Friday, November 21, 2014

Winter white


Every year's seasons have their own gifts and rhythms. I associate winter and white; my mother had winter-white slacks that were more cream than nurse-white and allowed her to wear the shade before Easter. Most folks equate winter's white with snowfall, I'm sure--especially given this year's early blizzards up north. The Outer Banks' winter-white is mostly feathered, not flaked. Northern Gannets dive offshore. Egrets and ibis are seen in greater numbers. For the past several years, a couple dozen American White Pelicans joined their smaller cousins, our brown pelicans, at Pea Island, so they've been added to the list. Last year, a major irruption of Snowy Owls deep into the south brought at least two young birds to Ocracoke for more than a month, with stops for one in Hatteras in late November. So far we have not had any owls, but I am still watchful. Conditions seem promising as they are once again on the move south. What we do have that is unprecedented are huge groups of the white pelicans--as many as 150 have been reported! I've photographed between 40 and 50 in one group while noticing other groups of similar size at greater distance. Brown pelicans feed by high-diving (or in the case of younger birds, low-flopping) into the water and coming up with fish for themselves. The White Pelicans do not dive; they swim in unison, herding fish so all can feed at once. It's an interesting and fun strategy to watch. If you are in the area, they are worth a trip to the North Pond, which is just north of the Visitor Center on Pea Island. The dike there is easily walked. They are the largest American bird most of us will ever get to see. Only the California Condor is larger. The white pelican has a wingspan up to nine feet; Bald Eagles in comparison are six to seven-and-a-half feet and our resident brown pelicans measure six to eight feet.




Sunday, November 9, 2014



This photograph says "fall" to me. There is a quality to the light I begin to see in autumn, as the days shorten and the sun's circuit is lower in the sky. The clouds change too and lower overall humidity creates skyscapes we don't often see in summer. Some of these are over-the-top vibrant, great swatches of intense pinks and oranges streaking through the sky and gilding the sea. Other times, as on this evening, the palette is more subtle. If you look closely you can see bands of light and dark shining up from the horizon at an angle. Those sun rays you see shining from behind a cloud on a bright day are called crepuscular rays, and when they appear opposite the sun's location, as here, you are really seeing the opposite end of those rays as they arc across the sky to the other horizon. It's a neat phenomenon and one I look for at sunset at the ocean, when the sun is actually behind me, sinking over the Sound. The gentle curve of a line of pelicans flying back to their roosting grounds for the night adds to the feeling of rest and serenity I associate with this time of year. Here's another example of "anti-crepuscular rays" -- the correct name for their appearance on the opposite horizon and one of what we more typically see, shining out from the sun itself.  I always think of Glory, when I see them. 




Sunday, November 2, 2014

High Drama

Late yesterday afternoon, our Outer Banks weather deteriorated as a strong low pressure system brought colder temperatures along with high winds and seas out of the north/northwest. Most of our coastal storms are nor'easters, and in fact, the wind vacillated between north and northeast yesterday afternoon before the brunt of the storm arrived.  The shift to northwest winds today sent spray flying skyward against a sunset-brushed sky. I love the sea and sky in all sorts of weather, and was out near dusk both yesterday and today to witness the spectacle.  Here is what the sea and sky looked like late yesterday afternoon.




And here is the same general stretch of Nags Head beach taken 24 hours later. Both are beautiful in their own way. This is the main reason I am a photographer: to stand as witness to the offerings of sea and sun and sky and earth, and with my "yes" as I click the shutter, to give thanks.