in his life, needs to capture that thing that is missing in his existence. He isn’t aware of what that thing might be he just feels it all the time, gnawing at his complacency, urging, no demanding, that he go and find that which is missing in his life. He ignores the pleas and gentle warnings that he is putting his standing with the family at risk. Even stern remonstrations do not sway him. He must live the way he feels,which in this case is away from the confining, stifling structure of his peers.

He is known by those who observe these things as a bird that does not keep regular hours. He is Icarus and must fly to the sun. He will try and try until he has no strength left, then he will try once more. I kind of like the guy.

Quartering Into The Rising Sun

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It was a brisk frosty morning at Bosque del Apache when the sun got to the point where  the Snow geese began to rise up into the air and head for their feeding grounds. Brisk was nearly a misnomer as brisk was about 27-28 degrees with a wind coming out of the Southeast at about 25 miles per hour. This probably felt like a mild spring day for the Snow geese but it felt pretty damn brisk for the photographers. Hiking or jogging or moving quickly in these conditions lessened the feeling of being cold, but standing in one place not moving, waiting for the action to start so you could go to work, was what some might call a miserable experience.

They say that you need to dress for the cold in order to be comfortable in conditions like this. Wearing both your 800 count down coats, and sorrels stuffed with heating pads and a hat a Russian would be proud to wear, made it just possible to stand out there for the two or three hours needed to catch the morning flight schedule of the Snow geese and the Sandhill cranes. Drinking several thermos’ of boiling hot tea helped a little. There was many a longing glance cast back at the vehicle with its heater and the promise of warmth, but the deal was you needed to stand there because even if you so much as looked away at the wrong moment you could miss the shot of the trip. Yes we know there is a certain amount of masochism involved in this profession. Yes we know we brought this on ourselves, yes we know that all you had to do was turn around and walk back to the truck and this would all be over. But that would be like a Seal candidate ringing the bell. It meant failure and for those diehards among us, that is not acceptable. So we stamp our feet, bitch to each other about how cold it is, and curse the birds for not hurrying this business up, and then it happens.

One by one the Sandhills take off, then the Snow geese rise en masse with a fluttering roar as thousands of wings beat together lifting them skyward, their calls to each other a deafening cacophony of sound, and just like that the big part of the business of shooting them is over. That’s when the newbies, and those who came for just that portion of the morning flight pack up and gratefully head to the warmth of their vehicles. There is usually some good-hearted banter between those that are leaving and the few of us that stay for that extra shot or two. “What, You didn’t get enough pictures yet?” “Cold enough?” “Forget where your car is?” “Feet froze to the ground?” Um, it’s over, dude, go home.” “I’m going for breakfast, Eggs, potatoes, sausage and bacon, some toast and really hot coffee. What are you going to do?”

But you been here before and this isn’t your first rodeo. You know that some of the best shots of all are still possible as the stragglers leave, one by one. The light is still good. Better in fact for the kind of shots left to take. Like this one of a lone Snow goose quartering into the rising sun as it hurries to catch up with its flock. The sun hits it full on, making the white feathers on its head and breast glow in the early morning light. Showing the single-minded determination to do what it was born to do. A perfect example of the grace and power of its species.

Now you can go back to the truck. Now you can turn the heater up to the fattest part of the red line that says hot. And you can go find that last guy who taunted you with breakfast. Maybe you can even talk into buying or you’ll tell everyone what a wimp he was for leaving early.

I may Be A Pig But I Love You

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“I may be a pig, but I love you”. That’s what we heard, that and other porcine endearments that were floating in the air at Bosque del Apache wildlife refuge as these two Javelina displayed their affection for each other in open courtship. It was a surprise to find them at the refuge as Bosque del Apache is primarily known for birds. Snow geese, Ross’ goose, Sandhill cranes and the occasional Tundra swan, not to mention every variety of Hawk and eagle, egret and duck, owls, pigeons, goatsuckers and songbird you can imagine.

But not Javelinas. Especially not Javelinas in love. It was unmistakable, they were unabashedly involved with each other, rubbing their flat little pink snouts together, snuffling, standing side by side and stroking each others back with their necks, giggling and muttering little piggy names to each other as they made plans for Javelina trysts.

As we watched they continued as if we were not there, oblivious to everything but each other. When their passion reached a fever pitch they would discretely move off into the brush to be alone then come back out trying to act as if nothing had happened. Yeah, right, we knew. They couldn’t hide it. Like we couldn’t tell that they were Javelinas in love. Occasionally they would stop and watch us for a moment or two, pose for pictures, then become enraptured with each other again and head for the brush. Finally it just became embarrassing and we left.

Spring is slowly coming and with it signs of love are everywhere. If you go south from Colorado in a straight line you will eventually encounter Spring. It will be a solid line that stretches roughly east to west. On one side of it, usually the south side, you will see flowers, and bees messing around, and song birds making suggestive sounds to each other, and lots of love, and on the other side, normally the north side, you will find snow and cold and brown grass, grumpy people and very little love. Right now that line is about twenty miles north of the Mexican border, however each and every day it moves north a little bit. But soon, uh huh, soon it will make its way north toward us and maybe you even, and it will be bringing you-know-what with it. That’s right, Pigs in Love.

Now before you get the wrong idea, it’s not just pigs that get in love, it ‘s everything. Name a creature and when spring hits it, it’s in love. You have to be careful your very own self when you go outside in spring because it doesn’t play favorites, if you’re in the way it’s going to hit you, and before you know it, Whammo Sammo you’re in love and probably out in the bushes somewhere. You’ve been warned, if it can get pigs it can get you. So watch out.

Last Tango In Bosque

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Sandhill cranes are one of the bird species that uses dance as part of their mating ritual. Many species do this but since we’re talking about Sandhill cranes we don’t care about them. In fact let’s ignore them entirely. They can get their own post from some other blogger.

Sandhills have a unique childhood as they are constantly uprooted, traveling back and forth between various nesting and feeding grounds, never staying in one place for more than a few months. They are the avian equivalent of the Roma or as they ‘re more commonly known, travelers, or gypsies. Consequently they have developed some bad habits such as stealing grain out of farm fields, throwing raucous parties where they spend the day singing ribald songs and dancing, and consequently are unwelcome in many of the areas they frequent.

It’s the dancing we’re addressing in this post. The uninhibited, wildly abandoned, provocative dancing. This is primarily a “G” rated blog but occasionally we come across behavior that we simply must point out so that you, the reader, can take what ever protective measures you choose to keep your children, or even yourselves, from being unduly influenced by this hedonistic display of licentiousness.

We were shocked when we came across this overt display in the normally sedate Bosque del Apache bird refuge in southern New Mexico. This is a place where thousands of birds congregate during the winter. Snow geese, Ross’s goose, ducks of all kinds and you could move from one place in the refuge to another and see these various birds and ducks behaving in a civilized, normal manner, and aside from an infrequent squabble, never exhibiting any aberrant behavior.

But then this quiet garden of Eden was discovered by the travelers, or lets call a bird a bird, the Sandhill cranes. Suddenly the harmony of this gentle resting place was shattered all to heck, excuse us but an event like this moves us to use harsh language, by the arrival of flocks upon flocks of these noisy, argumentative, unapologetic, cranes and everything changed.

Suddenly the blatant exhibition of their sexually charged mating rituals, which they held right out in the open for anyone to observe, was rampant. Everywhere you looked there was dancing, and as the more worldly among you surely know what that leads to, we don’t need to follow that path to its conclusion.

Surely a group of individuals whose moral compass has gone so wildly astray could not prevail but sadly, that is not the case. Due to their unrestricted behavior there are now thousands more of these Sandhill cranes and there has been a huge effect on the surrounding areas. Where once this had been a quiet farming area, now the fields are decimated by the hungry opportunistic cranes. Farms have been abandoned and the empty homesteads litter the edges of the refuge. What were once prosperous farms have been turned into the playgrounds of these dancing, squawking, devil-may-care, footloose wanderers.

Above you can see two of these young cranes beginning what is one of the favorite dances of these unfortunately immoral birds, the Tango. Brought up from South America by a group of Argentinian travelers and introduced to their naive American cousins this new dance has swept through the flocks like the pox it is. Now you can see countless pairs of Sandhills performing this dance before heading into the privacy of the surrounding reeds to complete their mating ritual.

Unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be any antidote to this terrible affliction and all we can expect is to see more and more of it in the future. One hesitates to use the word shameful on a group of individuals whose only way of defending their actions is by a strangled sort of gargling that is their voice, but for civilized people it is hard to accept their licentiousness. At this point we are suggesting that the public refrains from bringing small children to the refuge during what is now called the mating season. We hope that by person-cotting the refuge the birds will get the hint to tone down their behavior and we’ll see the last tango at Bosque.

Horn Tooting

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I have just found out that a famous international software company has chosen this image “Bosque Sunrise” to illustrate how a feature in their software works. Besides being a real ego boost this allows many, many people who use this software, or are considering it, to see my work. Thanks to them for including me.

This image was created at Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge in New Mexico on a cold winter morning several years ago. Bosque, as it is usually called, is located on a major flyway and noted for having extraordinary populations of Snow Geese and Sandhill cranes. It was taken moments before the entire population of Snow Geese erupted off the surface of the pond in a massive liftoff called the ascension. This is a daily event where literally thousands of birds fly a few yards over your head in a loud roar of honking, calling and flapping their wings as they leave the ponds to start their day. They are so close you can hear individual wing beats and feel the rush of air as they stream by overhead. It’s all over in a minute or two and suddenly the pond is quiet again. It is like Avian fireworks and is an unforgettable experience. In fact birders, photographers, and tourists arrive from all over the world to do just that. It feels good to have some of your work recognized.

This was a nice way to start the day.

Bosque Banshee

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Screaming down out of the great white north, a snow goose comes in for a landing. One of thousands of birds heading south for the winter she is usually accompanied by the rest of her clan and the clan by the flock and the flocks by each other until the sky is filled to the horizons with birds. They literally darken the sky as they come in to feed at the cornfields and settle in to the ponds for the night.

When I was young, way last century, my maternal grandmother would yell at us kids out the back door “You kids knock it off you sound like a bunch of banshees”. We never knew what banshees were, unless they were a bunch of 8 and 9 year old kids that yelled a lot but we also knew that the razor strap hung on the nail next to the key that never locked the back door so we’d quiet down for a while.

When the snow geese are coming in they must be the banshees that my grandmother yelled about. The sounds they make are incredible and constant and fill the air until you can’t hear anything else. Your very skin seems to resonate with the sound. At sunset when they’re returning to the ponds and filling them with their bodies until it would be impossible for one more bird to land they keep up a constant volume of noise that must soothe them just through being exposed to the standing waves of the sound. Kind of like an audible massage.

The next morning when the magic of the ascension happens the thousands upon thousands of geese lift into the air in unison and at first all you hear is the soft gentle thunder of their wing beats that gets louder and louder as they start to pass over you. They lift off just moments before the sun comes over the hills surrounding the ponds and as the first rays strike them they begin to call in what can only be a song of celebration of a new day.

Banshees or not it is a sound I have come to love and believe that everyone should hear once, although it’s probably a good thing for the geese that my grandmother wasn’t along though.