Heaving Surf, Battling Gulls

Fun with waves and gulls.

I had some downtime in Virginia Beach. I didn't mind. I loved it. I worked at the computer, watching the sea from my fifth-floor window. A fish washed up, still alive and flipping its tail. I fixed the scope on it, knowing it wouldn’t be long before someone took it up on its unexpected sacrifice. In came three great black-backed gulls. One pecked the fish's eyes and brain out even as it flipped in the sand. Two lesser black-backed gulls landed and began trying to get a nip of flesh from their burly cousins' prize. I was fascinated by the size difference in the birds, seen perfectly, side-by-side.

Not hard to tell which one is the lesser black-backed, is it? 

This, like the black skimmer flights, never happens in Ohio. At least to me. I scrambled into coat, hat, and boots, grabbed my camera, and raced down five flights of stairs. Once on the beach, I walked casually, studiously looking off to the side as if the last thing on my mind was capturing some images of feeding gulls that we rarely see in Ohio. Slyly, I watched them out of the corner of my eye as I sidled closer, pretending to be interested in something on the sand. I dropped to my knees and slowly swiveled the camera at them. They kept feeding and squabbling.

Lesser black-backed, sanderling, great black-backed imm; great black-backed adult (in possession).

Mine. Mine mine mine mine mine. Great black-backed adult gives a long call, denoting his ownership of the hapless piscine.

I was thrilled by the backdrop of heaving gray surf and foaming waves. It was clear to me that the adult great black-backed, who had taken the fish from an immature of his species, was going to prevail. Everyone stood and watched, including a little sanderling who spooked around in between the huge gulls, risking his own life for a taste of fish.

From left: great black-backed gull (imm.); lesser black-backed gull; sanderling, great black-backed gull (ad.); ring-billed gull; great black-backed gull (ad.)  Gull gallery.

One of my favorite shots, clearly showing the size discrepancy between lesser and great black-backed gulls. Not to mention an awesome wave curl and the tiny, cheeky sanderling. The way the sanderling is walking to the side reminds me of an Italian street scene.

I’ve come to look at bird photography in some ways as being like painting, with a heavy dose of randomness injected. As I’m shooting, I’m aware that some of the images are going to be cool, but I may not know just what I’ve captured until I view them on the screen. It’s all happening so fast. And then I get to view them, and I see the immense curl of a dirty wave behind the birds, and with a little cropping it all takes on a monumental feeling, and I am happy. Below is my favorite shot from the session. Awesome action, amazing wave.

I was amused to see the smaller gull actually begging from the great black-backed. It would hunch its back feathers, drop its head and toss its bill upward, giving juvenile begging calls. As if Boss Gull would deign to share.

  Here, the adult great black-backed gull is attacking the juvenile of its own species. So chances that it’s going to offer a bite to the lesser black-backed are slim to none. I love this shot, too, wanky framing and all.

In the end, everyone just watched the great black-backed adult pick the fish apart and eventually swallow the remainder whole. Nobody got nuthin’. The lesser black-backed gull and the sanderling might have scored a tiny bite each. The surf makes a splutter of indignation above their heads.

The lesser black-backed departs for City Pier, or points beyond.

Fish gone, my photo salon with the gulls was over. The thing was to see the fish wash up, throw on the coat and shoes and gloves and race down five flights of stairs and across the wide beach to capture it.

It involves serendipity, but it's not luck--it's situational awareness.

It's paying attention to what is being cast before your feet, all the time.

To Michigan!

It's taken me awhile to get to my Upper Peninsula trip that happened at the end of April. I've wanted to, but the lilac was blooming and the asparagus was 'sparaging (still is!! Had another pick this morning!) and the birds were coming through and it seemed like it could wait. It was a trip straight back to winter. A pattern is emerging with festivals I've attended this spring. "It was SO GORGEOUS until you got here! And then it started to (insert noxious precipitation here)! Ha! "

At Paradise, Michigan, the word was snow. Cold also got used. That was OK. I had packed my down parka, hat and thick gloves. I was layered to the max. Even had my jammie bottoms on under my jeans, just as April was turning to May. Having survived a snowy weekend in May 2007 in Chequamegon Bay, WI, I knew the drill. Those Great Lakes--those huge inland seas of ours--are cruel mistresses.

The trip started auspiciously, with an obliging group of gulls. Since it was the first bunch of birds I came across after leaving the Sault Ste. Marie airport, I pulled over. I was birding now.


One of these things is not like the others.
One of these things is not the same.

Even without my Sibley, I knew this lesser black-backed gull when I saw it. The pale-mantled birds in the upper left section of the picture are all herring gulls, the uppermost bird being a second-spring bird. The small pale-mantled bird in the lower right corner is a ring-billed gull. But the small dark-mantled bird with yellow legs and a red spot on its bill is an adult lesser black-backed gull. Whoo-ee. Good start.

As the forest began to close around me, I found a male bufflehead in a dark roadside pool.

He took flight, but only after I was able to admire and capture the oily teal and rose sheen of his puffy head. He looks like he's wearing a powdered wig. Maybe I watched too many episodes of John Adams on HBO.


A female northern harrier made a Cindy House painting as I came out onto Whitefish Point.


Yes. I was finally birding. I can't wait to show you all the wonders of the U.P. Blogger hasn't let me post photos for two days running, but I spent an evening uploading via Flickr. Thank goodness for Flickr. It's a couple of hoops and about five extra clicks per photo, but at least it lets me in when Blogger is having its period. I haven't figured out how to keep the photos from flopping over my template borders. Sorry about that. Later: OK, Kyle, I'm trying your suggestion about adjusting the width to 400 in HTML (it was showing a width of 500). WHOOT! It works! Thank you!

AI fans: I want David Cook to win, but I'm predicting that Lil' Oop Oop will prevail.
Update: I'm so happy to see David Cook win. What a sweetie. Hope he keeps his head in all the hoopla. Hope he can ignore most of what the industry tells him.