Here is a collection of 90 wildlife photos taken during June-September, 2025. I picked images that appealed to me for a variety of reasons. We have a lot of wild creatures here.
Rabbits
Long legs, bodies, and ears characterize the Black-tailed Jackrabbit. Even the black tail is long. They are fast; I often see just a glimpse of movement as they disappear into the sagebrush.
The Desert Cottontail is more compact and has eyes that seem too big for its head. Here is one at the Conservation Open Space Area.
Cottontail below was at Mono Lake. Looks very young.
Cottontails below were at Airport Road.
American Beaver
The beaver drags its tail, leaving wavy marks on the dirt roads that we walk. For 20 years I mistakenly thought these were rare creatures, found only on some mountain streams. I was wrong. They are common, but elusive. On our local walks I see a beaver once a year. The beaver below was swimming in the Owens River, upstream from the Pleasant Valley Reservoir.
Coyote
They always look skinny. If you live by chasing rabbits, being fit and thin is advantageous.
Stripped Skunk
Usually presents as a crushed and pungent mess at the edge of a road. Fun to watch when seen alive.
Are pieces of grass stuck to its body? Or could they be porcupine spines? I cannot tell.
Chipmunk
These two animals were chasing each other in Lee Vining Canyon. I think they are Lodgepole Chipmunks. They would periodically stop for one second of sex, then run on.
Common Merganser
Mergansers are often found at the Pleasant Valley Reservoir. I think the birds in the photos below are all juveniles, born this Spring.
American White Pelican
A nine foot wingspan. This Pelican was at Pleasant Valley Reservoir.
California Gull
This bird was at Mono Lake, where thousands of gulls gather to mate and raise their young on islands.
Spotted Sandpiper
A young Spotted Sandpiper cruises over Pleasant Valley Reservoir.
Great Blue Heron
I have more photographs of this bird species than any other. They are colorful, common, and easy to photograph.
Herons near Airport Road.
A Heron shows its balancing talent along Warm Springs Road.
When Herons fly, they usually curl their neck. But the bird below, at Buckley Ponds, is like a runner straining to get part of their head over the finish line first.
Heron 3
The next 3 photos are all from Pleasant Valley Reservoir, where subdued light made the feather patterns stand out.
Note the mosquitos in the next photo.
Black-crowned Night Heron
About once a year I see a Black-crowned Night Heron. The bird below, on Bishop Creek Canal, is too young to have the black head color.
Note mosquitos
An adult bird with a black crown flew past in Lee Vining Canyon.
California Quail
A male posed north of Bishop.
Chukar
These are game birds introduced from Asia. This pair was at Pleasant Valley Reservoir.
Turkey Vulture
This bird locates food by detecting ethyl mercaptan, a gas released by decaying flesh. It can follow a gas plume back to a rotting carcass that is miles away. Using smell, the vulture can locate carrion that is hidden by snow or dense foliage.
A Vulture on Airport Road.
A TV at the Reservoir.
Northern Harrier
A female Harrier cruises past me on Airport Road.
Sharp-shinned Hawk
This raptor was at the Conservation Open Space Area near downtown Bishop.
Red-shouldered Hawk
This medium-sized hawk was at the Reservoir.
When this bird lands, it slows down by flaring its wings. Near the end of each wing, the primary feathers are partly white so that it looks as if the wings have a clear “window.” You have to use your imagination to think of these white areas as windows; they look like white bands to me. The next 3 photos all show these white “windows.” The first photo was taken at the Pleasant Valley Reservoir.
Next two photos from the Conservation Open Space Area.
Swainson’s Hawk
The Swainson’s below is probably a juvenile in its second year. It appeared in June and used a perch on Warm Springs Road for several weeks.
On June 19, a Western Kingbird harassed the Hawk. In the first photo the Hawk turns, in the second the Hawk ducks and almost flies away, in the third the Hawk settles down as the Kingbird flies past.
A month later, on July 19, a Northern Mockingbird harasses the same Hawk.
Finally, a peaceful moment.
Red-tailed Hawk
Red-tails are the most common hawk that I see near Bishop. They are big, which makes them easy to spot. If you see one or two birds circling high up on thermals, they are probably Red-tails. Young Red-tails don’t have red tails, as shown below in a photo from Warm Springs Road. This bird has bands on both legs; green plastic on the left leg, silver metal on the right. The left foot rests on a fragile branch and the right foot is balanced on one toe. This young bird is being a bit careless.
Then the bird literally fell off its perch. In the first photo, the fragile branch under the left foot gave way. The Hawk used its wings to stay up and both legs are on the stronger branch.
In the next 4 pictures, the bird struggles to get both feet onto the sturdy branch. It then looks around, probably thinking: “Wow, that was embarrassing. I hope no one saw me do that.”
On Sunland Drive a mature bird posed. Note the pattern of darker feathers across the middle of the bird; an avian cummerbund.
The next Red-tail on Warm Springs Rd has different coloration, but a similar cummerbund.
The Red-tail below, a juvenile, has almost no red in the tail.
American Kestrel
This small raptor is common in the Bishop area. After the Red-tail, I think this is our most common raptor. They are small birds, but if you look for their compact shape on top of small trees, they are there to be found. The first three photos show a male landing on a bare tree at the Buckley Ponds.
The shape and posture below are typical for this bird. A round ball. The tail sticks out and down, as if this is a capitol letter Q. With an added lump formed by the head.
In the next photo, a Kestrel takes off at Pleasant Valley Reservoir. The tail is out of sight, so he looks as if he forgot his pants.
Peregrine Falcon
Not common, but impressive when it appears. I show two photos taken five days apart in June. The first shows a Peregrine in flight at Bishop Creek Canal.
Below, a Peregrine displays its “executioner’s hood” on Warm Springs road. These photos may show the same bird.
Great Horned Owl
Two of these owls were on a dirt road north of Dixon Lane.
The next photo shows an unusual pose. This owl may be looking for its partner.
Doves
The Mourning Dove was first recorded in Inyo County in 1890. It was the dove for a century. But in the last two decades, counts have plunged. The photo below shows the blue eye ring and black spots on the feathers.
The Eurasian Collared Dove appeared in Inyo in 2002, the same year I arrived. It is now the most common Dove in Inyo. Photo below shows the collar on the back of the neck.
Northern Flicker
This woodpecker is common, colorful, and noisy. In the first photo the female is above. A male, with his red mustache, is taking off near Dixon Lane.
The next image shows a male at the Conservation Open Space Area.
The last photo shows a male in my neighbor’s yard.
Phoebe
The Say’s Phoebe has subtle colors. Bird below was at Mono Lake.
Next Phoebe is at Bishop Creek Canal.
Below, a mother feeds her child. The youngster looks big enough to find his own meal. But what mother would miss the chance to feed her child; “Come on darling, finish your peas.”
The Black Phoebe strikes a formal look in a tuxedo. Both shots at the Reservoir.
Western Bluebird
The colors of the adult male look unreal. Photo from Airport Road.
At the Conservation Open Space Area, a juvenile Western Bluebird displays softer colors and many spots on chest. Wing edges are flashy.
American Robin
Eating a caterpillar at Bishop Creek Canal.
House Wren
This Wren was at Convict Lake.
Green-tailed Towhee
Convict Lake is home to Green-tailed Towhees. In next six photos, a mature Towhee hops and swaggers.
At far end of the lake, a juvenile Towhee shows streaks, no red crown, brown-green feathers.
Savannah Sparrow
Savannah feeds at Airport Road. Note yellow eyebrow streak.
House Finch
This bird was feeding at the Conservation Open Space Area. Bird looks like it fell into a paint bucket.
Brewer’s Blackbird
The females are muted, the yellow-eyed males are garish. These pictures are from Mono Lake. To see these birds up close, sit at the tables in front of Schat’s Bakery. Stay alert or they will grab your pastry.
This blog shows photos of sunrise on the peaks near Mt Whitney (14,505 feet), the tallest US summit outside of Alaska. Some tourist spots offer “light shows” using electric lights on natural features. The eastern Sierra has a free light show every morning.
The Sierra Nevada extends north-south for 400 miles. It separates California’s Great Central Valley from the Great Basin. No road crosses the range from Sherman Pass Road in the south to Yosemite’s Highway 120 in the north; the Pacific Crest Trail between these roads is 240 miles long. Near my home, the Sierra crest is generally higher than 13,000 feet, a steep wall over 150 miles long.
Roberta and I sometimes photograph the sunrise on the Sierra. I pick locations on the east side of the Owens Valley, 8 to 15 miles from the nearest Sierra summits. We get up at 4 am, eat, fill a thermos with coffee, and head out. We arrive in the dark and sit in the car, letting our eyes adjust and getting caffeinated. Then I get out, bundled in warm cloths, and use a headlamp to set up two cameras on tripods in the sagebrush. I get back into the car to warm up.
In morning twilight the peaks become brighter for half an hour. The range has a subdued look as I start taking pictures. Then sunlight reaches the summits around 6:30 AM and for half an hour the light moves down the slopes to the Valley floor. This early light is often tinged with red. By 8 AM the best colors are gone. We pack up the cameras and head home.
The air is usually calm and clear in early morning, so photographs have a lot of detail despite distances up to 15 miles. I used telephoto lenses equivalent to full-frame (35mm) focal lengths of 75 to 600mm. Consequently the images are “magnified” about 2 to 12 times, compared with the view without a camera. Cropping on the computer doubles the magnification of some pictures. Camera exposure times range from 3 seconds during twilight to 1/1000 second when the sun is fully up.
All photos in this post were taken from a spot on highway 136, south-east of the town of Lone Pine, at elevation 3600 ft. They were taken on March 1, 2023, February 24, 2024, and April 1, 2024. I’ve sorted them into groups from south to north, then ordered them by date and then by time, so you see images from twilight to full sun for each group of peaks on each day.
Panoramic Photographs
In the days of film, it was a big deal to take photos that could be stitched together into a wide panorama. This is easy with digital photos. You can move your camera from left to right and take multiple pictures that are joined into a single, wide shot, with lots of detail. This can be done within the camera or by taking several photos and combining them in software. To orient you to the peaks near Mt Whitney, below is a panoramic image that extends from Mt Langley (14,042 feet) on the left to Lone Pine Peak (12,944 feet) on the right. The smaller rocky summits in the foreground, still in shadow, are the Alabama Hills.
3/7/23. 6:18 AM.
Next you can see summits from Lone Pine Peak to Tunnabora. Whitney is labeled; its enormous east face is in sunlight.
3/7/23. 6:17 AM.
Next I show all these peaks, from the Corcoran group to Carillon.
4/1/24. 6:48 AM
Mt Langley
I’ll start at the southern end of this group. To the south of the peaks I’ve already shown, is the road to Cottonwood Lakes. It switchbacks up from 3500 feet to over 10,000 feet. After big rain storms, parts this road may be covered in rocks and sand; sometimes sections of the road are washed away.
3/7/23. 6:09 AM
Next is Mt Langley (14,042 ft).
3/7/23. 6:04 AM
3/7/23. 6:12 AM
3/7/23. 6:32 AM
Looking a bit further north, the next photo shows Langley and the summits near Corcoran.
3/7/23. 6:32 AM
Mt Corcoran and Nearby Peaks
Mt Corcoran is a long ridge with several summits. The branches of Tuttle Creek bracket this collection of peaks.
3/7/23. 5:51 AM
3/7/23. 6:04 AM
3/7/23. 6:12 AM
3/7/23. 6:14 AM
3/7/23. 6:24 AM
A closer look at Peak 4151 meters.
3/7/23. 6:25 AM
Details of Sharktooth, Corcoran, and LeConte (13,960 feet)
3/7/23. 6:28 AM
3/7/23. 6:32 AM
In the next photo, Langley and the Corcoran group have subdued colors due to clouds.
2/24/24. 6:46 AM
Next we see sunrise on April 1, 2024. The colors change quickly as the sun comes up.
4/1/24. 6:34 AM
4/1/24. 6:39 AM.
4/1/24. 6:47 AM.
4/1/24. 6:55 AM.
A close-up of Sharktooth, Corcoran, and LeConte.
4/1/24. 7:04 AM.
Peak 4151 meters (left) and Sharktooth (right)
4/1/24. 7:04 AM.
4/1/24. 7:05 AM.
Lone Pine Peak
Because Lone Pine Peak is so much closer to the town of Lone Pine, it looks bigger than Whitney. It is slightly lower than 13,000 feet, lower than the other summits in this blog. Additional, higher summits (Mt Mallory and Mt Irvine) are blocked from view behind this peak.
3/7/23. 6:03 AM.
3/7/23. 6:15 AM.
3/7/23. 6:24 AM.
A closer view of the south face of Lone Pine Peak: a 3,000 foot wall with many climbing routes.
3/7/23. 6:29 AM.
3/7/23. 6:32 AM.
Another sunrise on 4/1/24.
4/1/24. 6:34 AM.
4/1/24. 6:46 AM.
4/1/24. 6:45 AM.
Mount Whitney
My first climb of Whitney was in 1971. I drove to Lone Pine and picked up a permit for the Mountaineer’s Route in May. My climbing partner and I saw no one on our climb and met only four people on the summit. But that ship has sailed. Because this is the tallest US summit aside from peaks in Alaska, the demand for permits has surged in the last 25 years. Most people use the trail to the top; 11 miles with 6000 feet of uphill. For hiking permits during the period May 1 to November 1, people must now enter a lottery in February. There are 100 permit spots each day for people who want to try to reach the summit without camping, 60 spots for people willing to camp overnight along the trail. In 2023 there were 26,219 permit applications for about 115,000 people; 27% of the applications were granted, so about 31,000 individuals had permit spots to go up Whitney. Some of these people never went and many others failed to reach the top; it is estimated that about 10,000 people reach the summit each year.
You cannot see the trail to the summit in photos from the valley. The trail is hidden behind Lone Pine Peak and behind Whitney’s long south ridge.
3/7/23. 5:56 AM.
3/7/23. 6:15 AM.
3/7/23. 6:18 AM.
3/7/23. 6:24 AM.
Whitney’s east face has routes popular with climbers. To the left of the summit you can see Keeler Needle (14,240 feet). Crooks Peak (14,080 feet) is further left.
3/7/23. 6:29 AM.
In the photo below, Crooks Peak, Keeler Needle, Mt Whitney, and Mt Russell are all taller than 14,000 feet. Lone Pine Peak on the left looks taller, because it is closer, but it is actually shorter than 13,000 feet.
3/7/23. 6:33 AM.
2/24/24. 6:26 AM.
2/24/24. 6:46 AM.
Below, see how much the light changes in 1 minute, from 6:35 to 6:36 AM.
4/1/24. 6:35 AM.
4/1/24. 6:36 AM.
4/1/24. 6:39 AM.
4/1/24. 6:46 AM.
4/1/24. 6:54 AM.
The photo below shows Crooks Peak, Keeler Needle, and Whitney’s east face. I have marked two climbing routes on the photo. In May of 1971 I climbed Whitney via the Mountaineer’s Route. That route goes up a long snow gully, then turns left and out of sight to climb icy rocks to the top. In June of ’81, I climbed the East Face Route.
4/1/24. 7:03 AM.
Peaks North of Whitney
Below, the moon sets behind Mt Carillon (13,552 feet), with Mt Russell left of the moon.
3/7/23. 5:54 AM.
3/7/23. 6:02 AM.
Below you can see Russell, Carillon, and Tunnabora.
Another moonset.
2/24/24. 6:05 AM.
In the lower part of the photo below you can see fir trees covered in ice.
4/1/24. 6:54 AM.
The deep canyon that slopes from lower right to upper left, in the next picture, contains Lone Pine Creek. It also contains the road to Whitney Portal, the trailhead used for the hike to the summit. You can see part of the road in the lower right of the photo.
4/1/24. 7:02 AM
Farther north is Mt Williamson (14,375), California’s second highest peak.
4/1/24. 7:01 AM
My Climbs on Whitney
I first climbed Whitney in May of 1971, using the Mountaineer’s Route. John Muir made the first ascent of this route in 1873.
I climbed Whitney again in June of 1981, using the East Face Route. Before the climb I was lounging near my tent at Iceberg Lake, reading Wilderness and the American Mind by Roderick Nash. Another climber strolled up to me and I felt miffed that my reading was interrupted. That stranger was Bart O’Brien and soon we were discussing Nash’s book and other areas of interest that we shared. We went on to become close friends. We’ve done more than 160 climbs together on 4 continents.
In 1982, Roberta decided to climb Whitney. We did a 6-day hike, first up the trail to Consultation Lake, then over Arc Pass to Rock Creek. We used the PCT to reach Guitar Lake on Whitney’s west side. On September 12 we reached the summit before anyone else, then we descended the usual trail.
In January 1988, Leni Reeves and I climbed Whitney. Due to snow, we had to park at 6500 feet on the approach road. We took 2 days to walk and snowshoe to a camp above Consultation Lake. After a rest day, we climbed up a gully north of the switchbacks, then followed the trail to the top. A line of black clouds approached as we raced back to camp. High winds damaged our tent that night. After 4am we had to sit up and use our backs to brace the tent wall against the storm winds. At first light we packed up and hiked down to the car. We met no one else on this climb.
Bishop lies at 4000 feet in the sagebrush ocean. The landscape hosts Giant Sagebrush, Rabbitbrush, Sulfur Buckwheat, and other drought-tolerant plants. Precipitation averages 5 inches a year. Despite being a desert town, the nearby Sierra Nevada collects snow and rain, which fills local creeks and canals. We have ponds in the City Park and the Conservation Open Space Area. Within a ten-mile radius is the Pleasant Valley Reservoir, the Buckley Ponds, and Klondike Lake. Because of this water, we have waterfowl; Swans, geese, and ducks. Most birds that migrate via the Pacific Flyway pass west of the Sierra, over California’s great Central Valley. But a sliver of this migration passes on the east side of the Sierra, over the Owens Valley. This blog post contains pictures of twenty waterfowl species that I photographed within ten miles of Bishop in the last 5 years.
What are waterfowl? This is a North American term applied to swans, geese, and ducks. They have webbed feet and a spatula-like bill. In Britain, this group is generally called wildfowl. Another characteristic is that people think of these birds as food. They are hunted and eaten. Their down feathers are used in pillows.
I’ve sorted these birds into a few tribes. Within each tribe, I ordered them from heaviest to lightest and provide average weight information from Richard Crossley’s guide: Crossley R, Baicich P, Barry J. The Crossley ID Guide: Waterfowl. West Cape May, New Jersey: Crossley Books; 2017. I also give the seasons during which each bird is most likely to be seen, using data from Heindel TS, Heindel JA. Birds of Inyo County, California, Including Death Valley National Park. Camarillo, CA: Western Field Ornithologists; 2023.
Swans
1. Tundra Swan – 15 lb. Winter.
These big birds breed on the tundra of northern Canada. A few winter near Bishop. The photo below was taken at a small pond near Klondike Lake. The Swan’s foot looks like a scuba diver’s flipper. The blurry bird in the foreground is a Greater White-fronted Goose; it looks tiny compared with the Swan.
In the air, you can see that the belly feathers are stained by the muddy water.
The Swan below was on the Buckley Ponds in December. Note the yellow spot at the base on the bill, in front of the eye. This marking is diagnostic.
Geese
2. Canada Goose – 10 lb. Fall/Winter.
Honking flocks of geese announce the arrival of fall. One of my favorite sounds. The photos below were all taken from Airport Road south of Line Street. These birds are found almost everywhere in Canada and the US.
In December, a flock passes in front of the Wheeler Crest.
The remaining photos were taken in March.
This is a heavy bird; see below.
Goose honks at a Red-winged Blackbird.
3. Snow Goose – 6 lb. Fall/Winter.
Snow Geese often mingle in the air or on the ground with both Canada Geese and Greater White-fronted Geese. The pictures below were taken in winter along Airport Road.
A mixed flock of Greater White-fronted (dark) and Snow Geese (white).
Feeding near Airport Road.
Perching Ducks
This tribe consists of Wood Ducks and Muscovy Ducks; only the former visit Bishop. They are surface-feeding, woodland birds with sharp claws on their toes. They perch and nest in tree cavities.
5. Wood Duck – 1.3 lb. All year.
Seeing a duck in a tree seems like a prank. The first three photos were taken on Gus Cashbaugh Lane.
The next two pictures were taken at the Conservation Space Open Area (COSA). The plumage of the male Wood-Duck is garish or gorgeous, depending on your taste.
Dabbling Ducks (Puddle ducks)
Dabblers feed on or near the surface. They often tip themselves up so their butts are in the air while their heads are submerged. Their feet are located in a mid-position under their bodies, so they can walk about on land. Powerful wings let them explode almost vertically from the water into the air. To lift off, the first wing-beat of a Mallard usually pushes on the surface of the water. I find it hard to photograph dabbler take-offs because they are so fast. The outspread wings are decorated with a rectangular patch of colored feathers, called the speculum. This area of color is often bordered by a white band.
6. Mallard – 2.6 lb. All year.
The Mallard is the “Make Way for Ducklings” duck. To see this bird, visit the Bishop City Park. Or almost any place with water. They sometimes stroll across highway 395, our Main Street. A friend had to wait in traffic when a Mallard-pair copulated on the highway. Mallards are so common that I have more pictures of this bird than all other ducks combined. I picked over a dozen Mallard photos for this blog.
Two females and a male in the air in October. Note the blue speculum, bordered front and back by a white band.
Mallards waking up at Pleasant Valley Reservoir, November.
Mallards on ice, Conservation Open Space Area, December.
Dinner on Christmas day, Reservoir.
This bird may seem ordinary, because we are so familiar with them. But are striking creatures. COSA in January.
Flying past the Sierra, February.
Nap in City Park, March.
Strolling at the COSA, March.
Preening at City Park, April.
Make way for you-know-what at Buckley Ponds, May. Awww, mira que cute.
Mom and child, Reservoir. May.
Mother and teenagers, July. Reservoir.
Airborn at Reservoir. Males are in their “eclipse” (non-breeding) plumage, so males and females look similar. August.
Flying over the Reservoir, August.
7. Northern Pintail 2.1 lb. Spring & Fall.
I have only one photo of this bird, standing on ice at Buckley Ponds.
8. Gadwall – 2 lb. All year.
Not colorful, but delicate feather patterns. First two photos taken on Airport Road.
Shovelers crack me up. They look like they are wearing a fake nose.
In the air they look strikingly colorful. Next 4 photos all from the Reservoir.
When landing on water, the tails touch first, then the feet. The birds ski on this 3-point platform for a while, then settle on the water.
11. Cinnamon Teal – 0.9 lb. Spring & Fall.
Three different Teal species visit Bishop. Cinnamon Teals are the most common. In flight their colors seem to change with their position and the angle of the sun.
In the water or on land, the plumage is striking.
12. Blue-winged Teal – 0.9 lb. Spring & Fall.
This bird has a large blue area on the wing, plus a green speculum, and a wedge of white. If you compare this with the wings of Northern Shovelers, shown earlier, you can see the same pattern.
Teals are all small ducks, weighing less than a pound. The photo below shows a diminutive Green-winged Teal with a massive female Mallard.
Below, a small Green-winged Teal swims with male Mallards at the Reservoir.
The next 3 photos all show Green-winged Teals at the Reservoir in winter.
Diving Ducks (Bay Ducks)
This group of ducks can dive to 20 feet for food. Their powerful legs are positioned to the rear, so they swim well underwater, but have trouble walking. It is hard for them to take wing, as their bodies are heavy compared with the surface areas of their wings. To get into the air, they run on the surface, pushing on the water with their feet. Take-off requires a long runway and a lot of splashing. These birds have no speculum on the wings.
14. Merganser – 3.2 lb. Fall/Winter.
Mergansers have a long bill with a hook at the end. I find it hard to think of them as ducks, as they lack the spatula-shaped bill. In flight, they look long and narrow. Below, a fleet of Mergansers cruises on the Buckley Ponds. Males have sleek dark heads, females have messy red “hair.”
At City Park, a heavy Merganser bullies a Mallard. Both birds wear similar socks and shoes. Later the Merganser poses alone.
Male Mergansers patrol the Ponds. Adult females look similar to juveniles of both sexes.
Scenes at the Reservoir.
15. Canvasback – 2.7 lb. Fall/Winter.
A big duck. Below are 4 views at the Ponds, all in winter.
16. Redhead – 2.3 lb. Spring/Summer/Fall.
Color pattern similar to a Canvasback. Three photos from the Ponds in March.
17. Lesser Scaup – 1.7 lb. Fall/Winter/Spring.
Iridescent head, delicate feather pattern on back. Visits the Reservoir in winter.
This bird has the wrong name. The ring on the bill is obvious. The ring on the neck is obscure. This should be called the ring-billed duck.
A male at the City Park looks fierce when seen head on.
A female at the Park. She looks placid as she demonstrates that water rolls off a duck’s back.
At the Reservoir, a group of Ring-necked Ducks thrashes about as they try to take off.
Three images taken at the COSA. In the last photo you can see the ring on the neck.
19. Ruddy – 1.3 lb. All year.
These are called stiff-tailed ducks, as their tail feathers stick up. On a cold morning they sleep in, heads tucked away, tails pointed up. I think they look like a bowl of noodles with chop sticks inserted. Or a basket of yarn with knitting needles. The three photos below were taken in winter. First at the Reservoir, last two at the Ponds. Note the blue bill.
20. Bufflehead – 0.9 lb. Fall/Winter/Spring.
Small diving duck. Head iridescent in sunlight, black and white in shade. First 4 photos taken at the Reservoir.
Below you can see how a diving duck uses its feet to take off.
Last photo shows what a diving duck does to eat; it dives.
The Osprey is ubiquitous. They aren’t particularly common, but they are found on 6 continents. There are Ospreys in every state. If there is a pond, ocean, lake, stream, or river, an Osprey may be nearby.
An Osprey Family
Let’s meet a typical Osprey family in their rural home, a nest on a tufa tower in Mono Lake. The nest is a large pile of wood, about 6 feet across, constructed over many years. In the first photo, Dad is on the left; his chest is white, his eye yellow, and his feathers are brown. Mom is on the right. She wears a necklace of brown feathers on her chest and she is a bit bigger than Dad. Junior, about three months old, has black feathers outlined with white, giving him a scaly look. His eye is red/orange. All three birds have a chest and belly that is mostly bright white and a band of dark feathers that runs across the eye and down the neck to the back. Adults weigh 3.5 lb. Their 63” wingspan approaches the 80” of a Bald Eagle, but the Eagle weighs 3 times as much; a thuggish brute compared with the slender Osprey.
This cooperative family posed for more images. The next shot shows the size of the nest.
Mom flies off, leaving Dad and Junior to bond.
But after a minute, Dad departs with his lunch. Junior is left alone, a latchkey bird.
What Does “Osprey” Mean?
Most birds have a species label made from two or three words: Great Blue Heron, Say’s Phoebe, Yellow-headed Blackbird. A select few have a single moniker: Mallard, Killdeer, Merlin. The Osprey is one of these, but the name is a mystery. One theory is that the Latin “avis praedae” (bird of prey) became the French “ospreit” which evolved into the English “osprei” in 1460 — maybe, but why was this the “bird of prey” any more than some other Eagle, Hawk or Falcon? A second theory notes that the Lammergeier, an old world vulture, was called the “ossifragus” in Latin, which means bone-breaker. “Os” means bone (ossify, etc.) and fragus means break (or fragment). This bird likes to eat bones and breaks its preferred food items by dropping them from a height. Somehow “ossifragus” migrated to a different bird of prey, the Osprey, although Ospreys are not bone-eaters. Neither theory seems terribly satisfying.
What do Ospreys Eat?
There are reports of Ospreys eating mice, rabbits, ducks, even a baby alligator. These are exceptions. This bird prefers fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Each meal has a fish appetizer, a main course with gills, fins, and tail, and a desert fish. If you ask an Osprey to eat out, they will suggest a Sushi bar or Legal Sea Food. Ospreys generally avoid carrion, even dead fish. They always ask, “Is the fish fresh?”
Ospreys at Mono Lake
Mono Lake is three times saltier than the ocean; consequently, it has no fish. So why are Ospreys nesting on the tufa towers that rise up above the water? The answer is safety. Tufa is calcium carbonate, or limestone. Tufa towers form below the lake surface, where freshwater springs emerge and mix their load of calcium with carbonate in the water. When Los Angeles Department of Water and Power diverted water from the Mono Basin, the lake level fell, exposing these offshore tufa platforms. After World War II, the towers rose above the falling lake waters and Ospreys built their nests on these protected spots. To get fish, the Ospreys commute to nearby Rush Creek or a bit further to Grant Lake.
In August of 2025, Roberta and I visited Mono’s South Tufa area. We counted 10 Ospreys, adults and juveniles. Here are photos of these birds:
Below an Osprey lands on a nest. Note the bands on both legs. In the third photo, the wings bend at the wrist, a common sight with these birds.
Below is the mother with one of the fledglings we saw in the first photo of this blog. This picture was taken July 14, while the first photo was taken Aug 6.
The next few photos show these birds on nests. They often make a racket — high-pitched cries of “PIERP! PIERP!”
The next photo shows a juvenile having a meal.
Canada Geese sometimes use Osprey nests:
A Taxi for Fish
After catching a fish, Ospreys usually point the fish head-first and zoom off to find a safe dining location. The fish has a final aerial ride, but gets little joy. It isn’t easy to hold a cold, wet, slippery, wriggling trout. To hang on, Ospreys can rotate one toe so that two talons are on one side of the fish, two on the other side. The talons are strong and have tiny barbs that help grip the fish. The pads of the toes and feet have sharp spikes. Below are photos showing this transport. The first picture shows an Osprey landing at a Mono Lake nest with a fish.
The following pictures are from the Pleasant Valley Reservoir in 2025. In the first and last photo, the Osprey uses only 1 foot to hold on. Rarely an Osprey will catch two fish at once, one with each foot.
The Catch
Ospreys cruise 20 to 100 feet over the Pleasant Valley Reservoir, looking for fish within four feet of the surface. When the dive starts, they use a head-first position, but in the last tenth of a second, the feet come forward with talons open for the catch. The splash is impressively noisy. The bird may submerge entirely. Then powerful wingbeats lift it, with a squirming burden, back up into the air. Observers have reported that 20 to 80% of dives are successful. Success depends on type of fish, water conditions, lighting, and so on.
The next three pictures show a dive that failed. The bird came up empty.
The next series of pictures shows a successful dive. First the bird spots a target.
Then the dive starts.
Head first now
Feet drop down and talons open.
Feet thrust forward in last split-second
Wham. Impact speeds up to 40 mph have been reported. The bird vanished right after the impact.
Head appears
Wings appear
The struggle to get into the air, using powerful wing muscles.
Success!
One footed hold
In the next shot, the bird throws its tail to the left, to shake out water. More about this shaking later.
The bird continues to use just one foot to hold the fish
On September 21, 2025, I filmed another dive. The first photo shows the start, with the bird well lit by the sun.
The next photo shows the bird lower down, wings in a “W” formation. This dive came to an end before the bird hit the water; evidently the fish moved.
Shake it Baby!
After diving for a fish, the osprey will often be soaked. Its feathers are oily and dense, to resist getting totally soggy. But the bird still needs to shed water to save weight, to allow the feathers to work properly, and to avoid losing heat. Getting dry makes flight faster and easier. Wet feathers waste energy and make the bird vulnerable. In one earlier photo, I commented that the bird was shaking its tail to get rid of water. Next I’ll show two sequences of this shaking behavior, both taken at the Pleasant Valley Reservoir.
Series A. A juvenile bird failed to get a fish. Three photos show water dripping behind and below the flying bird.
In the next picture the bird starts to swivel its head to shake it
Then the bird acts as if it is in the Exorcist. Fierce shaking throws off a cloud of water
Shaking stops, but feathers are disheveled
Just three seconds later, the bird looks smooth and orderly, as if it dried off with a little towel.
Series B. The bird below plunged into the water a little behind me. I heard the splash and started taking pictures as it rose up without a fish. Water drips from the feathers and the belly looks like a wet rag.
First the head starts shaking, followed by spasms of the body, tail, and even wings. A cloud of water flies off the bird. By the last photo the bird is so bedraggled that it is actually falling out of the air. This was all over in one second.
This shaking behavior of Ospreys is well-described in books. I’ve photographed other birds that shake themselves dry in the air: Belted Kingfisher, Double-crested Cormorant, Green-winged Teal.
Portraits
The next photos are Osprey portraits from several Bishop locations. First an Osprey takes off along Bishop Creek Canal.
Then two pictures from the Buckley Ponds. Ospreys in the air often bend their wings at the wrist, so they form a W (or M) shape.
Osprey at the Conservation Open Space Area (COSA)
The remaining portraits are from the Pleasant Valley Reservoir.
The Competition
Humans fish at the Pleasant Valley Reservoir. When we walk there, it is common to meet a half-dozen fishermen with gear that may include small rafts and up to five rods per person. Osprey are competing for fish with these humans. They are also competing with other birds, including the ones below, all photographed at the Reservoir:
Bald Eagles have been known to attack Ospreys in the air and steal their fish.
Double-crested Cormorants. Some cormorants are reported to be the most efficient fish-catchers of all birds; more ounces of fish per calorie of effort.
Common Loon
Common Merganser
Great Egret in the process of catching a small fish
Belted Kingfisher
Great Blue Herons, a group of three
Great Blue Heron with a large fish. These birds do not spear fish; they catch them between their mandibles. The heron had a lot of trouble choking down this fish.
Did a child invent this bird? The birds below were circling the Buckley Ponds on June 29, 2025. The iridescent green feathers, maroon body, decurved bill, red eye, and pink legs are suitable for Alice in Wonderland. Or a Florida theme park.
The name “white-faced” refers to the rim of white feathers that surrounds the eyes and base of the bill. This area is white in breeding season. After molting in the fall, the white border disappears and the bird looks grayer. Strange that the name describes a feature that is usually absent.
This bird is found throughout the US, except for a few regions in the east. I was clueless about its existence until Aug 13, 2022. An Ibis flock passed over the Buckley Ponds and I captured the three images below.
The three pictures above illustrate the difficulties of photographing this bird. They appear mostly as black silhouettes or blurry shapes. They move fast, they are far away, and they appear without warning (unlike Canada Geese and some ducks, who announce their approach with honking or quacking). The distinctive beaks give away their identity; I was able to search my bird guides and quickly figure out what I had photographed.
August, 2022
During August, 2022, I collected more Ibis photos as they migrated through the Owens Valley. The flocks often made large circles, so in some images the birds are moving south, but in others they are moving north. All these pictures were taken at the Buckley Ponds.
In the next two photos, the birds are flying south with the White Mountains in the background.
In the next two images, they are flying north. The first photo shows Mt Humphreys in the background.
In the next photo, part of Mt Tom and the Wheeler Crest are in the background.
Ibis weigh 1.3 lb, have a 3-foot wingspan, and the bills are five inches long. They winter in Mexico. They migrate north to breed in marshy areas of California, Nevada, and elsewhere. They like shallow fresh water, including wet agricultural fields, such as alfalfa fields and rice paddies.
To forage, they wade about, using their long bills to sweep the water or probe muck for insects, crayfish, and worms. In videos, their heads rapidly bob up and down like a feathered sewing machine, while their beaks probe for chow in muddy gunk. Imagine that you put on a blindfold, then stuck your head into a dumpster and tried to locate edible treats with your lips. Fortunately, for Ibis, my dumpster analogy is not quite right. The tips of Ibis bills have sensitive nerves and they have a reflex that makes the bill snap shut on food. So they are not wasting much thought about their culinary choices. Whereas you, in a dumpster, might pause before swallowing what might, or might not, be a hot-dog bun.
Spring 2023
The winter of 2022-23 brought record snow to the Sierra, so many Bishop fields were water-logged in spring. Ponds and marshes sprang up in the sagebrush. Ibis appeared along Airport Road in March. The birds were in breeding plumage, with maroon coloring, white faces, and pink lores. (The lore is the area between the eye and the base on the bill.)
In April, Ibis were in a field bordering Line Street in Bishop, along with a Great Egret and a Mallard.
Fall 2023
In the fall of 2023, large Ibis flocks passed overhead at the Buckley Ponds. Without a camera, or binoculars, I would mistake them for geese or ducks.
Owens Lake
On November 29, 2023, Roberta and I were prowling Owens Lake for birds. Where the Owens River joins Owens Lake, we found Ibis having lunch in casual non-breeding outfits; white faces absent, color grayer, green feathers, less maroon, legs now black. An annoying fence made it hard for me to get clear photos of the birds on the ground. Then the birds took off and circled; the Inyo Range and the Sierra appear in the backgrounds:
Summer 2024
In summer of 2024, a flock of Ibis flew over Airport Road. Some were still in breeding colors:
Spring 2025
In April and May of 2025, Ibis were at the Buckley Ponds. I now had a full-frame camera (Nikon Z8) and the quality of these images is better than the previous ones.
Summer 2025
On June 29, at 7am, Ibis circled us at the Ponds. Thanks to their flight path, I was able to shoot with the sun behind me. I had my Nikon Z8 with a Nikkor Z 600mm f4 lens, gear that proved itself that morning. Images are sharp and well-lit. The garish colors are obvious. In the future, I hope to get better photos of this bird on the ground.
Death Comes for the Agave
This little story has nothing to do with birds. It describes, with photos, the spectacular death of a Harvard agave in my backyard.
Valery Harvard (1846 to 1927) was born in France. He emigrated to the US as a young man and finished medical school at NYU in Manhattan in 1869. He served for decades in the US military, mostly in the American West, but also in Cuba and Manchuria. In 1906 he became faculty President of the Army Medical School. In addition, he was a botanist and studied plants in western Texas. In the 1880s he described the agaves in the Chisos Mountains along the Rio Grande. This plant was later named for him. The beautiful leaves and spines of a Harvard Agave appear in the two photos below, taken in the Chisos Range of what is now Big Bend National Park.
Mexican Jays, a gaudy bird, are common in Big Bend. Below, one perches on sharp agave spines.
I bought a Harvard Agave from the Bishop Nursery and planted it in our raised backyard beds in April of 2014. It survived summer heat and winter snow for years.
On May 5, of 2025, I noticed my Agave was putting out a new central stalk.
In less than 3 weeks the stalk looked like a ten foot spear of asparagus. Below, I posed a professional model in front of the plant, so you can judge the height. The model is 5’2”. She looks worried, probably thinking the stalk will topple over and clobber her.
During June and July, the stalk grew to over 15 feet and put out masses of flowers that were visited by bees.
The last photo, taken July 28, shows that the plant is dying at its base; all the nutrition in the big leaves was used to grow the stalk. The stalk was now between our power line and cable line. It weighed about 40 pounds.
With help from a friend I finally cut it down. I will miss that plant; it was a privilege to watch its spectacular death. I have seen thousands of dead, desiccated agave stalks on hikes in the Southwest. But I’ve never seen the entire cycle from robust health, to sudden growth, and suicidal blooming.
I recently printed some greeting cards with bird images. A friend looked at these and asked, “Do you crop your photos?” My answer was “Yes, almost always.” What is cropping and why do I do it?
Cropping a photograph means cutting away some of the image from the edges. Most cameras produce images that are rectangular or square. If you cut off material from one or more of the 4 edges, then you have cropped the photo.
Whenever you take a picture, many factors exclude material from the final image. The camera itself eliminates part of a potential image. Camera lenses create a round image. But camera sensors are rectangular or square. So the final photograph omits parts of the round image that was created by the lens. My full-frame digital camera has a sensor that is 35.9mm x 23.9mm. A little high-school geometry reveals that 31% of the circular image is omitted from the rectangular image on the sensor.
Your decisions affect what is in or out of a photo. Most cameras held in their default position (landscape mode) record a picture that is wider than tall. If you turn the camera 90 degrees (portrait mode) this cuts potential image material from the sides and adds material to the top or bottom. If you shift your aim from side-to-side, or up and down, this affects what is captured and what is omitted. If you step toward your subject, you exclude more peripheral material from the photo. If you have a zoom lens and increase the zoom power, you reject more from the final picture. A telephoto lens takes a narrow view, excluding more. Conversely, a wide angle lens includes more.
Cropping, however, refers to excluding some of a photo that has already been taken, either by cutting away part of a negative, trimming off part of a print, or omitting pixels from the edge (or edges) of a digital image.
Why would you crop a picture? Reasons include:
1. You want to change the aspect ratio (width to height ratio) to fit the photo to a frame or a computer monitor or a TV screen. Or you think a particular ratio is more attractive. You can turn a horizontal image into a vertical image.
2. You want to trim away a distracting or unattractive part of an image. For example, you might want to cut out a nearby street sign from a shot of a bird. You might crop to remove an overly bright reflection from the surface of a pond. After a bitter divorce, you might crop your ex-spouse out of your old vacation photographs.
3. You might crop to make a bird bigger in the image that remains.
4. You could crop to center an animal. Or to move the animal to one side.
5. You can crop to give more emphasis to the foreground. Or the background.
In short, you might crop if you think that removing part of the image will make what remains a better photograph for some purpose. Let me show some examples.
Swainson’s Hawk and Northern Mockingbird
Raptors often perch on the cottonwoods along Warm Springs Road: American Kestrels, Bald Eagles, Prairie Falcons, Peregrine Falcons, and Red-tailed Hawks use this road. In 2025, a few Swainson’s Hawks moved in from South America; one of them favors a dead cottonwood. Shown below is an unedited image taken on July 19. The hawk is in the center of the image; I usually shoot with a bird near the center to be sure the camera’s autofocus is on the bird.
I edited the picture a bit, making adjustments to exposure, and cropping to move the bird to the left, center the dead tree, and remove a lot of blank, boring sky.
As I was shooting, a Northern Mockingbird appeared, screaming at the hawk; see below. This is a family-oriented blog, so I will not repeat what the Meadowlark was yelling. Now the picture is lopsided; all the action is on the left, while the right side is just empty blue.
So I redid the crop, keeping the focus on the aggressive interaction, below:
It turns out that just one month earlier, on June 19th, the same Hawk on the same tree was harassed by a Western Kingbird. In the first image, the Hawk ducks and almost takes off. In the second photo, the Kingbird can be seen rocketing past; in that picture, the camera focused on the Meadowlark, leaving the Hawk unfocused. I used cropping to change both of these photos to portrait mode.
Mountain Bluebird
In March, a Mountain Bluebird rocketed past me on Gus Cashbaugh Lane. I tried to shoot this action and was rewarded with a few useful images. The background is blurred by my tracking of the fast bird and the narrow depth of field. Below is one of the images:
The photo above was underexposed and the bird looks pretty small. But I import my photos into Adobe Lightroom Classic on my computer. The software lets me correct some deficiencies in an image. I increased the amount of light in the photo, particularly in the darker areas. And I cropped away most of the picture to enlarge the bird. I put the bird just a bit above the photo’s center, producing the result below:
Green-tailed Towhee
These birds live above Bishop. You can find them in the eastside canyons of the Sierra, such as Lee Vining Creek, McGee, and Convict. On a walk around Convict Lake, I shot the bird below. While I love the buds on the tree, I think the background of unfocused leaves is a bit distracting.
So I cropped away most of the background, and produced the image below for a greeting card. Now the picture is highlights the bird, the branch, and the buds.
Western Meadowlark
These birds love to belt out a melody. The photo below is underexposed and the bird seems small.
But cropping and some exposure adjustment reveal a lot of detail. I love the way the feet balance on the barbed wire.
Savannah Sparrow
This sparrow posed on dead reeds along South Airport Road. In the unedited photo, below, he is a little underexposed and it is hard to see details. On a greeting card, using the entire image would produce a minuscule bird.
Making the image brighter and cropping brought out bird details for a card.
Northern Harriers
Two Northern Harriers, male and female, were hunting at the Buckley Ponds. They crisscrossed the sagebrush, searching for rodents. From time to time their flight paths intersected. I was tracking the female, getting photos like the one below.
Suddenly the male could be seen in the viewfinder. In the photo below, the brown female is on the left, the gray male on the right. This is the initial image, with no editing. The birds are underexposed because of the bright sky and bright clouds in the background.
The male came to a stop and fell downward to avoid colliding with his mate. I liked the photo below because both birds are close and positioned so that you can see details of each. But you can see the photo is too dark. The camera underexposed the picture because of the bright background.
In order to get a better image for a greeting card, I took the following steps:
A. Boosted the overall brightness
B. Toned down the white areas in the birds and clouds
C. Added a little sharpening
D. Trimmed away (cropped) most of the picture, just leaving the birds.
You can see the final result below. The gray-white male is falling to the ground. These acrobatics are child’s play for a Harrier. He recovered easily in the air and jetted away. A real show-boat.
Great Egret
A Great Egret flew by on South Airport Road in May, 2025. A white ghost. By now you know the drill. Initial image, below, is too dark and bird too small.
I cropped tightly, leaving just enough space to avoid cutting part of the bird. I usually prefer to leave more room around a bird. And, if possible, show the bird in some kind of context, as I did with the Green-tailed Towhee, shown above. But here I decided to showcase the bird against a featureless white sky. For me, the most interesting features are the wing bones, which can be partly seen though the translucent feathers.
My Approach To Cropping
Now you have seen what cropping can do. Plus adjustments to exposure, shadows, etc. One of the advantages of digital photography is that an amateur with a computer can make all sorts of adjustments and repairs to a digital image. When I photograph a bird, I don’t worry much about composition. I feel I have only a few seconds to capture the image. I put the bird right in the center of the viewfinder and try to get an image that is sharply focused and properly exposed. Some degree of underexposure (too dark) is fine, as this can be easily corrected using software. An overexposed image, however, may be hopeless, as bright areas may have so many fully exposed pixels that no detail can be recovered. Because of this approach, I usually end up cropping to improve the composition of the photo after it is taken. So with a bird, I shoot first, crop later.
When I photograph landscapes, I have a different approach. I often use a tripod and a zoom lens. This allows me to carefully position the scene as I want, making decisions about what to leave in and what to leave out before I push the shutter release. In addition, I may take several images, with different compositions and framing choices. After all, the landscape is not going anywhere soon. Later, I may have little need for cropping.
Poor cropping choices may produce an image that is unappealing. For example, the cropped Mockingbird image below looks weird. Why is the bird’s head stuffed into one corner?
In many of my cropped images, shown above, the bird is off to one side and faces toward the middle of the photo. That is a common choice for a bird photo. But I don’t always make that choice. For example, the Towhee and the Great Egret, shown earlier, face the edge of the picture. In January of 2025 I photographed a juvenile Bald Eagle as it took off from a limb. I cropped the picture to have much more width than height. I feel the Eagle looks as if it is trying to escape from the picture. And I liked the way the tree branches and the Eagle all bend toward the left. I printed this image and it hangs in a frame above Roberta’s desk.
Can Cropping Fail?
If the bird’s image is small relative to the total image, cropping to enlarge the bird a great deal may produce a poor picture. There may not be enough pixels to support a detailed image of the bird, so the result looks grainy and blurred. That is why photographers use big telephoto lenses; to magnify the bird sufficiently before the light reaches the camera’s sensor.
Ethics
Can cropping be unethical? Sure, if you are not honest about what you did. For example, I could take a photo of a Snow Leopard in a zoo. And then crop out anything that might be recognized as part of a zoo, such as bars or a feeding bowl. Then it might look as if I photographed the Leopard in the mountains of Asia. That would be a lie. The ethical failure, however, would not be due to cropping; it would be due to lying. As long as I reveal that the picture was taken in a zoo, I think the cropped photo is ethical.
I could be equally dishonest if I photographed the Snow Leopard using a telephoto lens that allowed me to omit any zoo objects from the picture, without any use of cropping. The dishonesty is not inherent in the photo; it arises if I claim the photo shows something which it does not.
Consider the previous picture of a Swainson’s Hawk being scolded by a Mockingbird. I could transfer that image to Adobe Photoshop and then remove most of the space between the two birds. If I then claimed that the Kingbird came within 6 inches of the Hawk, that would be a lie. I could be honest and reveal that I altered the photo to create a false impression of closeness; but why would anyone want to see a photo altered in this way?
Photographers can always make choices about how an image is created, either before or after taking a picture. Edward Steichen (1879-1973) was a pioneer of photography. In 1903 he took a portrait of J.P. Morgan, the banker. That photo is the most famous image of Morgan, reproduced in hundreds of books and articles. Morgan is staring right at the camera and he looks angry. His black suit merges with the dark background. His left hand grips the metal arm of a chair; but at first glance, it looks as if Morgan is holding a knife. The photo is famous for its drama. It makes Morgan look powerful and dangerous. This is achieved by leaving much of the image in darkness, underexposed or underdeveloped. Use Google to search for
edward steichen photo of JP Morgan
Then scroll down until you see the Wikipedia reference to this. (Some of the other websites crop away part of the chair arm.)
Consider a photo of an American White Pelican at Bishop City Park. Here the issue is not cropping, but exposure. The initial image from the camera shows a lot of feather detail and the reflected bill. Our attention is on the bird because the water looks almost black.
The next picture shows what happens when I hit Lightroom’s “Auto” button to change the exposure. The water is now brighter with a lot of detail, which draws attention away from the bird. This second image looks more like what I saw at 8am in April, when the Park was well lit. Which image is “best?” For what purpose?
Final Comments
Professional photographers and enthusiasts typically catalog and process their digital pictures using software on a home computer. Software choices include Capture One, Topaz, Affinity, Luminar, Snapseed, and more. The dominant applications are Adobe Photoshop and Adobe Lightroom. Photoshop was released in 1990; it is so well-known that the name became a verb, as in “she photoshopped that picture.” It is still popular among photographers and graphic artists. Lightroom appeared in 2017 and is more specifically aimed at photographers.
While the ability to process your own pictures is a gift, it requires a time commitment. On most mornings, Roberta and I go for a one-hour walk. I spend 5 minutes of that walk photographing birds. After a typical walk, I will have about 400 images. When I get home, I import the pictures into Lightroom Classic on my computer. Next I examine each photo. If an image is blurry, or boring, or otherwise useless, I delete it. If I have six images of a sparrow that look similar, I remove five. I do this quickly; in half an hour, just 100 images remain. Now I go back through the pictures, making adjustments. I may increase the overall brightness, darken areas that are too bright, bring out details in shadowed areas, and use commands that sharpen the picture. I almost always crop each image; I trim away unwanted parts and decide where to place the bird in the photo. I keep removing images that are substandard or repetitive. I whittle the results to 40 pictures. Then I electronically label the photos so that I can find them later; a typical label might say “bird, Bishop, Buckley Ponds, Great Blue Heron”. Finally, I rename the photos to something that indicates the location and time they were taken; “Ponds2025Feb.” I use a storage system based on location, such as Buckley Ponds or Mono Lake. In all, a one hour walk will usually mean one hour at my desk.
An Astronomical Endnote
Professional astronomers were early adopters of digital photography. They bought or built electronic light sensors that cost a small fortune. The expense could be justified because it increased the usefulness of big telescopes that were already, um, astronomical in price.
The world’s biggest camera started taking photographs in 2025 at the Vera C. Rubin Observatory in Chile. The camera weighs over 3 tons and has 3,200 megapixels. Earlier I mentioned that the camera I use for birds has a round lens barrel, the rectangular sensor of my camera ignores about 31% of the light that is collected by the lens. But astronomers do not want to waste a third of the photons that are collected by Rubin’s 8.4 meter primary mirror. Instead, the camera captures a nearly circular image using a grid of 189 square CCD sensors. Despite costing 168 million bucks, you cannot use this camera to photograph a bird. It won’t even take a selfie.
The Owens Valley is about 100 miles long and 10 miles wide. This long trench is oriented north to south. Bishop lies roughly in the center. The Sierra Nevada forms the west wall of this ditch, the Inyo and White Mountains form the east side. The Sierra Nevada has 12 summits higher than 14,000 feet. These high summits are 15 to 60 miles south of Bishop. From Bishop we can see only one summit higher than 14,000 feet: White Mountain Peak (14,252) in the White Mountains, to the northeast. West of Bishop is Mount Humphreys (13,992 ft), the highest Sierra Nevada summit below 14,000 feet in elevation.
I photographed mountains long before I started bird photography. On my bird walks, I continue to collect mountain images. One of the fun things about our walks is that the mountain scenery is always there, even if no birds appear. For this blog, I decided to focus (a pun!) on Mount Humphreys. I selected pictures that show how the appearance of this mountain is changed by snow, clouds, light conditions, and my vantage point. Photo locations range from 5 to 20 miles east of Humphreys’s summit.
Mountain Panorama from Bishop
In the photo below, December snow covers sagebrush near Bishop. Mount Humphreys is in the left side of the picture. Basin Mountain (13,187 feet) and Mount Tom (13,658 feet) are lower summits, but they seem taller than Humphreys because they are closer to Bishop. I also labeled “Peaklet” (12,160 feet), a lesser summit that appears in many of my photos because it lies in front of Humphreys. Bishop’s elevation is 4000 feet, so the top of Humphreys is nearly two miles above us.
In January, dawn light (7am) touches the top of Humphreys on the left and Mount Tom on the right. Basin Mountain, left of center, is still in shadow because it is lower.
Welder Jon Vandehoven created a metal sculpture for the Bishop Airport, showing the three summits on the Bishop horizon. Even “Peaklet” appears in his design. His rendition seems a bit abstract at first, but he captures many details that you can see in my pictures.
Artist David Titus imagined how these peaks look from the door of a tent; this fun painting covers a wall in Looney Bean of Bishop, a local coffee house.
Several years ago, the Bishop Chamber of Commerce had a contest for a short description of our town. The winning slogan was “Small Town with a Big Backyard.” Good choice.
Mount Humphreys was named for Andrew A. Humphreys, a Union General during the Civil War. He later became chief engineer of the United States Army. His many achievements in war and engineering are described in a Wikipedia article: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_A._Humphreys. Three summits bear his name; the peak above Bishop, the highest mountain in Arizona, and a third in Yellowstone. He had no personal connection with any of these mountains. His name is entangled with the politics of military base titles. During World War I the Army established Camp A. A. Andrews in Virginia. Later, Congressman Howard A. Smith of Virginia, a pro-segregation Democrat, resented having a military base in his district named for a Union officer; he had the name changed to Fort Belvoir in 1935, honoring the large Belvoir slave planation that existed earlier on the same land.
Mount Humphreys was first climbed in 1904 by James and Edward Hutchinson, two brothers from San Francisco. This was a difficult and notable climb for that era.
I will group subsequent pictures according to the location from which they were taken and the approximate distance from Humphreys’s summit. I will give a date for each photo, but omit the year.
The Pipelines, 5 miles
Water that drains from Mount Humphreys will eventually reach Los Angeles via the LA Aqueduct. Aside, of course, for a dribble that sustains Bishop. Los Angeles Department of Water and Power doesn’t care how that water gets to the valley; their intakes collect from all the streams. But Southern California Edison does care; they built large pipelines to move water from the slopes of Mount Humphreys into Bishop Creek, where it flows through power stations to create the juice that lights our town. The first set of photos was taken from roads near those pipelines. The shot below is from early November. Humphreys is just right of center. The pipeline is about six feet high.
The second picture shows the same view in late November, after the first snow.
The next photo shows more detail of Humphreys before any snowfall. To the left of Humphreys, a massive tower of gray sedimentary rock reaches the skyline, sandwiched between layers of red rock. In some photos you can see the sedimentary layers have been upended ninety degrees. The Sierra is mostly granite, but throughout the range are slabs of layered rock that have been twisted by colossal forces.
Below is the same view, with snow.
The next photo was taken further north from a higher spot. The red towers of the Piute Crags are on the left. Gray Mount Emerson is above them. In the center is Mount Locke. Humphreys is further right. From this vantage, Peaklet, on the far right, reaches the skyline.
The April view below is centered on the gray sedimentary tower.
The last photo in this group was taken further south. Mount Humphreys is right of center and looks quite different from this angle.
Buttermilk Road, 5 miles
The sagebrush flat in the foreground is at 7500 feet on the Buttermilk Road. A view in April. Humphreys near the center, Basin Mountain on the far right. Peak on the far left is Checkered Demon.
Ed Powers Road, 12 miles
In winter, Roberta and I visited nearby Ed Powers Road to photograph the sunrise on Humphreys. I used a tripod for shots in low light. The first photo (7:03 am, January 3) shows, from left to right, Mount Emerson, Mount Locke, Checkered Demon, Humphreys and Basin.
At 7:08, there is more light on Humphreys. Peaklet is now in the light.
The 3rd image was at 7:13 am.
We returned on January 12. The first photo shows Peaklet at 6:53 am.
The sky turns pink at 7 am.
At 7:05 the light has almost reached Peaklet.
(Full disclosure: For years I thought Ed Powers was an early Bishop settler. I finally realized that the name refers to Southern California Edison, which operates the power plants near Bishop. So I am not always the sharpest tool in the shed.)
Riata Road, 13 miles
At 7:10 am in November, Humphreys was in clouds. The details on Peaklet were especially clear.
Barlow Lane, 15 miles
Two March photos at 8:52 am.
Conservation Open Space Area (COSA), 16 miles
The COSA is right downtown. In March I took shots of Humphreys and Peaklet.
Bishop Creek Canal, 18 miles
In June, dramatic clouds cast a shadow on Humphreys’s summit.
In September one year, wildfire smoke created a strange sky color in the next two photos.
Morning clouds cast a shadow, but Peaklet remained in the spotlight below.
In November, cottonwoods were still yellow
December light below.
Fresh snow and clouds on Dec 31, 9:17 am.
May 30, at 6:05 am, created yellow-golden light.
On June 30, at 5:37 am, the light was red. Foreground still in shadow.
Dixon Lane, 18 miles
Both photos below were taken in late April. The clouds and vantage point make Humphreys and Peaklet look mysterious and draw our attention to features that we might otherwise overlook.
Airport Road South, 19 miles.
Three more images are affected by clouds. The first photo was taken in June.
The next two photos were from late March.
Buckley Ponds, 20 miles.
The Buckley Ponds are about 20 miles from Humphreys. It is amazing that a modern camera can capture so much detail through 20 miles of air. All these photos were taken without a tripod.
Below are the Ponds in late March at 9 am.
Next are the Ponds in early November. The birds in the water are American Coots; they hang here in winter. Several trees in this photo are now gone, ravaged by fire and beavers.
The next two images were taken using a wide-angle lens. I was just a little north of the Ponds on the Rawson Canal. Humphreys is visible, but the foreground and the sky dominate the pictures.
The next photo was shot in August at 6:37, as clouds built up.
In late September I shot two pictures using my Nikon Z8 full-frame camera. The level of detail is outstanding.
On the day after Christmas, at 8:48 am, a wispy band of cloud hovers above the peak.
Humphreys with Birds
When I track a flying bird, the background sometimes includes distant peaks. In these pictures, the bird is perhaps a 100 yards away, while Humphreys is about 20 miles off. First, a Great Blue Heron flies near the Bishop Creek Canal.
The next shot shows a female Northern Harrier at the Ponds.
And the last shows a Great Blue Heron at the Ponds.
The West Side
To see the west side of Mount Humphreys, it is easiest to hike over Piute Pass and drop into Humphreys Basin, a tableland of lakes, rocks, and meadows. The first photo shows Humphreys near the center, at 7 pm.
A band of old, dark metamorphic rock, much of it loose, extends horizontally across the middle of the photo below. On the far right, partly hidden by a pine tree, is a purple field of lupine.
I climbed Humphreys in 1988 with my friend David Harden. We climbed the Southeast Buttress and then followed the south ridge to the top. Our ascent route is marked in green. Then we descended the Northwest Face and the Southwest Slope, following the red line. A fun day.
The last photo shows detail of the Northwest Face; this is the usual way up. We descended this face in 1988.
An anecdote: David and I downclimbed Humphreys without using a rope. As you can see in the previous photo, some cliffs near the top are steep. I got stuck part way down and asked David to help me find placements for my feet; he is a much better rock climber than I am. David wisecracked “Cummings, for someone who does so much climbing, you’d think you would be better at it.” I told this to Roberta; she thought David’s quip was harsh. I thought it was pretty funny. And true.
Sixty-five photos of birds taken near Bishop in April-May of 2025. Organized by location and species.
Buckley Ponds
A flock of White-faced Ibis flies north. The name refers to the white rim around their eyes and base of their beaks; this appears during breeding season. Their glossy feathers seem to change colors with the lighting.
Male Bufflehead flies over the Ponds.
The Red-winged Blackbirds are everywhere in the reeds in late winter and spring. A female is shown below.
Great Blue Herons were common in May.
Conservation Open Space Area (COSA)
A male Mallard looks outraged.
A Red-tailed Hawk landed on a post with a freshly caught rodent. Carnivorous birds have no teeth, so eating consists of tearing apart and choking down their prey. I used to think that if I died and could come back as another creature, I would want to be a bird. Eating like this make me reconsider that choice.
A female Wood Duck is not as gaudy as her male partner, but still a lovely bird.
Male and female Wood Ducks.
European Starlings are famous for their murmurations in large flocks. I also enjoy the colors of the individual birds. In winter they are covered in bright spots. In breeding season the spots fade, the bird develops glossy feathers, and the bill becomes yellow.
Western Bluebirds were often on a fence line in Spring.
Brewer’s Blackbirds lined up on a dead branch. The males, with their yellow eyes, bracket a female. These birds like to hang out in the Vons parking lot and near the tables at the Great Basin Bakery.
Below is a female House Finch. Her eye is swollen, red, and bulging. Her conjunctivitis is likely due to Mycoplasma gallisepticum, a bacteria that often infects poultry. This disease first appeared among House Finches in the mid-Atlantic states in 1994 and killed off about half of the House Finches in the area. The illness moved west, reaching California House Finches in 2006. Birds die due to lose of vision; they cannot feed themselves and are killed by predators. Will this bird survive her illness?
Airport Road
Northern Mockingbirds are common along the fence line of Gus Cashbaugh Lane. The second photo shows a bird with nest-building material in its beak.
A Savannah Sparrow perches on a reed. As a photographer, I am particularly fond of this photo, showing this tiny bird posed against a green background of new reeds.
The male Ring-necked Pheasant shown below was walking on Airport Road near the sewage ponds. I was excited to see this bird, a new species for me. This bird comes from Asia and was introduced to California around 1855. It was introduced to the Owens Valley for hunting in the early 1900s. The Fish and Game Department continued to spread these birds until 1977.
Ravens and Crows often harass other birds. Below a Common Raven torments a Turkey Vulture with the Sierra in the background.
I have many photos of Great Egrets in flight, but the pictures below were unusual. The sky was a bit overcast and the bird flew in front of darker clouds; this lighting made the wing feathers unusually translucent. Near the leading edge of each wing you can see some of the bone structure.
A male American Kestrel flies past.
A Bullock’s Oriole does a balancing act on some vegetation.
Pleasant Valley Reservoir
A Common Loon floats alone.
A male Common Merganser streaks over the water. In the second photo, the bird is moving away from us and the water looks green due to reflections from trees. I liked the reflections of the bird in both photos.
Rock Wrens are common along the Reservoir road. In the second picture, the Wren picks up a fly.
Two pictures of a Mallard and her family.
Owens Lake
For the third year in a row, Roberta and I attended the Owens Lake Bird Festival, sponsored by Friends of the Inyo. Each year we sign up for a photo shoot with Martin Powell; he grew up near the lake and has photographed birds there for many years. We cruise a network of gravel roads to get close to some birds. Drive and shoot, drive and shoot.
California Gulls are plentiful in the Spring and it is fun to see them flying and and feeding on the alkali flies.
In the image below, you can see the bird’s iris.
The black specks are alkali flies.
Waterbirds will often dip a wingtip into the water as they fly close to the surface. I used to think this was a minor flight error, like a car dragging its muffler. But I’ve seen this often with many bird species. My thought now is that the bird is tapping the water to assess or maintain its altitude, just as you might rest your hand lightly on a railing on a flight of stairs.
A long-billed curlew contorts itself to get food into its beak tip.
American Avocets.
Long-billed Dowitcher.
Green Gate road off of Dixon Lane
Two Great Horned Owls have been hanging out here. But no babies this year.
European Starlings showing their breeding plumage, particularly in the third picture.
Eurasian Collared Dove.
Bishop Creek Canal
Prairie Falcons are not common here and I had no good pictures of them in flight. This changed on April 8, when the bird below shot past me. The falcon headed north and then turned east. Flight was so smooth and predictable that I captured over 100 images with the bird in perfect focus.
The Falcon has fine white dots on the wings, something that was not known to me.
Western Meadowlark. The song of this bird is just as lovely as its feathers.
Red-tailed Hawks have a nest on Warm Springs Road. I managed to find two babies for pictures. They have already been banded.
Two photos of a young Red-tail near the canal. Note damage to feathers in both wings.
Loggerhead Shrike.
Roberta and I spotted 4 hawks that were flying close to each other near Warm Springs Road. They had white rumps and at first we thought they were Northern Harriers. But as we got closer, we realized these were something else. Later, looking at the photos, I decided they were Swainson’s Hawks. The first two photos below show a juvenile Swainson’s; the third photo shows a mature bird. These pictures were taken from the car. These hawks winter in locations from Mexico to Argentina. They come here to breed. They are not common here and I was happy to get photos with so much detail.
A Turkey Vulture was perched near the road. A bug (fly?) passed over the Vulture’s head and the Vulture turned to look at the bug; you can see this flying bug in the picture. The Vulture rolled its blue nictitating membrane over its eye, possibly for protection.
Miscellaneous
Chukars were introduced from areas that are now part of Pakistan. Like the Ring-necked Pheasant shown earlier, they were brought from Asia and turned loose to be hunted. The Pheasants like the habitat of agricultural fields. Chukars prefer dry rocky slopes. This bird was in Mazourka Canyon in the White Mountains. I got out of the car to get this picture. The Chukar did what they usually do. It ran off uphill.
The male House Finch shown below was singing like mad in my neighbor’s front yard. But his color is wrong; he should have bright red feathers on head and upper body. Instead he is yellow. Apparently this Finch cannot produce red feathers because his diet is deficient in certain chemicals that are needed.
Roberta spotted a Western Kingbird in a tree next to Ed Powers Road. The bird kept flying out to grab something in the air, then perching again.
A short comment
In this collection I showed two birds that were introduced from Asia so that people could shoot them in North America. This introduction of species for hunting is common. If you visit White Sands National Monument in New Mexico, you can also visit the nearby White Sands Proving Grounds. The Army tests missiles here. The visitor’s center has a missile museum, but surprisingly has heads of Oryx, a large African antelope, mounted on the wall. The State Fish and Game Department introduced 95 of these animals into the missile range between 1969 and 1977. Now the population numbers around 5000 and they are hunted as big game. They have also become a road hazard for motorists. On another trip, we were in the Davis Mountains of west Texas and saw a herd of what we initially thought were deer; but these were Barbary Sheep, imported from North Africa to be shot by hunters in Texas. These are all small, quirky examples of how humans have manipulated nature. For a more sweeping discussion, see Beth Shapiro: Life as We Made It: How 50,000 Years of Human Innovation Refined — and Redefined — Nature.
I selected bird pictures from the 2024-25 winter. All were shot in the Eastern Sierra, most close to Bishop. All were taken with my new full-frame camera, the Nikon Z8. I picked 60 photos that had some special appeal to me.
The Buckley Ponds
Horned Larks hang out in flocks of 30-40 birds. They hop about on the ground, scratch for food, and then take-off in unison to zoom about. They seem skittish, nervous, and hyperactive.
The Song Sparrow below was trying to find food on the ice. In the second image, the bird is executing a Hamill camel. If this term is not familiar, look up Dorothy Hamill.
A mature Cooper’s Hawk was in the trees on the Rawson Canal.
A Bewick’s Wren weighs 1/3 of an oz, but can bellow out over a dozen melodies. I often hear this bird, but cannot find it in thickets. Sometimes it poses politely, as shown below.
This Cinnamon Teal looks a little comical with his beak open.
The Ruddy Duck below looks calm and relaxed. I like the way his paddling churns up the water in his wake.
This Pied-billed Grebe also seemed tranquil, but then suddenly spit out water.
A male Redhead cruised by and then turned to fly over me.
The Eared Grebe below does not have the characteristic “ears” (tufts of feathers) that appear in mating season. It dives for food in the second shot.
Most of my flight photos of Red-tailed Hawks show the underside of this bird. But this hawk banked so that I captured a good view of its back and the red tail feathers. Note the messy white feather in the middle of the tail. Blackbirds will often chase and attack these hawks. Was the white feather partly pulled out by a Red-winged Blackbird?
Northern Harriers patrol low over open areas. I usually identify them by this flight pattern and the prominent band of white feathers where the tail meets the body. The white rump is easy to spot as the birds twist and turn over the sagebrush.
A Harrier couple was hunting at the ponds and in the surrounding desert. Back and forth, back and forth, over the brush. The female, seen below, wears a brown outfit.
The male sports a conservative gray suit, a dignified look.
I parked along the Rawson Canal, a little north of the ponds, and walked about, hoping to get more shots of the Harriers. I was tracking the brown female when the gray male came close, as seen below. I was pumped when I saw the encounter in the viewfinder. The camera was shooting 12 frames per second with a shutter speed of 1/2000. I wasn’t initially sure if I captured the action, or if the image was well focused. Later, when I saw the images on my computer, I was pleased. The camera caught sharp pictures of this split-second meeting.
In the next two pictures, the female hovered while the male plunges toward earth. But no bird hit the ground. These superb fliers were in control.
The next photo shows the female continuing her patrol of the desert.
The COSA
The COSA (Conservation Open Space Area) is a 25-acre plot of land right in Bishop, managed by the Bishop Paiute Tribe. It is just north of the Forest Service Office Building and the Hospital. On the east is a school and to the west is a health clinic. There are 1.2 miles of popular trails. Birds of all kinds frequent this area.
This winter a pair of Wood Ducks were often here. The colors of the male are so gaudy that they seem comical.
A Ring-necked Duck, below, was bathing itself in the pond.
Female Mallards have lovely feather patterns. I like the first Mallard photo for the reflection.
As we were leaving the COSA, we surprised two Mallards in a small drainage ditch. The ditch behind the female was in shadow, creating a portrait that reveals detail against a black background. A Mallard counterpart to Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring.
A Sharp-shinned Hawk yielded two photos that I liked.
A Great Egret lands, using wings to brake and legs to reach out for a perch.
A Red-shouldered Hawk.
European Starlings have intricate patterns.
A Song Sparrow.
A Ruby-crowned Kinglet weighs ¼ of an ounce. Hard to photograph because they won’t hold still. It is wearing spectacles.
A male House Finch looks as if it was dipped head-first in red powder.
I liked the feather detail in this image of a Eurasian-Collared Dove. This bird species originated in India, spread throughout Asia and Europe around 1600, arrived in North America about 50 years ago. They are now the most common dove in the Bishop area.
A Northern Mockingbird peeks around a branch.
Airport Road
The intersection of South Airport Road and Gus Cashbaugh Lane is a good place to find birds.
A flock of Canada Geese is heading south in March. The wrong direction!
Another flock of Geese heads north, with the Sierra in the background.
This Mountain Bluebird appeared in early March.
A male Northern Flicker.
Western Meadowlarks perch on the fences along the road. Their loud and lovely song is often heard here. In the first photo you can see the bird’s tongue. I managed to catch the bird in the air.
Pleasant Valley Reservoir
In winter the reservoir is used by all sorts of water birds, plus others.
The image below shows four Double-crested Cormorants. One thinks it is performing on Dancing with the Stars. The nearest bird is trying to ignore this display, while two other birds look on in shock.
A group of Ring-necked Ducks tries to take-off in a panic.
A Yellow-rumped Warbler displays the reason for its name.
A male Bufflehead tries to get airborne by pushing off the water with its pink feet.
The American Dipper (previously the Water Ouzel) was John Muir’s favorite bird. If you hike in the Sierra and take a break near a forested stream, you can watch this bird as it flies upstream and downstream near the water surface. It may dive into the water and re-emerge in another spot. When it lands on a rock, it bobs up and down as if it was doing squats. My favorite Dipper encounter was in Shinumo Creek in the Grand Canyon. I was wading down the creek bed; the clear water was about a foot deep, placidly flowing over a bottom of rock and sand. I watched a dipper that was walking about underwater searching for bugs. In the photo below, the Dipper was looking for food where the Owens River flows into the reservoir.
Miscellaneous places
Across the street from my house, a flock of male Brewer’s Blackbirds mingled with female Red-winged Blackbirds.
On Brockman Lane, a Red-shouldered Hawk was sounding off.
On Warm Springs Road, a Red-tailed Hawk was yelling.
A quartet of European Starlings rehearses with their conductor along the Bishop Creek Canal.
In January a couple of Sandhill Cranes spent three days feeding in a mowed alfalfa field north of the Bishop-Sunland Landfill. These Cranes are common on the West side of the Sierra. These two must have made a wrong turn.
A male American Kestrel perches on a power line near the Bishop Landfill.
A Great Blue Heron in a tree near Dixon Lane.
Another Great Blue Heron flies away from me at Klondike Lake, south of Bishop. Note missing feathers on right wing.
A male Bufflehead tries to take off from a pond near Klondike Lake.
Three Ruddy Ducks launching at Owens Lake.
Finally one of the Ruddy Ducks is in the air, its wing-tip dipping into the smooth water.
I first climbed in Africa in 1984; a failed attempt on Mt Kenya (in Kenya) and a successful climb of the Western Breach route on Kilimanjaro (in Tanzania), the highest summit (19,340 ft) in Africa. In July 1990 I returned to Mt. Kenya with my friend, Bart O’Brien. This post uses digitized slides from that trip. The photos of me were, obviously, taken by Bart.
Safari photos
First we spent a week visiting some of Kenya’s game parks. The photo below shows Zebras and Hartebeests on the Serengeti.
Wildebeests below.
Cheetah eating a gazelle.
Lone Elephant.
Elephant family.
Lion King; not the musical.
Hyenas eating a Zebra-burger.
Great White Pelicans.
Leopard.
Thompson’s Gazelle.
Reticulated Giraffe.
Approach to Mt. Kenya
Mt Kenya had a volcanic origin. Later it was covered by ice which severely eroded the rock; what remains is the interior plug of the original volcano. This created steep towers of hard rock with a rough texture; ideal for climbing. Most visitors to Mt Kenya hike up Pt. Lenana (16,355 feet), a peak which only requires walking; perhaps 10,000 ascents per year. The main summit of Mt Kenya, Batian (17,057 feet), involves roped climbing and has about 50 ascents per year. Batian was first climbed in 1899 by Halford Mackinder (English geologist), and two professional guides, Cesar Ollier and Josef Brocherel. The West Ridge, rated 5.8 in difficulty, was first climbed in 1930 by Eric Shipton and Bill Tilman. Both men were English coffee growers who later left Africa and became famous explorers of peaks in Asia and elsewhere. (I met Shipton in 1975 in Portland, Oregon, when he showed slides of trips to Tibet and Everest in the 1930s.)
Bart and I planned to spend 2+ weeks in the park; our main goal was to climb Mt Kenya’s West Ridge. We hired 3 porters to help carry our gear to climbing routes on the north side of the peak. Over two days we hiked the Sirimon Route to a tarn near the Kami Hut, at 14,600 feet, arriving on July 19. The porters left us here.
Mt Kenya’s main summit in the distance,
The porters enter the Mackinder Valley
Bart near our tent in Mackinder Valley.
Lobelia, a lovely plant.
A forest of Giant Groundsel.
Kami Tarn, 14,600 ft. Our blue tent is near center of photo.
Fresh snow.
Initial climbs
The Kami Tarn was our home for 8 nights. On July 21 we climbed Pt. Peter (15,607).
Josef Glacier from Pt. Peter.
Oblong Tarn and Hausberg Tarn.
Bart uses a rappel to descend.
The next day we climbed Pt Dutton (16,207), shown below.
Bart leads up.
Peter follows. Kami Tarn and our tent, a blue dot, are in upper right.
Peter contemplates his fate. Note how rope runs through an anchor set in the rock.
Laundry day.
Bart demonstrates clean, but frozen, socks.
On July 23, we climbed Pt Lenana (16,355), then rested on 7/24. Below, Peter smiles on top of Lenana. Only a little gray in his beard back then.
People hiking up Pt Lenana from Austrian Hut.
Nelion, Mt Kenya’s second highest summit (17,021 ft.) The true summit, Batian, is hidden behind Nelion.
Upper part of the Chogoria route which I hiked in 1984.
The West Ridge
We were now acclimated and ready to attempt the summit, Batian, via the West Ridge. We sorted gear, each preparing a small pack with extra clothing, sleeping pads, bivouac sacs, some food, 1 quart of water, climbing gear. No sleeping bags. The plan was to go light and fast, sleeping one night on the climb.
A glossary of some climbing terms used in this blog:
Roped climbing: About two centuries ago, ropes were introduced for climbing. Imagine two guys on a ledge. (Guys invented this sorry scheme.) Each ties himself to one end of a rope. The leader starts up. If the leader falls, he lands on the ledge; the rope offers him no help. If he falls past the ledge, he pulls off the second climber and both die. Imagine the leader climbs up 100 feet. He stops, tries to find a strong position, and pulls the rope up to assist the second climber. If the second climber falls, the leader tries to keep a grip on the rope. This wretched method was used for a century.
The old method of roped climbing produced many disasters. Edward Whymper (English) made the first ascent of the Matterhorn in 1865. On the descent, the 7 climbers were roped together. Douglas Haddow slipped, he pulled Michel Croz off the rock, and their combined weight pulled off Charles Haddon and Francis Douglas. Whymper and the Taugwalders (father and son) would have been pulled off as well, but the rope broke above Douglas; 4 men died, 3 survived. So one man slipped and the rope killed 3 more.
Belaying. Eventually climbers invented the belay. When the leader climbs, the second anchors himself to the rock with rope, pitons, other devices, and strong webbing. If the leader falls, the second will probably live thanks to his anchor. When the leader has climbed 100 feet to the next ledge, he stops and anchors himself to the rock. Then the second climber removes his anchor and comes up. This arrangement is called “belaying.” If the second falls, he may get banged up, but he should not fall far if the leader holds the rope.
Anchors. Climbers realized that anchors could be used between the climber and the belayer. The leader climbs while the belayer pays out rope. The leader may spot a crack after 20 feet. She puts an anchor in that crack, attaches a carabiner (snaplink) with webbing, and runs the rope through the carabiner. Now she climbs up 10 feet more. If she falls, the belayer holds the rope and the leader only drops 10 feet below the last anchor. Remarkably, this works. I’ve fallen more than once and I’m still alive. Placing anchors is a skill; they must be strong, placed quickly, and easily removed by the second climber.
Rappels. To get down some cliffs, climbers set up an anchor, attach nylon webbing, and slide half the rope through the webbing. If the rope is 150 feet long, the two 75-foot halves hang down from the anchor. The climber, using a metal device, slides down the rope. A lot can go wrong. You can slide off the end of the rope, you can detach from the rope, the anchor can fail, the rope can be cut, and more. But if you do this right, rappelling provides a fast descent.
Verglas. Clear ice on rock, hard to see, very slippery. Same thing as “black ice” on the highway; black, because you see the asphalt through the invisible ice.
July 24
Rest and get ready. Bart frets a bit about the route. He is the better climber, so he will lead, place all the anchors. The responsibility for finding the route rests on him. My job is to follow as fast as I can, be cheerful, quickly remove each anchor, and return the gear to him in neat order when I get to his belay station.
July 25
Breakfast 5am, on the go at 6. Fast hiking, then scrambling. At 7:50 we are at the notch between Pt Dutton and the Petit Gendarme. We climb about 100 feet – there is a lot of air below and we rope up. We are now on the West Ridge. We reach the top of the Petit Gendarme at 9am. Then climb and rappel down into a deep notch. Long traverses put us below the Grand Gendarme; really steep as we head up to a large ledge, around 11am.
Photo below shows the West Ridge Route from the Northwest.
In photo below, the Petit Gendarme is above Bart’s head. Grand Gendarme off to the left. We roped up soon after this photo was taken.
Looking down on Pt. Dutton.
Peter passes summit of Petit Gendarme.
Bart belaying on ridge of Petit Gendarme. We have to descend into the space behind him, then climb to the ledge in sunlight on the left.
Photo below is a view from a distant point, showing the Petit Gendarme on the right and Grand Gendarme near the middle.
Bart follows ledges on side of Grand Gendarme.
View looking back at Petit Gendarme.
Bart climbing up the Grand Gendarme.
This distant view shows the big ledge on top of the Grand Gendarme. In the previous photo, Bart was on the wall a little to the right of this picture’s center.
A bite to eat, a sip of water.
Up to a steep wall; Bart shoots up without his pack, hauls it after him. I follow. We are now past the hardest spots, but the ridge goes on and on. It is like being in an airplane, looking down on one side or the other.
We reach Shipton’s Notch. Bart belays me.
A few more hard sections, and then easier.
A distant view of the final section of the West Ridge. Batian on left skyline. Firman’s Tower is the pinnacle about 25% of the way from the right margin of the photo.
At 2:50 pm we are on top of Batian, 17,055, the summit of Mt Kenya.
We have been moving for 9 hours. We decide to descend the standard North Face route. Back to Shipton’s notch, then further, then downclimbing and 2 rappels. We make a mistake — we follow old rappel anchors down, but they lead nowhere. We have to climb back up. We are tired and want to rest. But no whining or cursing. Back up two hundred feet, on to the North Ridge, 2 more rappels, and we find flat spots near Firmin’s Tower. We each have a small ledge with a rock wall to keep us from the void. It is 6:40 pm. The shadow of the peak falls on the clouds below. By 7 it is dark. The temperature plunges.
Bart gets ready for a cold night.
Top of Firman’s Tower.
Shadow of the summit on top of clouds.
July 26
The equatorial night was 11 hours; I slept 4 hours. I shivered from 3am to dawn. Finally, the sun warms us. I finished all my water the previous day. Bart saved a pint, but it froze in his bivy sack; he cannot drink the ice. Below, Bart sits up as the sun reaches him.
We start down at 7:45am. First, 6 rappels.
Concentrate; no more mistakes. Scramble down an amphitheater. Two more rappels, then climb down a gully, then 2 more rappels. At 10:30 we are walking. Water flows from the Krapf glacier. We drink and drink and drink. By noon we are in camp. Rest. We are so happy. 12 hours of sleep. July 27 is a rest day.
Around the mountain
July 28
We move camp. No porters now. But we are fit and 11 days of food are gone. Bart’s load is 100 lb., mine is 75. In 4 hours we hike to the south side of the mountain, set up camp. Nearby is a group of 12 friendly British climbers; medical students and registrars from St. Mary’s Hospital in London.
Bart with 100 pounds of gear.
Hausberg tarn on left, Oblong tarn on right. Trail in middle.
Emerald Tarn.
Darwin Glacier, Pt. John.
West Ridge on left skyline. Tyndall Glacier, Tyndall Tarn.
The British camp, with dining tent, outhouse, etc.
Our pathetic little camp. Bart shakes fresh snow off the tent fly.
Final climbs and hikes
July 28-31
Rain, mist, snow. Dayhikes, scrambles up peaks named for Shipton and Tilman. The Brits invite us to dinner. We exchange stories and get to know them.
Batian seen on left, Nelion in cloud on right. Gates of the Mist in between. Diamond Glacier and Diamond Couloir below the Gates.
Climbers in the Diamond Couloir.
Tyndall Glacier.
Ice cave.
We climbed Shipton Peak and Tilman Peak in mist.
Tragedy
Aug 1
Four of the Brits hiked around the mountain on July 30, then climbed the North Face route to sleep on ledges above Firmin’s Tower. On July 31 they headed to the summit. Bill was leading, roped to Elunid. He slipped, yelled “Oh my God,” and flew downward. Elunid was not anchored, so the rope yanked her after Bill. Jim and Jed searched the area; they found blood, but no bodies. They descended. Now the Brits want us to help find Bill and Looney. We gather gear, quickly hike around the peak. Bart and I opt to climb the Krapf Rognon (15,748), a rock hulk, and use binoculars to view locations further east of the searched area. Our guess was right. We spot the broken bodies in a giant gulley. I cry for a while. We scramble down and tell others at the Kami Hut. John Omirah, a climbing ranger for the park, is in charge. (He played the role of a tracker in the movie, Gorillas in the Mist. Sigourney Weaver played Diane Fossey.) He says porters will remove the bodies the next day. Bart and I hike back to camp.
The North side, with West Ridge on skyline. The Krapf Rognon is the bulky rock blob in the lower left of photo.
The bodies.
Park rangers. John Omirah on the right with helmet.
Aug 2
We sleep in, but John Omirah wakes us. The bodies lie above a 100 foot cliff and porters cannot reach them. Can we help? At 7:30 we leave and by 9 we are at Kami Hut. We collect some ropes and reach the base of the gully by 11:30. Bart leads up and places an anchor. Omirah and I enter the gully — steep, loose, dangerous. I’ve never seen humans pulverized like this. We drop the bodies below the cliff, where they can be retrieved. By 2:30 we are done. All of us are shaken. A cup of tea at Kami Hut, then 2 hours back to our tent.
What can we say about these senseless deaths? One strategy is to find mistakes. The recent rain and mist made verglas likely, especially in the morning. Bill probably slipped on ice that he never saw. There were no anchors, so once Bill fell, Elunid was doomed. Bart and I climbed through this area on July 25, using belays and anchors. You will be safe if you just avoid mistakes.
This blame-the-victim approach is common. An annual report, Accidents in North American Mountaineering, is published by the American Alpine Club. This is a ghoulish litany of deaths in the previous year. Accounts are followed by a list of mistakes that were made. When I started climbing, I began to realize that some “mistakes” were irrelevant. For example, a solo hiker would stumble off a cliff and die; the analysis criticized the hiker for being alone. But 1) had there been a companion, the hiker would still have died and 2) are we supposed to never go alone? Over the years, the reports became more thoughtful. Less “that would never happen to me” and more “but for the Grace of God…” Often the dead were doing what many climbers would do. And ran out of luck.
Another way to think about climbing deaths is to acknowledge that climbing is insanely dangerous – it is all a mistake. Climbing, like any sport, has no useful objective; put a ball in a hoop, run fastest to the tape, reach the summit. Sport is for amusement, challenge, diversion. When you step into the batter’s box or the starting blocks, your risk of death is minimal. That isn’t true for climbing. Some climbing magazines have obituary columns; most of those listed are young. I’ve done over a 1000 climbs. Friends died on expeditions with me and on domestic peaks. I’ve stepped over frozen bodies. I’ve seen climbers die. I’ve narrowly missed death several times. Why did I accept these risks? Was it an addiction – foolish, but irresistible? A type of gambling in which the bet limit is your life?
Edward Whymper wrote, “Climb if you will, but remember that courage and strength are nought without prudence, and that a momentary negligence may destroy the happiness of a lifetime. Do nothing in haste; look well to each step; and from the beginning think what may be the end.” Poetic advice, but illusory. If you climb, haste is often necessary and unbroken prudence is a fantasy. Want prudence? — stay home. I don’t believe life should be risk-free or that the person who lives longest wins. But the chances many climbers take, myself included, seem hard to justify.
While we were on Mt Kenya we came across several metal plaques, affixed to rocks, commemorating dead climbers. They are the alpine equivalent of the white crosses that mark fatal crash sites on highways.
Last climb and hike out.
Aug 3
I want to stay in camp, but I know Bart wants to climb Pt John (16,020). We make quick work of this peak in a mild snow storm. We are smiling on top. Rappel off and back to camp. I later learn that Bart did the climb because he thought I wanted to go. Dinner with the Brits.
Pt. John.
Peter hangs on and smiles for the camera.
Darwin Glacier.
Peter on top. Diamond Couloir behind his right elbow.
View of the Diamond Couloir.
Aug 4
A long slog with heavy loads gets us off the mountain via the Naro Moro route. Reach Nairobi the next day. Below, Peter eats food off of his heavy load.
Final view of the south side of Mt Kenya. Batian in center, with west ridge on left. Diamond Glacier and Nelion just right of center. Pt. John in the Y of the dead Groundsel limbs.
The West Ridge of Mt Kenya is one of my favorite climbs; 30 hours of exciting effort. But the meaningless deaths cast a shadow on this memory.
Anecdote from my 1984 trip:
Brad Neiman and I shouldered giant packs (about 90 lb. each: 10 days of food plus camping and climbing gear) and began a 3-day walk to reach the peak via the Chogoria route; a scenic path which we had to ourselves. We staggered along in the forest and found a sleeping Cape Buffalo that was 25 feet away. He stood up and looked grumpy. This animal weighs 1500 lb. Wikipedia says: “One of the “big five” African game, it is known as “the Black Death” or “the widow-maker,” and is widely regarded as a very dangerous animal. According to some estimates, it gores and kills over 200 people every year…” Brad was a little ahead of me; with just a few steps he vanished into the jungle. I stupidly stood there and lifted my camera to take a picture. Brilliant! The buffalo charged; I turned and waddled away, knowing that I would be gored and trampled in two seconds. But after 100 feet, I was still alive; I looked back and saw the buffalo had stopped — I circled past the buffalo and joined Brad.
Birds of Bishop 