Birds of East Kent: Purple Sandpiper

The second in an occasional series of posts discussing the different birds that can be found in East Kent and how easy (or not) it is to get a decent picture of them.

Viking Bay, Broadstairs, November 2011

According to the RSPB website, Purple Sandpipers are supposed to be scarce south of Yorkshire, which perhaps explains why some local photographers have been known to risk life and limb (and their camera gear) clambering over wet rocks just to get a photo of one of these birds. However, despite what official sources say, Purple Sandpipers can in fact be found along the Thanet coastline every winter, with the stretch between Stone Bay and Dumpton Gap being a good area to get close-up shots of them. The photo above was taken from the relative comfort (and safety) of Broadstairs jetty.

Often described as "dumpy little waders" in the guidebooks, Purple Sandpipers are slightly smaller and not as bold as the more plentiful Turnstones with whom they share their winter haunts. Their propensity for skulking under the jetty, or creeping furtively along the seawall while picking at the seaweed-covered stone makes them easy to overlook unless you're actively seeking them out.

Distinctive features include a downcurved beak and mustard-coloured legs. The purple sheen that gives them their name is less obvious, but if the light hits them at the right angle, it shows up quite well:

Broadstairs, February 2010

Don't dismiss these "dumpy" birds; under the right conditions, they can be very photogenic.


See also:
More of my Purple Sandpiper photos on Flickr
Purple Sandpiper (RSPB)
Purple Sandpiper (Birdforum)

Ocean of Storms

At first glance Oceanus Procellarum (the Ocean of Storms) appears to be one of the less interesting regions of the Moon, presenting to the casual observer nothing more than a vast, monotonous plain of dark grey lava, dotted with the occasional impact crater. But look closer and you'll find evidence of ancient volcanism on a huge scale, unlike anywhere else on the lunar surface.

Here's a 100% crop showing the Aristarchus plateau - an diamond-shaped block of uplifted terrain dominated by the dazzling crater Aristarchus and the 160 km-long Schröter's Valley:

Easily visible in a small telescope, the valley is the largest and perhaps most dramatic example of a lunar rille, a sinuous channel cut (a very long time ago) by fast-flowing lava.

Follow the terminator south and you come to the Marius Hills, a complex of some 300 volcanic domes and hills that - through a small telescope - look like pimples on the lunar surface:

Lunar Orbiter 2 photographed the complex from an oblique angle, giving an idea of the relative height of the domes, and a few decades later the Japanese SELENE/Kaguya mission discovered an intriguing dark pit in the area (shown here in a high-resolution image taken by the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter).

Incidentally, if you move your mouse over the cropped images you can compare the finished versions with one of the original photos, illustrating the dramatic improvement that image-stacking can make to lunar photography.


See also:
Procellarum: The Biggest Basin?
Shooting the Moon: Lunar Photography with a DSLR and a Small Refractor

Reflex Action

I recall reading somewhere that photographers fall into one of three groups; those who delight in telling you what their camera/lens combination can do (but never get round to doing it themselves), those who delight in telling you what your camera/lens combination can't do, and the rest of us who just get on with it and take the photos.

If you've been following this blog you'll know that I take almost all of my wildlife photos using a small portable telescope mounted directly to a DSLR, thus getting the benefits of an apochromatic lens built to astronomical standards (while also having the option of popping in a diagonal and an eyepiece and using it as a conventional scope). Now I'm the first one to admit that this method has its disadvantages (namely: no autofocus, no aperture control, and no image-stabilisation), but that hasn't stopped some keyboard warriors from confidently reeling off lists of things that such telescopes are supposedly no good for, with "small birds in flight" ranking high on their chart of photographic no-nos.

So with that sage advice in mind, clearly I should give up all thoughts of trying to photograph Sand Martins popping in and out of their burrows like winged champagne corks...

I should also stop entertaining fanciful notions of catching a Swift screaming through the summer sky...

I really should abandon hope of trying to photograph a freewheeling House Martin gearing up for the autumn migration...

And I shouldn't even dream of trying to catch a low-flying Swallow hurtling across a windswept beach...

See also:
More "things in flight" photographed with a Tele Vue-60 and a DSLR.

Birds of East Kent: Black Redstart

This is the first of an occasional series of posts discussing the different birds that can be found in East Kent and how easy (or not) it is to get a decent picture of them.

Black Redstart (male), Broadstairs, February 2010

The Black Redstart seems like a good place to start this series, as it was one of the birds that first tempted me into the realm of wildlife photography. Back in March 2005, after stumbling upon the Planet Thanet website (currently dormant, sadly), I saw a report of a Black Redstart - a bird I'd never knowingly seen before - along the coast not far from where I lived. The next day I wandered down with my binoculars, fully expecting it to have moved on, but it was still there and I got some terrific views of it flitting around. Inevitably, my mind turned to thoughts of what a great photo it would have made. This idea lingered in the back of my head through the summer until finally, a chance encounter with a cuckoo convinced me (to paraphrase Roy Scheider in Jaws) that I was gonna need a bigger lens.

Black Redstart (female), Kingsgate, March 2009

I've seen at least six Black Redstarts since that first encounter in 2005, but most of those sightings have been from a distance, with me standing at the base of a cliff while the bird flies to the top, or me watching from the top of the cliff as it disappears over the side. The few times I've been able to get one within range, it's either been half-hidden in shadow or between me and the sun.

All that changed however, when Barry Hunt's spectacular Eastern Black Redstart arrived in Margate for a week-long stay.

Eastern Black Redstart, Palm Bay, Margate, November 2011

I generally avoid "twitching" (I'd rather get a close-up photo of a common bird than a distant, blurry photo of a rare bird), but when a bird this handsome (and confiding) shows up in your neighbourhood, you've got to make the effort to go and see it. And, as all those who were there will remember, the EBR didn't disappoint, going about its business completely unperturbed by the array of big lenses pointing at it. Now if only I could find a "regular" Black Redstart that was as cooperative, I'd get the photo I've been after since 2005...

See also:
More of my Black Redstart photos on Flickr
Black Redstart (RSPB)
Black Redstart (Birdforum)
UK400 article on Eastern Black Redstarts

HC SVNT DRACONES

As beautiful as the Kent countryside and its surrounding coastline is, you know that wherever you go, you're never too far away from a road or a housing estate or an out-of-town shopping centre. It's still possible to get lost, but you can never get truly lost, and there are certainly no uncharted territories to speak of - the kind that medieval mapmakers used to populate with dragons and other mythical creatures. (Though if there were an uncharted region on the map of South East England, you can be sure that someone from the current government would try and put a runway on it.)

The thought of hundreds of shoppers dropping their bags and running in terror as a dragon wheels in the skies over the Westwood Cross is a strangely comforting one (well, to me at least), but in the absence of fire-breathing dragons, we have to make do with their insect counterparts. And judging by the number of dragonfly photos I've seen on Flickr recently, I think it's safe to say it's been a pretty good summer for dragonflies (and their damselfly cousins).

Over the last few months, at just one modest-sized pond in Canterbury, I've seen dragonflies of all different sizes and colours, including red ones:

...blue ones:

...yellow ones:

...and hawkers with colour schemes worthy of a Formula 1 car:

On reflection, perhaps it's just as well that the dragons' diminutive namesakes don't breath fire, as the above encounter might have burned the end of my telescope.

Looping the Loop and Defying the Ground

Photographing fast-moving targets is about the most difficult thing you can do with a manual-focus scope; by the time you've dialled in the right ISO and exposure compensation - and got the thing in focus - the object of interest is often already receding into the distance. So when I heard there was going to be an air display at the Broadstairs Water Gala last week, I saw it as an excellent opportunity to get some practice in.

The first plane to grace the skies over Viking Bay was an RAF T1 Tucano emblazoned in a special red, white and blue colour scheme for the Queen's Royal Flight. This photo was taken right at the end of the display as Flight Lieutenant Jon Bond performed a low pass right across the bay:

And how do I know who was flying the plane? Well, his name was printed underneath the cockpit:

Next up was the Aerostars display team. This being the Age of Austerity, the council could only afford to hire three out of the six planes, but they still put on a terrific display, and the reduced number actually worked in my favour as there was less opportunity for me to flail around as I tried to figure out which plane I was going to point my camera at.

If you're wondering why one of the planes is blurred in the next photo, it's because they were passing at a relative speed of 400 mph. That I got any kind of shot at all is something of a minor miracle.

The third part of the display, featuring a biplane, was cancelled due to strong crosswinds at Manston, but what we did get to see was great entertainment, and I ended up taking a lot more photos than I had intended to, the best of which you can see on my Flickr page. Of course, now I've got no excuse for not getting a picture of the next rare bird of prey that comes zooming out of nowhere...


See also:
http://www.broadstairswatergala.co.uk/
http://www.raf.mod.uk/tucanodisplayteam/
http://www.aerostars.co.uk/

Marbled Whites

The weather may have suggested otherwise, but we're coming to the end of high summer; that time of year when the birds lie low to recover from the breeding season and - in some cases - ready their wings for the great autumn migration. It's also the time of year when some photographers moan about having nothing to photograph ... as they brush the butterflies away from their lenses.

One highlight of the summer months is the elegantly beautiful Marbled White (Melanargia galathea). Intermediate in size between the small blues and the attention-grabbing Peacocks and Red Admirals, it's easily distinguished by the unmistakable black-and-white checkerboard pattern on its wings. It looks particularly striking when perched on one of its favourite nectar sources, purple knapweed:

The Marbled White isn't rare as British butterflies go, but due to its preference for unimproved grassland you'll almost never see one in a typical garden. Fortunately the person (or persons) responsible for naming it had a finer appreciation for its aesthetic qualities, otherwise it might well have ended up being called the Pied Butterfly.

A closer examination reveals a hint of colour amongst all the black and white - pale blue dots on the underwing:

Of course, a telescope is no substitute for a good quality macro lens when it comes to photographing the small stuff; even with extension tubes in place, the closest I can get to a butterfly and still keep it in focus is about nine feet, but that's no reason not to have a go (and at least I know I'm not disturbing it). And, with the draw-tube racked all the way out, the depth of field is so shallow it's easier to adjust focus simply by rocking backwards and forwards slightly.

The cliff-top wildflower meadow where these photos were taken also plays host to grasshoppers, crickets, Meadow Browns, Gatekeepers, the distinctive Six-spot Burnet and little orange skippers (though I couldn't tell you if they're of the Small or Essex variety).

See more of my Marbled White photos on Flickr