Conversation with a Kestrel

You will doubtless remember the red-winged blackbird, singing out his song in backlit water vapor, that so electrified me in this post.

Bryan Holliday made that image.  Here, he's pictured with a storm-tossed wedge-rumped storm petrel in Mesa, Arizona. I do love a good animal selfie!

photo by Muriel Neddermeyer

I've had the pleasure of corresponding with and finally meeting Bryan when my friend Shila and I traveled to Sedona, Arizona, this past July. As I'd figured, he's a gem, and so is his wonderful girlfriend Kim. Though I'd hoped to do a little birding/hiking/hanging out with Bryan, he was all wrapped up in first-day-of-school preparations for his job as an elementary school science teacher, and I was all wrapped up in Sedona Hummingbird Festival stuff. So Shila, Kim, Bryan and I shared a meal in Phoenix and got to know each other a bit, which of course only made us wish we didn't live so very far away. I asked him if he'd send me another photo story for the blog, and here it is!

I love this image of an American kestrel, hanging out on a weathered fencepost. Several things about this image grab me. First, I never knew that the kestrel's little rufous beanie stood up above the heavenly slate-blue brow amd crown feathers. Too dang much. Second, the hearts running in perfect staggery lines down his flank.  They couldn't be polka dots. They had to be perfect, fat little hearts. Third, the kestrel's look of peace and relaxation. No stress, no fear-sleeked feathers here. He's not about to flee; he's just looking back at Bryan, answering the clicks of the shutter with calm composure. This is a bird who's been approached slowly, with respect, who's been politely asked to stay for a little while and has been given the space to grant that request.

Please, click on the photo so you can see the detail I'm referring to. It's a beaut!!

Here's Bryan's story behind this remarkable photo.

After the red-winged blackbird photo titled “Morning Breath” was awarded First Prize in the Birds category of the National Wildlife Federation annual photo contest, I decided to submit it to a few others.  In the spring of 2009, the image caught the attention of Scott Bourne and the Aperture Nature Photography Workshops.  I was chosen as a finalist for the Emerging Photographer of the Year award and invited to Yellowstone National Park for a four day photo adventure, sponsored by Apple and their Aperture Nature Photography Workshops.  Our group consisted of four professionals and us four chosen amateurs.  We spent mornings and evenings shooting, with lunch and workshops during the afternoon to learn Aperture, which was Apple’s software to rival Adobe Photoshop and Lightroom.  

We all had the greatest time traveling, photographing, and getting to know one another.  We all had different photographic styles and interests, challenging each other to look at everything through fresh eyes.  I was the only bird photographer of the amateurs, sharing this passion with Scott Bourne.  Since I was in a new place with a big lens, I had birds on the mind more than anything.  It was early April, so most of the birds were the residents.  We mostly saw black-billed magpies, common ravens, and Canada geese.  Then I began seeing American kestrels.  They were doing their hovering along the roadsides, looking for prey, and perching on the fence posts bordering the ranch lands.  I kept asking our drivers to stop so I could attempt to photograph one, but every time we did the bird flew away.  If you’ve ever tried to photograph a kestrel, you know what I mean.  They would look so beautiful sitting or hovering there, only to fly away as soon as we slowed down.  After two and half days of this, I was frustrated.  As was everyone else since they were sick of stopping!  It became a running joke.  I kept saying that I just needed to find the one bird that was willing to have his photo taken.  

On the third evening, we all set out to photograph the sunset at some gorgeous spot in the mountains.  But the heavy clouds made me think it would probably be a bust.  Luckily, we drove in multiple cars, because there were more kestrels along the way!  The others were done with this kestrel stuff and went on to the sunset spot.  I was determined to find my bird.  The clouds got even heavier gray.  We kept trolling along, a bird here and a bird there.  Then I spied a beautiful male kestrel on a cool wooden post, his colors rich in the overcast light.  We slowed down and crept toward him along the gravel road.  He stayed put.  I rolled down the window and put my big lens on the door frame, ready for a chance.  We crept even closer.  The bird still stayed.  I took a couple shots and he just sat there!  After confirming my exposure, I said “We’re going for gold”.  For the next few minutes the driver followed my explicit directions to move the car, an inch this way, a couple feet that way, turn left 15 degrees, forward a few more inches, until we were practically sideways in the ditch.  I kept shooting, enjoying the chance to fine-tune the perspective of the bird and the background, which are both equally important for the success of the shot.  Everyone in the car was so into it, they got out the recording equipment and began filming me photographing the bird.  It then turned into an interview for Apple, asking me questions about what I was doing and how I was feeling about the situation, all while I was trying to shoot!  And the bird stayed put!!  

It was a crazy hectic few minutes, which came to an end when the other cars from our group came driving back and flushed the kestrel.  They said the sunset shoot was no good and wondered how we did and why we never made it up there.  We just smiled and laughed and showed them the back of my camera.  Cheers and high fives all around!  

ZICK HERE:    This image delights me for many reasons. First, it was hard-won, the result of several days of trying. Second, although they were in Yellowstone National Park, stuffed with charismatic megafauna like grizzlies and elk, Bryan was holding to his modest bird-seeking goal, to the point of being the butt of everyone else's jokes. But as we saw with Morning Breath, holding to his goal is how he gets the best shots. And in holding to his goal, I believe, he's keeping a vision in his mind of what he's after. And here I'd submit that perhaps that vision in Bryan's mind was powerful enough to have been transmitted and received by the kestrel.

What if the kestrel got a picture from Bryan of himself sitting perfectly still and decided to do just that? Crazy, maybe, but who's to say that didn't happen here? Animals and birds don't think in words; they think in pictures. And I've had enough experiences of my own, with Chet Baker and other wild things, to tell me that they can send pictures to us, and receive them as well.  I've found that mind-pictures send particularly well when my mind is clear of all other clutter; when I'm focused completely on my vision. I'm pretty sure, looking at his work, that Bryan focuses down to a laser point. At that point, if my experience is any judge, he's likely to be transmitting messages to his subjects, whether he means to or not. It's fashionable to call someone who sends and receives messages from animals a "whisperer." However it's done, it's clear to me that something metaphysical passes between those who understand animals, and the creatures they work with.

A little hint in his own words: "I kept saying that I just needed to find the one bird that was willing to have his photo taken." One he could get close enough to connect with, perhaps.  

If you're intrigued by this notion, read Thinking in Pictures: My Life with Autism by Temple Grandin. And her pivotal book, Animals in Translation: Using the Mysteries of Autism to Decode Animal Behavior. Temple Grandin is well-known for giving us a picture of autism from the inside, from one whose mind works differently, and, where interpreting animal behavior is concerned, better than most people's. This is a book I should re-read every few years, to stay in better touch with the creatures I'm privileged to live with, and to better understand my fellow humans who have been grazed, touched, or subsumed by autism.

If you’re interested in purchasing this image, please contact Bryan Holliday for the details to make it happen.  He can be reached at bryanhollidayatgmaildotcom. (I've scrambled it to foil the spambots; just substitute a period for the dot, and an @ for the and, and off you go!)

More of Bryan’s work can be seen on his website at www.bryanholliday.com.

Morning Breath

Every once in awhile, you see an image that sticks with you, one you'll never forget. The sailor/nurse smooch on Armistice Day thanks Magpie! comes to mind. There are many others I won't invoke, for not all of them are nice. There is an image that has stuck with me for years, and it's one of my favorite photographs of all time. I never knew who created it, though. Lazy, I guess. I could have Googled and found out. Duh. Imagine my surprise when, in browsing through the photos of a new Facebook friend, I saw That Image. Bryan Holliday had made it. I don't say "taken," and you'll understand why when you read his story.

Every once in a blue moon, when I make a nice photo, I'll hear, "Wow. You must have a really good camera." Every photographer hears this. And most photographers do have a really good camera. My iPhone is a really good camera. So is my old Canon 7D. But it's the brain, the eye, and the mind behind the lens that makes a photo. It's the thought that counts.

Sit back and be humbled, as I was, by the story of how this off-the charts fabulous image was made by a middle school science teacher, who is also blazing his unique way as a visual artist, doing what he was made to do. My humblest thanks to Bryan Holliday for answering the call when I asked him to write it up, that I might share it here. If the image of this man skipping all the way home, lugging a large telephoto, delights you as much as it does me, give him some love in the comments section!

One early spring morning in southwest Michigan, I was teaching a group of students about pond ecology down at the local wetland.  The red-winged blackbirds had just returned and the males were singing and displaying to establish their territories before the females arrived.  It was a calm, chilly morning and we were down there early, just after sunrise.  One male bird flew in fairly close, flared out those gorgeous red epaulets, and sang.  And I saw his breath!  It never crossed my mind that it would be possible to see a bird’s breath, but there it was.  So cool!  He sang again a few more times, each time with his breath puffing in the cold air.  I just stood there, enjoying this rare sight while it lasted.

I decided this needed to be photographed.  So the next day I went down with my camera.  The birds were there, but it wasn’t cold enough.  No breath.  A couple days later, when it was colder, I tried again.  It was windy.  No breath.  I tried again, but this time it was cloudy.  No breath.  Thinking back to the first time, I realized there must be a particular set of conditions that are necessary for this phenomenon to occur.  So I tried more mornings, hoping for a repeat of the conditions.  No luck.  Soon it became too warm, and my attempts would have to wait until the next spring.  I tried again the second spring, with marginal results.  I was able to photograph some breath, but I wasn’t satisfied.  I wanted an image with impact.  Something extraordinary.  Soon the females arrived, nests were built, and babies raised.  So I had to wait again.  

The third spring finally arrived and I could hardly wait for the blackbirds to return.  I carefully watched the weather forecasts to try to predict if there would be breath in the morning.  One night the forecast looked promising, so I set the alarm for early.  The night was short and I was up, ready to go before dawn.  I carried the camera gear out the front door, paused to let out my own breath.  Couldn’t see it.  It wasn’t quite cold enough.  The thoughts of climbing back into my warm bed were very tempting, but knowing that there is never any regret from trying, I went down to the wetland.  As I got close, the air felt colder and heavier, but still no breath of my own.  I kept going.  Once I reached the edge of the wetland, I set up my camera and went in.  The sky was brightening and the birds were singing and calling all around.  I moved ahead to where a male had been singing in the days before, in hopes he would return to his spot for his display.  Almost time for sunrise.  In the last few moments before the sun, the dead-calm air cooled another degree or two, and I could see my breath!  All the conditions were right, I just needed a bird.  I positioned myself right where I needed to be, and he flew in!  For a few glorious minutes, this male red-winged blackbird perched in front of me and sang his heart out.  He flared those patches of red, splayed his tail feathers, and belted out his song.  The sun cracked the horizon and backlit his breath, which hung out in front of him for a split second, allowing me to capture this unbelievable sight.  All 3 notes of his konk-a-reeeeeeeee were there in the pattern of his breath.  He flew off, so I peeked at the back of my camera, and found THE SHOT.  I pulled the memory card out of the camera, stuck it in my pocket, and skipped all the way home.  You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.  

Though I tried for 3 years to photograph this moment, I never once imagined the song of the blackbird could be captured.  I was going for a stream of breath and knew I had a great shot in front of me that morning.  But realizing the whole song was visible in his breath put the image on a whole different level for me.  I titled this image “Morning Breath” and it has been used in various ornithology lectures in conjunction with sonograms and audio recordings to help students study birdsong.  To this day it is widely considered to be the only photograph in existence that shows the song of a bird.

Zick: !!!!!!!!! A VISUAL SONOGRAM IN THE SPRING AIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you’re interested in purchasing this award-winning image, please contact Bryan Holliday for the details to make it happen.  He can be reached at bryanhollidayatgmaildotcom. 

Zick: Address deliberately scrambled to foil cruising spambots. Substitute @ for at and a . for dot and you're good to go.

You can see more of Bryan's work at www.bryanholliday.com