Wildlife – Tim Durham Photography

Alaska Brown Bears 2016

Tim Durham — Sun, 04 Sep 2016 05:53:03 +0000

Alaska Visitors Center, Anchorage, Ak.

This authentic sod-roofed log cabin, on the corner of Fourth Ave. and F Street in downtown Anchorage, houses the Alaska Visitor Center. To me, it symbolizes the very cornerstone of life on the Last Frontier. How appropriate to start this photographic adventure right here.

Listening

I’ve seen many fellow travelers steam forward head down, on a goal-oriented mission. I’ve been guilty of that. In most of my travels, though, I’ve been quite fortunate to be able to meet and engage some of the local folks. All kinds of ’em. I was sitting on a bench opposite this fellow in downtown Anchorage and as I am accustomed to doing, I engaged him with eye contact and a smile and started a conversation.
Then, I shut up and listened to the man talk.
I learned that when he was a young boy, he and his dad killed a grizzly together. He related how clear his memory of that was… he aimed for the head, and his dad aimed for the heart… He showed me the bear claw that he had taken from it.
I learned that he spent four years in the Army.
I learned that he had been a fireman for twelve years and had fought forest fires in Alaska, Washington, Oregon, California, and Idaho.
We split a hot dog.

Onward, Through the Fog!

Grizzly Bear Talisman

The ride from the hotel to the airport shows the support most Alaskans have for the Iditarod, and builds my excitement for the adventure to come.

All my photographic life, I’ve dreamed of mingling with, and capturing, Alaska’s grizzly bears up-close-and-personal. And thanks to my good friend, Art Wolfe, here I am at curbside, heart rate only slightly increased. So far.

Winnie, Bob, Art, Linda, Vaughn, Steve, and Kevin.

Our welcoming committee at the Bristol Bay Sport Fishing Lodge

(Wow, what a nice place!)

The DeHavilland Beaver flight deck in all it’s glory

Aboard an aircraft out of the pages of history and still flying all over Alaska and Canada today is a thrilling way for an old retired pilot to go out to the photo shoot and back every day. Early each morning we would fly out of camp, look around, and find how far upriver the salmon had progressed since the day before. Then we’d find a large pond in the tundra nearby where the Beaver would drop us off for the day.

Um, did anybody hear what time pick-up was? Anyone? Ferris

A brief quarter-mile hike brought us to the river… and these four fishermen.

Peaceful Coexistence

Three French fishermen and one big ol’ bruin sharing the wealth of the stream.
It occurs to me that it’s true: All you need in life you can learn in kindergarten. You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the old boar thought about about the three new-comer’s fishing techniques. Did he just snort and disdainfully walk away, or did I just imagine that?

A few minutes later we were attracted by some splashing just across and down-river… This young Mom and her single cub were looking for breakfast.

Wait here, son, while Mom goes to fetch our breakfast.

Mom is trying to chase some of the salmon into the shallows for easier picking. She probably learned this style of fishing from her mother.

The next day…

…we got dropped off in a small lake about two miles away from the river and began our trek across the tundra. Walking 0n tundra in the chest waders (they’re required to ford several streams and the river itself several times), carrying all your earthly photographic possessions on your back to get to the “extraction point” is not a “walk in the park”. It’s like walking across a seemingly endless soft mattress with rolls and tucks pulling at your boots trying to trip you, then slogging across the river. The hard work was rewarded, though, when we spied a big female just up the hill from our position. At first glance, it appeared that she was watching us approach. In actuality, she wasn’t seeming to be paying that much attention to us.

Then we see this little blonde head pop up next to momma.

A Watchful Eye

Mom keeps a watchful eye as she scans the tundra, danger is everywhere.

Mom sees another bear about 1 km away, slowly but steadily, coming their way. It’s a big male. Mom tenses up, her back stiffening, her eyes, ears, and nose at full attention. Sensing Mom’s unease, the little blonde cub automatically tenses up too, and ducks down behind a little hillock. Mom knows that a boar will readily kill and eat her cub. That will eventually throw her back into estrus allowing him to breed her, spreading his genes ever further among the populace. Genetics in action, producing the biggest, toughest, and most likely to survive bears.

No decisions to make for Mom, it was all very clear… She immediately began to lead her cub away to safety. (Good momma!)

We’ll be leaving now…

Just Leaving

Turns out, we’re maybe a half-mile from the river. Gavriel “Eagle eyes” Jecan spots seagulls over the river. Good news. Where there are seagulls, there are shredded fish… and Bears!

In our excitement to be nearing the river and a potential bear to photograph, we are focused on the ridge ahead where we could finally peek over the crest and see if the seagulls and Gavriel were right…

I paused for a moment to catch my breath and turned to look for Winnie. There she was, about 25 meters behind me, walking by the same brush that I had just walked by. The brush with the big brown bear behind it. That brush.
I’m sure and certain that I looked hilarious with all my animated arm-waving, gesturing, and pointing.
And ms Winnie didn’t look as much amused… as perplexed. When she finally got within whispering range I yelled, in a whisper, mind you, Bear! Behind! Brush!
She got the message. And instead of doing anything stupid like running, she walked about ten more paces, turned, and set up her tripod for a few Up Close and Personal shots.
Well played, Winnie.

After very quietly easing up close to Winnie, I got to get a little more intimate with this good-looking, healthy, big blonde girl.

then… the PORTRAIT OF THE DAY!

Life is good.

This has been one of the best years for blueberries in the Kenai area. This big girl loves blueberries, they’re staining her snout! Berries and salmon, salmon, then back for some more blueberries. Ahhhh. It’s a good life.

Yea!, our little party has enjoyed an invigorating morning walk, several brisk (and successful) crossings of the river and tributary or two, and we’ve finally arrived at our destination for the day: the river chock-full of salmon and bear.

Oh, great. Another cousin fishing right here???

Hmmmm, what’s this thing? Doesn’t smell like salmon, so I’ll just move along.

Travel tip: Never drink flavoured coffee while sitting on a gravel bar in bear country.
Just sayin’…

She’s a good hunter.

Multiple targets in sight…

Locked on… and those Claws!

Chase ’em into the shallows!…

and snorkel if ya have to…

HA!

Salmon. It’s what’s for dinner!

ICELAND -Shooting the Bird(s) and Fresh Seafood, Iceland Style!

Tim Durham — Thu, 31 Jul 2014 22:57:54 +0000

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Shooting the Bird(s) and Fresh Seafood, Iceland Style!

Today, we’re gonna get rowdy and SHOOT THE BIRDS. A lot of birds. Then for a nice on-board fresh seafood buffet like you’ve never been to before. Did I say “fresh”? Oh, baby!

Our ride for the day:

The Saerun – Das Boot

I was so busy exploring and shooting some pics that I didn’t even notice the plywood covering one of the windows! And now that I look a bit closer, she’s got a few minor dents in her hull, too. Had I noticed this before cast-off, I might have had a few second thoughts. Nyahh. They’ve probably got some life jackets. I hope.

Bird hunting along the rocky cliffs…

This cliff face was just full of nesting shags.

As long as I was in Iceland, I wanted to shoot some birds. The pic above is what all those folks with camera-phones and inexpensive point-n-shoots will probably get to look at upon their return home. Interesting? Yep. Pretty? Yep, again. But I wanted to be able to see them a bit more up close and personal. So…

…I packed my camera gear and lugged it most of the way across the world. I was really glad that I made the effort, because I got to see those beautiful avians mostly “up close and personal”… Hope you enjoy these bird shots as much as I do.

First, The Shags:

The European shag, or common shag (Phalacrocorax aristotelis) is a species of cormorant. It is distinguished from the great cormorant by its smaller size, lighter build, thinner yellowish bill, and in breeding adults by the crest and metallic blue and green-tinged sheen on the feathers.

The European shag is one of the deepest divers among the cormorant family. Shags have been shown to dive to around 45 meters (148 ft). When they dive, they jump out of the water first to give extra oomph to the dive. European shags are preponderantly benthic feeders**, i.e. they find their prey on the sea bottom. They will eat a wide range of fish but their commonest prey is the sand eel.

** Like politicians.

The Good News – It breeds on coasts, nesting on rocky ledges or in crevices or small caves.

The Bad News – Their nests are terrible looking (and smelling) heaps of rotting seaweed or twigs cemented together by the bird’s own guano.

This next bird has guano (aka: poop, birdshit, etc) all over it’s back from those damned upstairs neighbors who just don’t seem to care.

Attention paparazzi aboard the Saerun: No pics of my chick please, I’m trying to get it down for a nap!

This chick was born naked. No feathers, no down, nada. It’s taken (probably) about two or three months for it to get this fuzzy and fluffy, and is almost ready for fledging.

Next, The Kittiwakes:

Black Legged Kittiwake

This is a pretty little bird although, like the shags, it’s not overly mindful about sanitation around the house… And like the shags, these birds build their nests on rocky cliffs over the water out of… yep. S.O.S. Seaweed, twigs and grass, and… bird cr@p.

Time for a Kittiwake Siesta

Apartment living, Icelandic Kittiwake Style

Everyone wants to take a little afternoon nap… but there’s always one old bird from the top floor that wants to gossip.

Third, the Fulmar:

Northern fulmar (Fulmarus glacialis)

Although the fulmar reminds me of a gull with granny glasses, it’s really more like the petrels we watched in Antarctica. And to a certain extent… to the salt-water iguanas we got to see in the Galapagos Islands on another adventure. These birds spend a substantial amount of time at sea slurping up plankton, tiny crustaceans, and tiny fish near the surface. One can imagine the volume of salt water that they ingest! They retain much of the H2O systemically, and use their “de-salinization” glands in their beaks to spit the concentrated salt (and some water) out these tubes on top of their beaks.

I believe that these birds generally mate for life. And since the perfectly shat-upon cliff dwelling is so hard to find and get fixed-up just right, many times a pair will split up… one stays home and guards that perfect “Home-Sweet-Home”, while the other goes out to sea for a grocery trip. Then they switch roles. Cool, huh?

Fourth, The Puffins:

And now to “shoot” some of those cute little Puffins (with my Canon, of course). I love these cute little birds. With that highly specialized and colourful beak, they’re sometimes called Sea Parrots.

Click here for a neat little movie clip about puffins from National Geographic

55 mph, flat-out, just above the surface in ground effect

The range of the Puffin includes the whole North Atlantic, including Iceland which has one of the world’s largest colonies. They lead a rather solitary life during the fall and all winter, living alone on the surface of the North Atlantic just bobbing around, swimming, feasting, and sleeping. They’re excellent swimmers, and use their stubby little wings (a “compromise sized wing” for swimming or flying) to dive down up to 60 meters in search of herring or sand eels (Mmmm sand eels, their fave). Once airbourne, if flying, the little speedsters are fast, 55mph, but not terribly maneuverable. While at sea, they usually “land” by crashing head-long into a wave crest. While on land, they usually attempt a belly flop, but end up… well, End-Over-End.

Thinking back, if I’d had to crash land somewhere after Every take-off… I probably wouldn’t have become a pilot.

Puffins land on North Atlantic seacoasts and islands to form breeding colonies each spring and summer, where they live in burrows. Suites, actually. Many have two chambers, one for pooping, and another lined with grass and feathers for nesting and breeding, incubating their single egg, and hopefully, raising their single chick.

Both parents take turns incubating it. When a chick hatches, its parents take turns feeding it by carrying small fish (and Sand eels – Yum!) back to the nest in their relatively spacious bills. Once they capture a small herring or eel, they hold it against their upper beak with their tongue, thus freeing the lower hinged part of the beak to go right ahead collecting further foodstuffs for their little “puffling”. No, really. That’s what the chicks are called. Pufflings.

Puffin couples often reunite at the same burrow site each year. It is unclear how these birds navigate back to their home grounds. They may use visual reference points, smells, sounds, the Earth’s magnetic fields—or perhaps even the stars.

Bath Time

Ahhh, I always feel so much better after a brisk, refreshing bath.

Seafood !

And now, for something to eat:

After an exhausting day of bird shooting, Icelandic Style with my camera, it’s time to re-stoke the fires behind my belt buckle. I’m Hungry for some fresh seafood!

All you can eat seafood store

Oh, look. The waiter has just placed our order…

…and Wow, it’s almost ready, now.

Yes, yes, that’s exactly what we ordered.

A brief wait while our order was “processed”, and voilà…

Dinner’s almost ready!

Dump it onto the table boys and girls, the “crew” is becoming restless…

Surely that cute little 16 y/o girl isn’t gonna gut this thing! Eeewww!

Then one-half of a second and two flicks of a sharp blade, and

This is the result. Fresh. Seafood. With a teeny bit of sal from la Mer….

Winnie ! ! !

Tomorrow, we’re going down into an (I hope) extinct volcano.

Stay tuned…

and good night for now.

ANTARCTICA – South Shetland Islands, Aitcho Island

Tim Durham — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 02:57:08 +0000

South Shetland Islands, Aitcho Island

On the voyage south across the Drake toward the Antarctic peninsula, the sighting of the first iceberg was a momentous event, marking our arrival to a world that people only suspected or imagined a little over a hundred or so years ago.

First Iceberg spotted!

It was a time of personal wonder and amazement. Wonder at what lay ahead. Amazement at all the things that somehow coalesced in my life and brought me from Weatherford, Texas, to the Antarctic. I took just a moment to feel thankful for my luck and good fortune.

Soon, towering snow covered black volcanic mountains appeared off the bow. The snow covered peaks form rivers of ice that flow slowly down to the ocean to calve, creating an endless parade of icebergs that eventually melt, their crystal clear fresh water evaporating into the air to form snow…

and the life of the mountain begins again…

The air is so perfectly clear, with no smoke, smog, or haze, that perspective as to distance or size becomes impossible. An iceberg that appears to be small and just over there is actually kilometers away. Taking a zodiac over to it’s face takes a long time, as the berg gets bigger and bigger.. your zodiac becomes smaller and smaller… until it’s dwarfed by 20m (70′) of ice

We were advised that this would be a “wet landing”, so we planned accordingly. Long underwear, top and bottom. Fleeces. Rubber pants. Gum boots and parkas. Time to suit up, layering on the clothing, hoping for the best, preparing for a sudden change in the weather that could bring on the worst in minutes. We met aft and bathed our gum boots and pants legs in Virkon, a disinfectant that kills bacteria, spores, fungi, and viruses. These folks are adamant about protecting the environment, no effort too large or small. Next, we boarded our zodiacs for the trip ashore…

We were bound for little Barrientos Island (Aitcho Island). At a mere 1.5km long, has steep cliffs (70m) on one end and tapers gently to the sea on the “landing” end. It featured colonies of Gentoo penguins with their chicks, Chinstrap penguins still on their eggs, giant petrels, the ever-present and always vicious and opportunistic skua gull, and finally, elephant seals laying around on the northern and western sides of the island.

On the way to Aitcho Island

(The cliffs in the background are over 70m tall.)

One of the Gentoo colonies patiently watch and await our arrival. I’m sure that they were all thinking that these “were the ugliest. yellow. birds. ever. And it’s simply comical… they way they toddle around. And look! They all look just alike!”

Strolling down to the beach to have lunch

In the two previous images, the first gentoo is just waddling around. Perhaps to go to the beach for lunch. The second image shows one of the funnier traits of the gentoo. Kleptomania. They’re compulsive thieves. This one has just stolen a small pebble from a neighboring bird’s rock nest (they will not nest on snow), and is taking it back to the family nest. Pebbles and small rocks are penguin lucre. Cash. Moolah. And on rocky Barrientos, it’s easier to steal a rock than go find one. All the good rocks have already been found, anyway.

The image below seems to represent a typical penguin nesting area here on the peninsula. It consists of a rocky nest, with one of the parent penguins (they take turns), and one or two chicks. They are strategically placed, with great care, to allow 1) toddling room between nests, plus 2) enough room – maybe 1cm – to avoid getting pecked by the neighbors as you toddle through, and 3) room to lift your cute little brushy tail… and squirt to your heart’s content.

Gentoos with their chicks

Gentoo chicks have been described as ever-growing bags with a large opening at the top and a smaller, but equally busy, opening at the bottom. The parents consume so much pink krill, and digest it so rapidly, that they don’t even get complete food absorption. Hence the pink penguin poo. And the chicks… their diets until fledging? Regurgitated krill. Yep, kids, you’re having that for breakfast AGAIN. Eat up, it’s good for you, and you’ll grow up big, and strong enough to kick a skua’s ass.

Barf. It’s what’s for lunch today.

A Gentoo Gussies Itself Up

My favorite penguin is the Chinstrap Penguin. Slightly smaller than a gentoo, but better looking.

Note that it’s little wings are white underneath… That’s normal.

yet

The underside of this little chinstrap’s wings are pink.

Hottie

A penguin has an outer coat of very tiny, but thick, oily feathers, that cover a down layer beneath. Keeps it dry and warm. Sometimes, a bit too warm when the temperature rises and hovers around -2C gasp, pant… They react by dilating their vessels in their wings to rid them of excess heat.

Joe Cool

As I mentioned earlier, gentoos and chinstrap penguins nest only on bare rock, making their nests with pebbles and small stones that they gather or (preferably) steal. If no good nesting areas are found near the beach… they climb. They really climb. Damned near straight up. Until they find a suitable area to build a nest. So. Those ugly big feet are good for something!

Check out how high these birds have climbed, one little hop at a time, to find suitable nesting… The will to breed and multiply is strong.

These gentoos, having no nesting area on the beach (too close to predation) begin the hike up a snowy hill in the quest for nesting areas, leaving behind a prodigious pink penguin poo path that marks their progress. POO.

The skua gull is Chief-in-Charge of Antarctic clean-up.

Skua Gull

It’s omnivorous. It’s crafty and determined. It only eats two kinds of food: food that moves, and food that doesn’t. It’s one of the major predators for penguin eggs and chicks.

“Happily ever after” for penguins doesn’t occur very often. Less than half the time. Much less, probably…

Another bird on the clean-up list is the Snowy Sheathbill. A jack-of-all-trades, if you will.

Snowy Sheathbills

The Snowy Sheathbills are the only bird species in Antarctica that doesn’t have webbed feet. They roost well up the cliff-sides out of harm’s way… and oddly enough, usually on one foot. Well adapted to the Antarctic, they eat anything. Eggs, chicks, fish, dead stuff, yes..penguin poo, krill, and even algae. Mmmm good.

All these thoughts of food were making me really hungry. Lucky for me it was time to leave Aitcho and head for the ship. And supper. Ohhhh, I’m hoping that the chef will regurgitate something really tasty. And kind of soupy. And warm. Mmmmmm.

On the way back, our zodiac took us by the cliffs on the end of the island to see some seals…

The word “Coexist” comes to mind…

…and and gave us a brief tour of the iceberg that Sea Spirit had dropped anchor near…

Even prettier up close and personal…

This was a free floating berg. The water, at -1C is generally warmer than the air above, thus the berg slowly melts from below. The ice gradually becomes lighter and floats higher in the water, producing the “age lines” seen above.

This evening, at the bar, I’m in a quiet, pensive mood. I finally determined that I’m in a state of visual overload, unable to process all that I’ve seen. One more sip, and off to dinner with those rowdy-assed Aussies.

Tomorrow, Half Moon Island and Yankee Harbour, South Shetlands.

ANTARCTICA – Drake Passage

Tim Durham — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 04:44:51 +0000

Drake Passage

Sir Francis Drake was not only an explorer, but was also an extremely successful pirate. September 26th, 1580, Drake sailed into Plymouth England after completing a journey of 2 years and 10 months, with pirated treasures worth over 10 million dollars. It was for this plundering that Queen Elizabeth knighted the wayward explorer!

IT’S A GULL !

Sailing South through Beagle Channel we left Tierra del Fuego bound for the Antarctic Peninsula. We saw wandering albatrosses, and many, many gulls, cape petrels and giant petrels.

Cape Petrels

Would we discover the “Drake Lake” or the “Drake Shake” off the bow of our boat? Sometimes the stickmen (“they say” – y’all quote them too) say the the Passage can be as smooth as a bab.. as smooth as glass. Our official forecast from the bridge, was for “some movement of the boat… please secure your cabins…” We cleared Beagle into open water around midnight. It was not going to be the “Lake”.

While the glassware in the bar and bath were thankfully snugged in their places, everything else was obeying one of Newton’s more important laws, and seeking it’s lowest possible point. Thank goodness that the lid to the head was shut. Winnie and I would have surely lost our Rx meds, toothpaste, and brushes to the Neptune of the commode bowl. Okay. Maybe not exactly lose them.. they float?.. but you get the picture. What woke us from our sound sleep… were drawers in the chest opening. And closing. And opening. And closing. Doors slamming. Things falling off of our tabletops. Things falling off the tabletops in the next cabins. Colourful language from the Brits, Aussies, and Kiwis. Colorful language from we Americans. There are wonderful nuances there that make me yearn for a trip to New Zealand to pick up their accent and learn a new way to curse.

What we had ahead of us for the next 100+ nautical miles were 40Kt winds from the WSW,

and moderate seas of 3-4m

The seas were quartering a bit from starboard, so the boat not only pitched… it rolled. The expression “One hand for the boat at all times” was becoming more and more apparent with each pitch and roll. And having a shower? Think of yourself standing with one foot on top of a basket ball in a moving vehicle while trying to soap/rinse/repeat/wipe hands on pants.

On the plus side, though…Yum. Breakfast is going to be wide open in the morning.

After we re-secured our stuff, we slept wonderfully, rocked to sleep… down, left, up, right, down, left, up, right… by Drake.

“Some of us are over the seasick stage and no longer want to die.” Hartford after 10 days on the ‘Nimrod’ with Shackleton in 1907.

Tomorrow morning, after breakfast with plenty of elbow room… a bio-security briefing, followed by a zodiac briefing. I think that we’re going to be going ashore on the South Shetland Islands by afternoon!