A burrowing owl (Athene cunicularia) perches in a tree to better survey the area surrounding its burrow.

I don’t know precisely what it is, but I sure do have a soft spot for owls. This beautiful burrowing owl was photographed on a recent trip to Florida where I spent eight days in the field with my pal Judylynn Malloch. Judylynn was kind enough to take me to one of her favorite locations in Broward County where burrowing owls have nested in prior years. We spent a very productive afternoon photographing multiple owls, but as daylight began to run short, Judylynn suggested we concentrate on a burrow near a small tree with relatively sparse foliage. She predicted that as sunset approached we might see the owl fly up and perch in the tree.

I’ll confess I was skeptical, having never witnessed such a thing in the dozens of hours I’ve spent observing burrowing owls on the West Coast. Even though I believed Judylynn when she told me she had watched this behavior in the past, I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to have it occur on my one and only visit to this locale. Burrowing owls make wonderful subjects even when they remain on terra firma (as they usually do) but I knew that an image of a burrowing owl perched in a tree had the potential to be something very special. And of course, I had nothing to lose by waiting and watching to see what would transpire.

A burrowing owl with its feet on the ground.

Almost as if following a choreographed routine, at roughly 30 minutes before sunset the little owl flew up into the “designated” tree. The owl was alert, with eyes wide open and constantly looking all around. I moved into position and adjusted my tripod to achieve a pleasing composition of bird and tree and sky. Everything was falling into place except for one thing: the sun was behind a small cloud and the warm, soft light of the early evening was being blocked. Well, I would just have to wait a few minutes for the sun to descend toward the horizon and drop beneath the cloud. After 20 minutes ticked by, with the sun still hidden, it occurred to me that the offending cloud was drifting on the wind towards the western horizon at precisely the rate needed to stay in front of the sun. If something didn’t change soon, the sun was going to set that night without ever illuminating the scene with its direct rays. Fortunately, the sun finally won the race and dipped beneath the cloud, illuminating us with its red-gold light for a precious few minutes before intersecting the horizon. That was all I needed and everything I could have asked for.

An 'I'iwi pauses briefy while feeding on the nectar-rich blossom of the 'ohi'a lehua tree.

A critically endangered Palila feeds on seed pods of the Mamane tree.

On several recent visits to Hawaii’s Big Island, Alison and I have made efforts to see as many of the endemic forest bird species as possible. With significant amounts of driving and hiking we have managed a fair degree of success. So, perhaps with an inflated sense of confidence, on a recent trip to the Big Island I brought my big lens and other assorted camera gear with the goal of capturing some of these tropical gems in photographs. While none of the target birds were particularly cooperative — most of the time either they remained hidden, stayed way up high in the trees, or moved constantly behind a tangle of vegetation — I was fortunate to create a few images that I consider “keepers.”

The bird pictured in the top photograph is an 'I'iwi (Vestiaria coccinea). With its long, decurved bill colored to match its brilliant red feathers, its exotic appearance makes it one of my favorite Hawaiian birds. Like nearly all native Hawaiian birds, the 'I'iwi is under pressure, and the State of Hawaii has classified the 'I'iwi as Endangered due to its numbers declining throughout the island chain. Only on East Maui and Hawaii at elevations above 1250 meters have populations stabilized, primarily because only in these areas can the 'I'iwi escape the mosquito-borne illnesses that have wiped them out at lower elevations. The photo in this post shows the 'I'iwi perched on an emerging blossom of the ohi’a lehua tree (Metrosideros polymorpha). 'I'iwi rely on the nectar from these (and other) blossoms, along with insects, as their major sources of sustenance.

Another endemic species of Hawaiian honeycreeper is shown in the bottom picture: a white, gray, and yellow bird called the Palila (Loxiodes bailleui). We were fortunate to find at least four Palilas feeding near the old ranger’s cabin at Pu’u La’au on Mauna Kea’s Western slope. On the way to this spot, I listened to the song and calls of the Palila on my iPod, which paid off handsomely as I recognized the real-life Palila vocalizations as soon as I hopped out of our rented Jeep. Heading in the direction of the Palila’s calls, I spotted them just 100 yards away from our parking spot. In 2009 the Palila’s conservation status was downgraded from “Endangered” to “Critically Endangered”. Chief among the threats to the Palila’s continued survival is habitat loss. It feeds primarily on the seed pods of the Mamane (Sophora chrysophylla) tree, a tree whose range has been reduced approximately 95% by livestock and grazing mammals introduced for sport hunting.

At least 55 species of Hawaiian honeycreepers are known to have existed, all descendants of a few wayward mainland finches. By the time Europeans arrived in the late 1700′s 18 species had already gone extinct due to impacts from Polynesian settlers. Sadly, only 17 species survive today, as human colonization of Hawaii and the non-native species that accompanied the colonizers have resulted in mass extinctions. Extinctions continue to this day, with the most recent being Maui’s Po'o-uli (Melamprosops phaeosoma) in 2004. On this trip, I was able to photograph (with widely varying degrees of image quality) six of the remaining nine species of native Big Island forest birds including three species of honeycreepers.

A male Pacific Golden-Plover (Pluvialis fulva) pauses briefly while hunting insects in Hawaii.

Pacific Golden-Plovers are an abundant winter visitor to the Hawaiian Island. I photographed this male bird, still in its breeding plumage (note the black breast feathers), in the resort area of Mauna Lani on Hawaii’s Big Island. I felt rather silly lying on my belly on one of the manicured roadside lawns as countless tourists sped by looking at me quizzically, but having hauled my 500mm lens all the way to Hawaii I put my pride aside and went after this handsome plover. It took a few minutes for my subject to become accustomed to my presence, but once he did, he posed cooperatively between short sprints as he searched for tasty insects.

The Gemini Observatory and the Canada–France–Hawaii Telescope glow in the fading light on Mauna Kea's summit.

On our recent trip to the Big Island of Hawaii, Alison and I spent our second-to-last evening on the summit of Mauna Kea to watch and photograph the sunset. At nearly 14,000 feet, we were thousands of feet above a blanket of clouds that covered the lower elevations of the island and extended out to sea and across the channel to Maui.

At this high elevation whatever plant life exists is well-hidden to elude the harsh conditions, and with the loose volcanic soil all around, it’s easy to imagine yourself transported to another planet. The other-worldly architecture of the observatory buildings only adds to the feeling of being in the middle of some extra-terrestrial landscape.

Pictured above are the Gemini Observatory (foreground) and the Canada–France–Hawaii Telescope (background), two of the dozen or so telescopes constructed in this desolate locale to take advantage of the thin atmosphere and typically cloudless skies on Mauna Kea’s summit. Very soon after the sun descended below the horizon, the Gemini’s silver dome began to rotate slowly and the observing slot door retracted, offering us a glimpse of the dome’s interior as shown in posted photograph.

Common goldeneye (Bucephala clangula) drake engages in courtship display.

Yesterday I spent the morning at Shoreline Lake in Mountain View, California with the goal of photographing the Goldeneyes exhibiting their courtship display behaviors. While the level of courtship activity (other than feeding activity) was surprisingly low, I did manage to capture this image of a Common Goldeneye drake pulling off a head toss. Rather than trying to impress a female as one might expect, the pictured male duck struck this pose in response to another male’s encroachment into its feeding area. A male/female pair of Barrow’s Goldeneyes have been reported on the lake within the past week, but if they were still present yesterday they both escaped my notice.

The Pollack's 2011 Jack-O-Lantern.

Halloween night is almost over, but it’s not too late to show off this year’s pumpkin. Alison and I were proud of our squash carving labors, but our Jack-O-Lantern managed to attract fewer than 20 trick-or-treaters to our door. Maybe Cupertino has a small population of candy-crazed youths. Oh well, more bite-sized Snickers for us!

The aspens in California's Eastern Sierra were late to put on their autumn colors in 2011, but when they finally did, the vistas were stunningly beautiful.

Alison and I slipped away on a short road trip after reading reports of some impressive displays of fall color in the the Eastern Sierra. We weren’t disappointed.

This shot was taken in the early evening on October 23rd and was one of the first photographs I took on this trip. As you can see, this aspen grove at Conway Summit (near the town of Lee Vining) radiated the full spectrum of leaf colors from green to yellow to orange to red. Just a few trees had lost their leaves at this point, which along with the few green trees, indicates that the display was precisely at (or perhaps a tiny bit past) its peak.

I’m actually grateful for the few bare trees in the photograph. I think they add an interest to the image and strengthen its composition. Why not leave a comment on the blog or email me and tell me what you think?

A Greater Roadrunner (Geococcyx californianus) raises its crest in a regal pose.

Around mid-morning on my second full day at the Laguna Seca Ranch in Linn, Texas, this Greater Roadrunner approached the water feature with its partner for a drink. After drinking its fill, the roadrunner stood at attention within point-blank range. I quickly added a 1.4X teleconverter to my 500mm lens and concentrated on getting a nice head shot of the bird. The roadrunner cooperated by showing off its profile while intermittently shifting slightly to angle its bill towards the camera. Only a few seconds had passed before it raised its crest as well, allowing me to take this handsome portrait.

I captured this image from the Bulldog Pond blind. Like several of the blinds at LSR, this blind is recessed several feet below ground allowing the photographer to position his or her camera comfortably at ground level.

I went to South Texas for the birds, but this Leopard Frog was a nice surprise.

I took this photograph in early April at the Laguna Seca Ranch in the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas. While the primary objective of my trip was to photograph some of the birds that are found nowhere else in North America except in South Texas, when the bird activity waned, the Leopard Frogs and several species of snakes made good stand-ins.

Using a 500mm lens with a 2X teleconverter to photograph a subject at the minimum focus distance of 15 feet results in a vanishingly small depth of field. For this shot I stopped down two f-stops from the maximum aperture to increase the DOF to a still-tiny 0.2 inches.

Two great horned owlets find new perches as they roam further from their nest tree.

Over a span of nearly three weeks this spring, I regularly visited the Madrone Picnic Area in Stevens Creek County Park in Cupertino, CA to observe and photograph a family of Great Horned Owls. I felt incredibly privileged to spend time in the presence of these engrossing creatures. Even when conditions were poor for photography, the family of owls was fascinating to watch. On most visits, I was the only person there with the owls, and for the most part they went about their business while completely ignoring me. Sometimes I would be joined by birders or other photographers, and on several occasions I had the pleasure of pointing out the owls to picnickers or hikers passing by.

As the weeks passed I was able to witness the three owlets wolfing down meals supplied by their parents, engaging in spirited tussles, testing their wings and taking short flights with awkward and sometimes violent landings. The adults and young owls also kept my attention with their wide range of vocalizations, including screechy begging calls by the owlets, the characteristic hoot-a-hoot, hoo-hoo call of the adults, and a strange guttural barking sound that one of the adults made repeatedly each evening shortly before leaving to hunt.

I have posted a collection of my favorite images of this owl family on my main website. To navigate to the gallery click on the following link: Recent Images. In addition, I have posted several High-Definition video clips of these owls on my YouTube channel which you can find by clicking this link: Untamed Images YouTube Channel.