The autumn leaves are like the sand in an hourglass slowly counting down to that fateful day when I can visit my Thinking Chair no more. I have spent a great deal of time acclimating myself to the cold and I can comfortably sit for two hours in 40-degree temperatures in an outfit of “regular” clothes. The only additional article of clothing that I bring to keep myself comfortable is a pair of woolen finger-less gloves that allow me to continue using my camera and writing in my notebook.
Clear mornings with no wind are still a delight to experience at the edge of my meadow and I have noticed a definite change in the behavior of the “regulars” who visit me. The number of chickadees has been in constant flux as the autumn drives the younger birds to disperse across the landscape and join new flocks for the winter.
I have also noticed a distinct change in attitude from the white-breasted nuthatches. Drawn to my location by the clamor of the chickadees, the nuthatches have become ever more comfortable with me and last weekend a barrier of trust was broken and the nuthatches now land on my head with the same frequency as the chickadees. What a treat that is!
I would visit the Thinking Chair just to enjoy the company of these little birds, but I am still driven by my desire to see (and photograph) something new. I never know what this might be, but that is what makes the entire endeavor so much fun. So, while I sat quietly with chickadees and nuthatches literally crawling all over me, I patiently waited to see if this was going to be a morning when something new arrived. The incredible level of activity of the chickadees, titmice, nuthatches and sparrows made it a bit of a challenge to pick out something different, but an hour after I sat down I succeeded.
Off to my left I caught sight of a movement that just didn’t fit in with rest of the commotion around me. More delicate and moth-like than the movements of any of the other birds, this particular individual just had a different look about it. I raised my large lens to get a look at this stranger and as I did so a chickadee landed on my right wrist. It is the right hand that operates the shutter button, so at the time this little bird was about 6 inches from my right eye. Undeterred, I gently applied pressure to the shutter to activate the camera’s auto focus while my little intern curiously watched what I was doing. As the image through the viewfinder cleared I found my self quietly saying, ”Oooooo!”
The bird was a yellow-rumped warbler (Setophagacoronata) and though it was too far away for a good photo I still took one to document the bird’s presence. What I really needed was for this bird to wander over to the small silky dogwood bush that was right in front of me where the bird could pose for a portrait with the golden grasses of the meadow serving as a beautiful blurred out background.
The Photo Gods must have been watching me closely and must have been so impressed with my patience and diligence that one of them (probably Iso) nudged the little warbler in my direction. Thus is was that only three minutes after my thought about the dogwood I had the warbler perched atop the dry flowers of a goldenrod plant that was right next to the dogwood. The settings on my camera had already been precisely tuned for just this eventuality and then Nikonus rewarded me with the photo you see today. A fall-plumage yellow-rumped warbler reaching out for a tiny, hidden insect and then righting itself with a flap of its wings. Oooooo!
The plumage of this species is quite different in the spring and fall. Males are a dazzling contrast of black and white with several splashes of yellow to dazzle the eye. The fall plumage (seen in this photo) shows a more sedate combination of browns. There is still a somewhat reduced patch of yellow on the flank and in this particular photo you can see a hint of the yellow rump for which the species is named. The patch of yellow I speak of is located on the top of the tail right near the very last wing feather seems to join in with the body feathers. It’s subtle, but it is there.
I couldn’t resist sharing this photo with you for two reasons. First, I think it is spectacularly gorgeous and I decided to indulge myself. Second, this may be the last photo from the Thinking Chair for this year. I am out of town next weekend and before you know it we will already be in November. Wind, rain and cold temperatures may soon conspire to keep me inside and I will then shift gears and start watching my feeders intently.
No matter where I find myself, however, there will always be something interesting to discuss. At the moment, I am thinking that it might be fun to describe the spectacle that occurred when my beautiful wife, Susan, offered to help me move firewood. Stay tuned for that one!
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 25 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more in formation visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or head over to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.