There is wisdom in the old saying, “Make hay while the sun shines.” The basic idea is that when conditions are good, make the most of them. This is true with many aspects of human life, but in my particular situation the wisdom applies to photography. The first week of October was astounding. The temperature was warm every day, the sky was blue every day, and the sun was bright every day; perfect conditions for photography. I would have been a fool to ignore such ideal conditions.
That being said, there did come a point when I was starting to question my behavior. One day seemed to be a carbon copy of the previous day, but there was always that tantalizing notion that a bird would zip through the yard and I would miss it. I realize that I can’t be everywhere at once, nor can I look in more that one direction at any given moment, but I thought that sitting in the Thinking Chair might eventually pay a dividend. So, I bundled up against the chill of each morning and headed down day after day. Eventually, it all paid off on a bright Sunday morning that felt particularly unremarkable.
I was a little more than an hour into the day’s session when I happened to randomly sweep my gaze to the left. The term “swivel head” was used in World War II to describe the constant scanning of the environment by fighter pilots. For them, this behavior meant the difference between life and death. For a modern day photographer the term is equally appropriate, though perhaps not quite as fundamental to one’s actual survival. You have to keep sweeping the landscape for interesting things, lest you miss something amazing.
Anyway, I was in the middle of one of these random sweeps when I noticed a movement in the brush to my left. It was a bird, it was brown, and it had a white belly with dark streaks. There was a brown thrasher that had been hanging around the meadow and this was my initial identification. But then I remembered my own advice about looking carefully at each and every bird in sight. So up came the big lens and – BAM – I was stunned to find myself looking directly at a gorgeous adult fox sparrow (Passerella iliaca).
This was clearly a test by the photo gods. Nikonus and Iso had noticed my dedication and they rewarded me with an “X-Factor” species for my list. However, as is so typical of my interactions with the gods, there was still a test of skill involved in the receipt of the reward. The bird was perched in a shrubbery where it was screened by branches and twigs. I did my best to move my own position enough to get a clear shot of the bird’s eye and I eventually go a modrately decent photo.
Then, as if it had received a signal from Nikonus himself, the bird flew up out of the shrubs and onto the bare branch of a dead tree that stands right in the very center of my view from the Thinking Chair. Somehow, the bird just sat there and I took so many photos that my camera almost melted. Then, as if it had received one final signal, the bird looked at me and then flew off to the right; not to return. The total encounter with the fox sparrow lasted for 67 seconds, while the “perfect pose” was maintained for only 26 seconds. However, I was ready, I got the photo, and I made Nikonus proud! At least I hope so.
The fox sparrow is one of those species that spends minimal time in our area as it migrates north to Canada in the spring and then south to the Southeastern United States for the winter. Here in Massachusetts we are on the northernmost edge of the winter range, but that doesn’t make the birds particularly abundant. According to the Massachusetts Audubon Society, the fox sparrow is described as “very infrequent” from November to March. This is a bird that makes a quick pit stop before moving on again and because of the brevity of their seasonal stay, fox sparrows are easily missed. I went through my records and discovered that I saw one back in the spring of 2010, and then another one in the spring of 2019. To put that in perspective, when I last saw a fox sparrow the term COVID-19 had never been uttered.
Many of the photos of fox sparrows in my collection feature the birds on my deck, which somehow seems a little less-than-authentic. I am very pleased with this week’s photo because the bird is in a completely natural setting that is appropriate to its habitat preferences. These birds like thickets and are often seen at forest edges where they scratch the ground in the hopes of uncovering seeds. In this case, I went out of my way to put myself in the right place, hour after hour and day after day, and I was eventually rewarded with a beauty of a photo. That’s a lot of hay and I get to share it with you.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 28 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 information visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.