Birds of Bishop

Talons & Toes

The ancient Greek myths tell us that the First Bird, Archaeopteryx, bargained with the Gods. In a swap for the gift of flight, the Bird gave up his arms, hands, and fingers in exchange for feathered wings. But Zeus let the Bird keep his legs, feet, toes, and talons, which the Bird could use for carrying, climbing, diving, eating, fighting, hopping, hovering, jumping, landing, mating, paddling, perching, preening, running, scratching, swimming, taking off, wading, and walking.

Ok, I made up that Greek myth. But that was, in effect, the bargain that birds made when they evolved from dinosaurs. They exchanged their arms for wings, but kept feet which they later modified. This essay shows pictures of bird feet, a feature of birds that I’ve come to notice through photography.

The Four-toed Foot

The Red-winged Blackbird demonstrates the prototype of an avian foot; three toes point forward, one toe points backward. Each toe has a long claw or talon. Falconers wear gloves to protect their arms from sharp talons; but even a tiny blackbird has claws that look sharp and long.

The photo below shows the three forward toes and single backward toe of both feet. The backwards toe, the hallux, is equivalent to our big toe.

Red-winged Blackbird, male. Buckley Ponds, Bishop.

The next photo reveals the sharpness of the talons of the left foot. Talons, or claws, grow constantly; they are kept to a reasonable length by wear and tear. The bird’s position in the photo looks stressful, clinging to an upright limb. It looks like a pole dancer at a nightclub. [Full disclosure: I have never seen a pole dancer, aside from movie scenes.] But birds use this type of side-perch all the time, so it must be easy for them. Bird toes have a clever design. The tendon in each toe has bumps on its surface. Once the bird grips something, the tendon bumps mesh with corresponding notches in the surrounding tendon sheath. Sibley writes that this locks off the tendon much like a plastic zip tie. The bird can maintain its grip with little muscular effort.

The bird below is a female Red-winged Blackbird. We can see the first joint in her leg. Is that her knee? If so, her knee seems to bend backwards compared with our knees. This impression is wrong. The long bone from the first joint down to the toes is actually the tarsus, equivalent to the mid-bones of the human foot. What we call the foot of a bird is just the toes. The first joint that we see in the photo is the heel, not the knee. Birds literally walk and perch on tip-toe. The actual knee and femur are usually hidden by feathers and flesh.

Red-winged Blackbird, female. Buckley Ponds, Bishop

There are variations on this prototypical bird foot. Some birds have two toes or three, some have webbing, some have lobes, some have two toes forward and two backwards, and so on. A few of these variations will appear later.

Foot portraits

Raptors

I’ll start with raptors, because their toes and talons are so big and dramatic. The raptor-foot photos all show that yellow is the fashion choice for these carnivores.

The talons of a Bald Eagle are fearsome. These should not be legal.

A Cooper’s Hawk has very long toes.

Juvenile Cooper’s hawk. Warm Springs Road, Bishop.

A juvenile Cooper’s Hawk uses a powerline in my backyard to hunt for birds.

A Red-shouldered Hawk shows off its talons.

A Peregrine Falcon brings its reign of terror to the Bishop Creek Canal. These hunters kill birds by either grabbing them in the air or by slamming into them with their big feet. Their feet must be tough as they use them like boxing gloves with daggers.

A Prairie Falcon poses next.

Prairie Falcon. Warm Springs Road, Bishop.

The next few photos show Red-tailed Hawks. First, a classic pose shows how the feet grab a branch. The bird seems to let part of the branch rest in its “palm.” You will later see a Western Meadowlark use a similar pose.

Then a nice view of talons.

The photo below shows a common habit of Red-tails and some other birds. The bird perches on one foot, then hides the other foot in its belly feathers. It looks as if it is growing a foot out of a belly-button. Except birds don’t have belly buttons.

The next 3 photos show a young Red-tail that lifts its left foot and hides it in its feathers. Why do this? Their feet have little blood flow and are very resistant to cold. Still, perhaps it has to do with minimizing heat lose. Or perhaps this just feels comfortable for the bird.

Songbirds

Let’s move on to the feet of songbirds. Their feet look similar from one bird to the next, although the color varies. The first two pictures show a female Brewer’s Blackbird. She lifts her foot and turns herself around on a strand of barbed wire. Bird’s have terrific balance. It used to be thought that birds could perch on a branch because they had a very tight grip. But in fact their grip is often loose and the key is superb balance. Birds have one balance center in their brain and another in the pelvis. They are all miniature Simone Biles.

A male Brewer’s Blackbird is feeding on alkali flies at Mono Lake. The yellow eye gives him an angry look.

How does a Black-billed Magpie manage that long tail?

Black-billed Magpie. Bishop Creek Canal.

Western Meadowlark. The position shown here is used by many birds. One foot rests right on the end of a branch; it is as if the branch is covered by the palm of a hand. The other foot holds on below. For another example, see the first photo of a Red-tailed Hawk, shown above.

Yellow-rumped Warbler. Bishop Creek Canal.

Fun fact about Towhees. Apparently the origin of the word “Towhee” is unknown.

Northern Mockingbird. This spread-legged stance is common, even though it looks awkward. When they perch, birds are constantly balancing over their feet, with little effort. They can sleep all night on a branch, even in a wind.

Lazuli Bunting. Near Airport Road, Bishop.

Blue Grosbeak, male. Bishop Creek Canal.

Bewick’s Wren. These little guys hide in bushes and sing and sing; really noisy.

Bewick’s Wren. Gus Cashbaugh Lane, Bishop.

Rock Wren, trying to eat a grasshopper.

Rock Wren. Pleasant Valley Reservoir, Bishop.

A Violet-green Swallow. For some reason, she let me get very close.

European Starlings. These birds are famous for flying in large flocks; murmurations. Their toes seem strangely long.

Water Birds

Birds that swim and wade have distinctive feet. A female Mallard has large webbed feet for swimming and wading. She has three forward toes, joined by webbing. And a rear-facing toe that is very small.

Female Mallard. Bishop City Park. Male in background.

Mallard ducklings already have big feet. Instead of a large rear-pointing toe, they have a short pointed toe. This is their remnant of the big toe, the hallux. You can see this toe in the duckling on the left.

A Common Merganser is shouting at a male Mallard. Both of them have a stubby hallux pointing to the rear. Why do both have orange-red feet?

Common Merganser, Mallards. Bishop City Park.

A Wood Duck is a strange sight up in tree. They are called Wood Ducks because they have adapted to living in trees; but it still looks funny. The webbed feet wrap partly around the branch.

Wood Duck, male. Gus Cashbaugh Lane, Bishop.

The American Coot has lobes on the side of its toes, instead of webbing. These lobes help with paddling. Big green feet.

The webbed foot of a Tundra Swan is enormous.

Tundra Swan. Klondike Lake, near Big Pine CA. (Foreground bird is a Greater White-fronted Goose.)

A Great Blue Heron lifts its giant foot and then hides it in its belly feathers. You can still see a little bit of a toe in the second photo. Roberta and I were walking in the early morning; so dark that we almost walked into this bird.

The foot of a Great Egret is gigantic.

The Black-Crowned Night Heron is a wading bird with big feet. I think these lovely birds look like a colorful football. I wish I could see them more often, but they hunt at night; our schedules do not overlap much.

Black Crowned Night Heron. Buckley Ponds.

The American Avocet has nearly translucent legs and feet. This bird looks very full of itself.

The Black-necked Stilt looks like a cartoon bird. Seriously, pink legs? Remember, everything below the backwards “knee” is actually the foot.

A young California Gull perches at the Bishop City Park. Note the short, spiky toe at the back of the “foot.”

Young California Gull. Bishop City Park.

A Snowy Egret wears yellow socks.

Miscellaneous Birds

A Mexican Jay in Big Bend National Park, Texas, grasps the sharp spine of a Harvard Agave. These spines are seriously dangerous — very sharp and strong. But the Jay can deal with it.

Mexican Jay. Big Bend National Park, Texas.

This Blue-footed Booby (yes, real name) was photographed in the Galapagos Islands by my friend Bart O’Brien in 2023. Nice photo of a great bird! I’ve seen these birds when kayaking in Baja, but I have no photos of them.

Blue-footed Booby. Galápagos Islands. Bart O’Brien photo.

Bart brought home a Booby as a present for me. I was going to let it free at the Buckley Ponds near Bishop. But Bart had to hide this gift from customs and sadly it was strangled by a pair of socks in his luggage. I had it stuffed and mounted in my yard.

Feet in Flight

In the air, the legs of a bird are less than useless. They add weight and create air resistance. For a bird trying to travel, it makes sense to abandon its feet and rent a new pair when it lands. In flight, birds copy the approach of a jet airplane. They fold up their landing gear into an aerodynamic position, then lower it on return to earth.

The Bald Eagle shows the strategy most used by raptors; fold up the feet and stow them out of the way, under the tail feathers.

The Red-tailed Hawk uses the same method, although the stowage below the tail is a bit sloppy in the photo below.

A Northern Harrier will often let its feet hang down a bit. This bird flies low, finds its victims, and suddenly drops. So high speed is often not important and having the feet ready to grasp an unsuspecting mouse is handy.

Northern Harrier, female. Buckley Ponds.

A House Finch shows perfect technique, quickly stowing the landing gear for flight.

A Western Meadowlark brings up its feet quickly after take-off.

Western Meadowlark. Gus Cashbaugh Lane, Bishop.

A Great Blue Heron has no place to hide its legs and feet. They are just too long. So it lifts the legs up and hold the toes out to minimize drag in the air. Sort of like an airplane dragging the luggage behind.

Several other wading/swimming birds also drag their feet behind them, raised up as best they can.

White-faced Ibis. Owens Lake. Sierra in background.

American White Pelicans can stow their big orange feet under their tail feathers. The ones shown below were part of a large flock flying in front of the White Mountains. These birds have 9-foot wingspans and weigh 16 pounds. They are the biggest North American bird, after the California Condor. Watching them cruise through the Owens Valley is a terrific sight.

A Greater White-fronted Goose does a fine job of hiding its webbed feet under the tail.

Greater White-Fronted Goose. Klondike Lake, Big Pine.

A Common Merganser has bright orange-red at both ends.

Common Merganser. Pleasant Valley Reservoir, Bishop.

Mallards tuck up their webbed feet.

Mallards. Male on left, female right. Bishop Creek Canal.

The feet of a Common Tern are tiny — you can barely see them in the photo below.

Landing

Bird toes have to be tough. They contact rough wood, barbed wire, dirt, and rock. Every day they absorb the shock of landing, over and over. Here are some landing photos.

An Osprey lands on a nest at Mono Lake. Note that both legs have bands on them. They look like handcuffs.

Preening and Scratching

Birds use their feet to manage their feathers and to scratch themselves. The first photo shows a Bald Eagle that had dirt and vegetation on its beak and head. She is trying to clean up.

Violet-green Swallow scratching itself.

Prairie Falcon scratching. Putting those talons right near an eye looks hazardous.

Northern Mockingbird scratching and going nuts. Why?

Owl scratches near its face.

Mating and Courtship

A male bird mounts the back of the female, so of course the feet are involved. Below we see a pair of Cooper’s Hawks. She has her right foot wrapped around a dead bird, probably an Eurasian Collared-Dove. The male Hawk has to take care not to hurt her with his talons.

California Gulls mating at Owens Lake. Get a room!

A male (grey color) and female (brown) Northern Harrier were hunting back and forth over the Buckley Ponds. Suddenly they flew up, displaying their talons toward each other. This looks like aggression, but it is actually a form of courtship display. A split-second later they flew apart and resumed the hunt.

Northern Harriers. Female above, male below. Buckley Ponds.

I saw two Bald Eagles high up and started shooting pictures. They were juveniles, maybe three years old. At first they flew side by side, but then one flew upward, rolled on its back, displayed its talons, and then completed the roll to an upright position. The other Eagle braked, hovered, and held out its talons. This is a courtship display. I was lucky to see this.

Ice and Snow

Birds can get frostbite, but that is rare. Their toes contain bone, tendons, only a few nerves and blood vessels, no muscles, and a tough outer sheath. Apparently their feet tolerate cold and heat well. Below we see Coots on ice. When the Buckley Ponds freeze, Coots lose their watery protection and they are cut off from food. Fortunately for Coots, the freezes are usually short.

A male California Quail hunts for food in the snow near Dixon Lane, north of Bishop.

California Quail, male. Dixon Lane, Bishop.

Hovering

When a bird hovers, its feet can be useful in the air. The bird lets the feet hang down to catch the wind and slow their forward speed. Birds often hover to hunt.

White-tailed Kites at the California coast, hunting over the headlands. The first photo shows a creature that looks like a white demon.

Northern Harrier (male) at the coast near Fort Bragg. The coastal meadows have lots of squirrels, highly valued by these hawks.

A Swainson’s Hawk hunting over a meadow in Yellowstone National Park.

Swainson’s Hawk. Yellowstone National Park.

Red-tailed Hawk hovers over a field near Bishop.

A Black-throated Hummingbird takes off near Bishop. This is true hovering; all the other photos show birds that can only “hover” by flying into a breeze.

Black-throated Hummingbird. Green Gate Road.

A Belted Kingfisher hovers at the Buckley Ponds The bird had just dived into the water and I think the hovering, which involved a lot of wing-flapping, was mostly to get rid of water on its feathers.

Aggression

Birds can attack with beaks or feet. First we see a Red-winged Blackbird using its feet to attack a Red-tailed Hawk.

Red-tailed Hawk, Red-winged Blackbird. Airport Road.

Below, a Red-winged Blackbird attacks a Swainson’s Hawk. The Hawk’s eye looks strangely blue because it is covered by the nictitating membrane. The Hawk can see through this membrane, but it helps protect the eye.

Swainson’s Hawk, Red-winged Blackbird. Airport Road.

Last, a Blackbird attacks a Raven. The Blackbird is using its feet. Why can’t birds be friends?

Common Raven, Red-winged Blackbird. Buckley Ponds.

Eating and Hunting

A Hairy Woodpecker uses its feet to climb and hang on to a tree limb, while hunting for bugs.

A Bald Eagle uses its feet to hold down a Double-crested Cormorant, while the beak tears apart the victim.

Bald Eagle eating Double-crested Cormorant. Pleasant Valley Reservoir, Bishop.

A Bald Eagle in the air bites into something it is holding. The bird may be snacking on the go. Or using its beak to kill a victim that is still struggling. Earlier I mentioned that bird toes use a mechanism similar to a zip tie, so the bird can easily hold prey that may be struggling or slippery.

A Bald Eagle in a tree, shown below, has blood on both the beak and the toes. The Eagle killed a Snow Goose at the Buckley Ponds. Then it tore the Goose apart and ate most of it in less than an hour, leaving a pile of feathers and bones. A Northern Harrier stole part of the meat, as did the Red-tailed Hawk shown in the next photo.

Red-tailed Hawk with part of a Snow Goose clutched in its talons. Note feathers on beak. And blood.

In the next three photos, a Red-shouldered Hawk tears apart a rodent (Norway Rat?) near the Methodist Church in Bishop.

A female Cooper’s Hawk is in a tree in downtown Bishop. She is clutching her kill, probably a Eurasian Collared-Dove. She is calling out to her mate, who soon will arrive for sex and a meal.

A Northern Harrier is carrying a rodent. You can see the tail.

The Osprey below plunged into the Pleasant Valley Reservoir and caught a trout. The bird then rocketed along the shore. Osprey’s have spiked scales on their toes to help them hold a slippery fish. They carry the fish with the head pointed forward, to reduce air resistance.

Osprey and trout. Pleasant Valley Reservoir.

(There is a technical aspect to the Osprey photo that I will describe. The lake was still in morning shadow and I was using a shutter speed of 1/2000 second, to prevent blurring due to motion. The low light resulted in a high ISO (6400) which produced a grainy (noisy) looking photo. But modern Lightroom software allowed me to reduce the noise in the photo by smoothing out the color changes from one pixel to the next. The result is a better picture. Digital cameras and software keep making clever improvements to produce better images.)

A story about bird feet: In 1965 I helped start a weekly newspaper, The Southern Courier, in Alabama. We covered news about civil rights and the Black community, stories that were not in the local press. Part of my job was to help with distribution, which led me Andalusia where William Shakespeare (yes, that was his name) was our local distributor. He was born to poor Black farmers around 1930 and grew up with his siblings in a small home with a dirt floor. His family could not afford to waste food, so when he was the youngest, he was given the chicken feet. He recalled, with a smile, that he was probably three years-old before he realized there were chicken parts other than feet. Mr. Shakespeare now owned an excellent fried chicken restaurant with a small dining room. He vowed to never eat chicken feet again.

Great Horned Owl – the silent hunter

In their book about Sierra Nevada birds, Beedy and Pandolfino wrote: “Eagles may get all the press, but Great Horned Owls are really the top predator of the North American bird world. They feed primarily on rodents and rabbits but will kill almost any animal they can carry, including birds, snakes, fish, and even animals other predators avoid completely, like porcupines and skunks. They can fly away with prey as much as three times their own weight and are known to kill house cats, small dogs, geese, and Great Blue Herons on occasion.”

Roberta and I have seen Great Horned Owls near Bishop at the Bishop Creek Canal, Airport Road, and the Buckley Ponds. One reliable location is a dirt road that branches off Dixon Lane. The road is lined with cottonwoods and owls sometimes raise their young there. In January or February, a pair of owls will occupy a nest that was built by Red-tailed Hawks. Eggs arrive in March and babies appear in April. Two months later the fledglings are learning to fly. We have seen from 1 to 4 baby owls in the spring. Dozens of people walk this road every day, often with dogs, but the owls still like the location. This year there were 4 fledglings and I was able to collect some photos.

An adult Great Horned Owl is almost 2 feet long, has a wing-span of 3.5 feet, and weighs 3 pounds; a little bigger than a Red-tailed Hawk. In daytime, the owls sit on the ground or branches and blend in with surrounding trees. At night they use incredible hearing and eye-sight to hunt.

When a bird flies through the air, the feathers create turbulence that produces sound. You can sometimes hear a whooshing noise when a large flock of Phalaropes or Blackbirds flies past. When a Common Raven flies nearby, up to 100 feet away, I often hear the sound of each wing-beat. The bird is constantly surrounded by this noise when flying. Most owls, however, use their ears to locate prey in the dark. These night hunters have evolved special feathers that smooth the airflow and muffle the sound of the wing slicing the air. Silent flight enables an owl to locate faint sounds that give away the victim’s position. The other night creatures do not hear the danger until it is too late.

Adult Owl Portraits

Below are photos of a typical owl, hiding in shadow behind branches. This is frustrating; it makes me want to carry hedge clippers so I can get a good photo. To find an owl, Roberta and I use camera or binoculars to study shaded areas. Often we spot an “owl” that turns out to be a stump or branch. One day we could not find an owl that we were sure was there; until we looked up and realized it was sitting on a branch just 4 feet above Roberta’s head.

There are two owls in this picture. Can you find them?

Sometimes adults are easy to spot. This seems to be especially true in early morning, when they are sitting with fledglings. Here are a few adult portraits.

The feathers are the same color as the tree bark.

Look closely at the “horns” in the picture above. They are just feathers. They have nothing to do with hearing. Some authors suggest they help with camouflage.

Adult owl on nest. Why does she appear to have red eye-shadow?

Fledgling Owl Photos

The youngest fledglings look ridiculous. They have white feathers and no “horns.” In just a few months they start to look like adults. By fall they go off to live on their own. Here are pictures of babies, starting with the youngest:

The white-feathered fledgling has blood on its mouth from a recent meal.

“Horns” start to appear. Feathers on legs and toes.

No “horns” yet. White feathers still on head and feet.

Left foot seems to show 3 toes in forward position.

Siblings. The owl in shadow looks older.

The “X” feet

Most birds have 4 toes; 3 point forwards, 1 points back. This is true of hawks, herons, sparrows, etc. But owls have one toe that can point forwards or backwards. When that toe points to the rear, their feet look like a large “X.” See the photos below. Having a powerful grip and sharp talons is useful for grabbing squirming prey. But other predator birds do not have this “X” formation; birds with this kind of “X” foot include cuckoos, woodpeckers, and parrots.

Same owl shows two toes pointing forward on both feet. Sharp talons.

Outdoor dining

The next section is R rated for violence, blood, and atrocious table manners. When owls catch prey, they carry it back to their daytime hiding area, so they can eat in peace. They dismember the body, often decapitating the victim. Next they choke down large chunks. Photos below show a fledgling that cuts a mouse in half and swallows the headless body. You can see the feet and tail sticking out of owl’s mouth. The faint-of-heart should skip these photos.

Siblings. The lower owl is having breakfast.

Sometimes I like to daydream about being born-again as a bird and having the power of flight. Photos like those above just kill those dreams.

Three short owl anecdotes:

1. Just after Christmas 2009, I did a loop hike in Death Valley with three friends. One morning we were walking on a dirt road which had a few inches of snow. Dan Ward, who sees things that I miss, pointed out that every 100 feet or so, there were rodent tracks and nearby feather marks. An owl had been hunting mice and it probably missed a few kills. Then Dan found a spot with similar markings and drops of blood in the snow; a mouse did not live to see the sunrise.

2. In 1985 I was leaving Kings Canyon National Park to get home to Visalia. It was late, the narrow paved road was pitch black. As my headlights came around a curve, the beams illuminated a Great Horned Owl descending over a mouse. The mouse changed direction at the last moment and the owl missed. This was a 2-second Nature Channel moment. The only thing missing was David Attenborough saying “The owl went hungry, but the mouse lived to see another day.”

3. Roberta and I like to walk; I carry a camera and often she spots a bird. We still haven’t learned to communicate well, partly because we both get too excited. We are not yet a well-oiled machine. In February of 2024, we were walking on the grassy headlands above the ocean near Fort Bragg, California. Roberta spotted a small owl in the grass just a dozen feet in front of us and she started yelling: “Owl! Owl!” I started yelling “What? Where?” The photo below was the result. We need to step up our game.

Mount Waddington — The worst night, the best day

I’ve photographed birds for 5 years. Previously, for decades, I spent time as a mountain climber/photographer. I’ve done over a thousand climbs and I spent years shooting Kodachrome slides on five continents. This article is about Mt. Waddington, my favorite climb.

Mt. Waddington is in the British Columbia Coast Range, between the Klinaklini and Homathko Rivers. Bad weather and the remote location conceal the peak; it was not discovered until 1925. At 13,186 ft, it is higher than any peak in the better-known Canadian Rockies. For a decade, climbers from the US and Canada attempted to reach the summit. The peak was known to climbers during this competitive era and it is featured in books about the history of climbing in North America. Two US climbers, Fritz Weissner and Bill House, reached the top in 1936. Many climbers today are unaware of this isolated area. This is a region of dangerous rivers, dense forests, giant glaciers, and grizzly bears.

Waddington rises 7000 feet above the Tiedemann Glacier

View of our route from where the helicopter landed.

The upper part of the mountain. Central summit tower is about 1000 feet tall.

The map below shows Waddington is about 100 miles northwest of Vancouver. To get there in 1980, you had to drive about 500 miles; first east on Highway 1, then north to Williams Lake, then west on gravel road to Tatla Lake, past towns with Russian-style churches, then south to the helicopter service owned by Mike King.

Our 1980 attempt

I learned of Waddington when I started climbing in 1967. By July 1980, I had 100 climbs under my belt, including Denali and big peaks in Peru and Asia. Chris LaRocca (then a college student) and I decided to tackle Waddington. We flew by helicopter to the Tiedemann Glacier at the base of our route. As the chopper circled to land, I saw a world of rock and ice; stunning, but intimidating. No plants, little color, no life. This was before satellite phones and personal locator beacons; if we had trouble, no one was going to help us. I considered asking the pilot to just fly us back out. But we stayed for 2 weeks.

I am in the blue shirt. The other guy is Chris. We both have zinc oxide on our noses. This portrait taken at the Plummer hut, after our time on Waddington.

The helicopter flew over this terrain. To get there on foot would be a nightmare.

Rainy knob is the low hill of rock and ice in middle foreground. Behind it is the Bravo Icefall.

For the next two days we weaved through the crevasses and seracs of the Bravo Glacier. Four Canadians died here in 1960, crushed by falling ice.

Bravo Icefall. Try to follow our track. Can you find one of our dead-ends — look in upper center

This was our high point — we gave up here in 1980.

Although we crossed the Bravo Icefall, we failed to get very far above it. We retreated, crossed the Tiedemann Glacier, and climbed up to the Plummer Hut. We managed to do three climbs from there.

We climbed this slope to the Plummer Hut, which is out of sight in upper right.

Plummer Hut, built by climbers, in the middle. We climbed Claw Peak, the rock tower on the left.

Is this cobbler? Or cheesecake? We were hungry!

Our 1981 attempt.

After our 1980 failure, we gathered more information and plotted a return in 1981. We invited Gus Benner and Joe Davidson to join us; they foolishly agreed.

Fine dining at White Saddle Helicopters. Gus mugs for the camera on left, Joe stirs his tea, Chris seems lost in thought.

We climb up to Rainy Knob. Note how deep my footprints are.

Telephoto view of upper part of Bravo Icefall. Long, diagonal gash in the snow near middle of photo is the bergschrund. We must cross this and climb to the ridge above.

I am trying to cross the bergschrund on the left. I could see way down into the dark depths of the glacier. Gus belays me at the right.

I’m up! Note the small avalanches coming down.

Our tents near Bravo Peak. Elevation. 9800 feet.

The Worst Night

July 17-18. The worst night – pure misery. My diary notes (written July 19) describe this: “We left camp at 5:15am, hoping to make the top. The route winds up steep, crevassed snow slopes. By 10am we were at the base of the summit tower…. We climb about 700 feet of rock and ice, protecting ourselves with ice screws, nuts, and pitons…. At 5pm we made the bad decision to bivy [bivouac = sleep in the open]. Chris and I shared a small ledge. It started to snow heavily at 6pm. We and our gear were tied off to the rock. Chris sat on the pack and I sat on the rope. [In the photo below, we were sitting on the summit tower, to the right of the gap between the Tooth and the Summit.]

“What followed was the most miserable night of my life. It snowed steadily to 9pm, then fitfully to 2am. My wool knickers were soaked and so was part of my parka. The wind was the worst, bringing unbearable chill. Leaning against the rock wall was too cold, so I sat hunched over my knees all night.

“…Had the storm gone on full force all night, some or all of us would probably have died from hypothermia. I cannot express in words how agonizing the cold was. All night I shivered on and off, and my teeth chattered. I did exercises to stay warm and used mental games to pass the time. Whenever I checked my watch, only 15 minutes had gone by – I tried to wait longer, but the elapsed time was always just 15 minutes. Chris was the youngest and I think he suffered the most. He asked if we would die. I said ‘absolutely not’ with all the authority I could muster, but I doubt he was convinced.

“At 4am the sun began to lighten the sky and it was clear we would survive… the sun did not really warm us until 6am and around 7 we slowly stood up and moved about. No one suggested going up. We set up the first rappel and started down about 8:30am. I was still shivering. By 2pm we were off the rock tower. For 3 more hours we slogged back to the tents in wet snow. We repeatedly sank to our crotches and set off wet avalanches. Melted snow and drank the water, then slept for 13 hours.”

Telephoto view of the SE ridge, on left, and Tooth, Summit, and NW summit towers. Dusk.

July 19. We rested. Chris and I climbed nearby Bravo Peak. On July 20 we moved our camp to the base of the final tower, about 11,800. Because of wind, we built snow walls around our tents.

SE ridge, the Tooth, and Summit. Tracks from failed effort are visible.

Joe moving camp up the SE ridge. Bravo Peak in upper right corner of photo.

New high camp with snow walls. Route to the top lies near center of rock tower.

Mts Combatant, Tiedemann, and Asperity in background.

Summit. Route goes up the snow gully in lower middle, then into the shadowed rock cleft in center.

The Best Day

Diary entry: “July 21. Awake 2am. Ready to go by 4, but still too dark — we catnap with our boots on until 5:30. Then we start. As soon as we go my mood changes – I am excited, happy, and feel strong. Up to the notch between the main summit and the Tooth. Into a long rock gully. We are climbing on both rock and ice, wearing crampons which scrape on the rock. We protect ourselves with pitons and nuts in rock, screws in the ice. A chockstone blocks progress in the gully – we quickly overcome this by stepping up on nylon sling. Exit the gully on a ledge to left, then up and back right into the slot. Then the slope breaks back and we are on easier mixed rock and snow. I hear Gus call out – he is on top, 2pm. The top is a tiny snow tower; only two can go up at a time – are we actually standing on anything solid? Peaks stretch away for miles. Lovely sun. Then down and down and down, a mix of rappels and downclimbing with ice tools. At 9:30pm we are back at the tents. Water, food. I am smiling as I fall asleep.”

Chris. Note tents above his helmet. Bravo Peak in upper left.

Gus and Joe. Chockstone above Gus’s orange helmet.

The Tooth. We are almost level with its summit.

I am on top. Gus and Joe are just below, starting descent. Our tents are on snow above their heads.

Chris joins me on top. A happy fellow. The Tooth is below his right elbow.

Chris rappels. Note crampons on his feet.

Rappel to the bergschrund. Avalanche debris below.

Aftermath

We hiked up to the Plummer Hut and climbed additional peaks (Heartstone, Dentiform, Serra III).

Hut on left, Bravo Peak in middle, Waddington in cloud on right.

Serra III; highest point near middle. Gus and I climbed this.

Serra III from Tellot Glacier. Route goes to snow notch on left, then right up ridge.

Gus coming up Serra III. My boot is in lower left.

American Kestrel: Colorful Killer

Kestrels are tiny falcons, just 9” long with a wingspan of 22”, weight 4 oz. When perched, they can be mistaken for a Dove, a Shrike, or even a Blackbird. I did not start to identify Kestrels until I bought a telephoto lens and started collecting pictures in 2020. Thanks to the camera, I now realize that the Bishop area is infested with American Kestrels. They hang out on trees near fields and sagebrush flats. They like to stand on naked branches, from which they hunt insects, lizards, mice, and small birds.

Like other falcons, Kestrels have pointed wings, dark eyes, and a facial “mustache.” Their tails are flashy red. They appear to have “eyes” in the back of their heads, thanks to black feathers that form dark circles. The males have blue-gray wings, orange-brown backs with black horizontal dashes, and black spots on their white chests. A blue-orange, white-black combo. Females have a rufous back with horizontal black stripes. Their wings are colored like their backs and they have brown vertical streaks on their white chests. These little carnivores stand out for their gaudy feathers.

Falcons have short beaks that are sharply hooked. The beaks have a “tooth” that is used to sever the spine of their prey. They have big feet and long toes for striking their quarry. They may hold the victim with their talons, tearing it apart with their beaks.

Portraits of Male Kestrels

I will start with photos of male Kestrels. All these pictures were taken in the Bishop area near the Bishop Creek Canal, Airport Road, and the Buckley Ponds. The first image shows the black “mustache” that drops below the eye. Note the short, hooked beak. Black markings are on the back. The primary wing feathers cover most of the tail. The bird is looking over its shoulder, a come-hither look that is common for Kestrels.

The next five photos show a Kestrel near the Buckley Ponds. The lighting was particularly attractive that morning.

The next photo shows the “mustache” of black color below the eyes.

In the next image the bird shakes itself. This cleans the feathers of dust and dirt.

Hooked beak. Tail longer than wing feathers.

One foot on end of branch, the other lower down. Common pose.

One of my favorite images is below. The bird’s body is outlined by the dead branches.

Female on left, male on right. A mating couple? Siblings?

Same bird as the previous picture. Good view of the fake “eyes” on back of head.

Sometimes the young birds hang with their parents. Here are two females and a male. Family?

Portraits of Female Kestrels

Flight

Most falcons are built for speed. Not this bird. It can fly at 30 mph, but generally is lazy and takes its time. It is perfectly happy to eat grasshoppers, so there is no reason to rush about.

Female lands. The spots in air are from cottonwood trees or bugs.

Male below seems to be lost in thought. Female approaches. At first she looks threatening, but she is just trying to land.

Below a male lands. Then he staggers about trying not to overshoot the branch. Wings and tail wave about. This balancing act is common for these birds, as if it is hard for them to judge their final speed.

Female pivots to her right to launch from branch.

Hovering

Sometimes Kestrels will hover. They will face into a breeze and maneuver their wings and tail to keep their head steady, while they search the ground below.

Fun Facts

Pay attention. Some of this may be on the quiz.

First, Kestrels do not need to drink water. When kept in captivity, they can get all the water they need from their carnivorous diet. This makes it easier for them to live in the desert.

Second, DNA studies suggest that Falcons are not closely related to other hawks. They are related to cuckoos.

The third fact is related to defecation. If you are squeamish, you can skip this section. Kestrels do not build nests. They prefer to find cavities, such as holes left by woodpeckers. You have heard the phrase “Don’t soil your own nest.” Or, more crudely, “Don’t shit where you live.” Kestrels take this literally. Their waste, containing undigested food and a white paste of uric acid, is wrapped in a fecal sac, which is then evacuated. The bird can then throw this out of the cavity it resides in. Very tidy. Below, a photo sequence shows a bird evacuating and dropping this sac:

Other falcons

Three other falcon species can be found in the Bishop area. First is the Merlin, only a little bigger than a Kestrel: 10″ long, wingspan 24″, and 6.5 oz. They visit in fall and winter. Known for aggressive pursuit of other birds. Merlins come in 3 flavors: Pacific, Taiga, and Prairie. The photo below shows a bird with a faint mustache; probably a Taiga Merlin.

Much bigger is the Prairie Falcon: length 16″, wingspan 40″, 1.6 lb. Other birds should fear this hunter.

Prairie Falcon, Warm Springs Road. Note the talons.

Slightly bigger still is the Peregrine Falcon: length 16″, wingspan 41″, weight 1.6 lb. This bird dives from high above, can reach a speed over 200 mph, and can kill a duck or pigeon in mid-air by striking with its feet.

April 2024

During April, Roberta and I traveled the Eastern Sierra from Owens Lake to Mono Lake, collecting photos. I decided to create this month’s blog using a selection of those pictures, mostly bird images. I will group the photos by location and list the places from south to north.

Owens Lake

On April Fools’ Day, we got up in the dark and drove to Owens Lake to photograph the dawn on Mt Whitney. It was cold and windy, so I froze taking pictures, while Roberta sat in the warm car sipping coffee; smart woman.

The moon was at third quarter. The giant crater Copernicus is near the center of the photo below; this crater is fully lit and a white blanket of ejecta spreads out over a diameter of 300 miles. The crater walls are 13,000 feet high. Above and right is the crater Erastosthenes and the Appenine mountain range extends, from there, further up and right into the darkness of the terminator (the line between dark and light). The brightest area in this range is a feature that is white on its left side, dark on the right side; this is Mt Huygens, 18,000 feet, the highest lunar peak. So the tallest mountain I saw that morning was Huygens, not Whitney (14,505 ft). Lower in the picture, right on the terminator, are 3 big craters in a line. From top to bottom they are Ptolemaeus, Alphonsus, and Arzachel.

In the photo below, the tall point left of center is Whitney.

Below, a panorama shows, from left to right, Sharktooth, Mt Corcoran, Mt LeConte, Lone Pine Peak (12,944) in the middle, and Mt Whitney on the right. Lone Pine Peak looks taller because it is closer.

Mt Willliamson (14,375) is California’s second highest peak. The summit is on the left.

South of Owens Lake, along Highway 190, there was a bloom of Desert Sunflowers. The southern Sierra is in the background.

Desert Sunflowers. Malpais Mesa in background.

On April 1, American Avocets were on Owens Lake, sheltering from the wind behind an elevated road. Their bodies are facing north, but most have turned their heads to face south, away from the cold wind.

On April 20 we joined the Owens Lake Bird Festival and toured the Lake with expert bird photographer Martin Powell. It was a warm, calm day. Many Avocets were standing around on one leg. In the first photo, an Avocet was hopping on one leg.

California Gulls migrate from the coast to the Owens Valley to breed.

One Gull couple gets serious about breeding; the Gull on the right is saying “Get a room!”

Will you still respect me in the morning?

Least Sandpipers flying in front of the Sierra.

Long-billed Dowitchers have a dull red-brown plumage.

But when Dowitchers take off, they reveal intricate patterns in their wing and tail feathers.

The Dowitcher below is reflected in the lake; it look as if a wing is reaching up from the water.

Yellow-headed Blackbirds are found in the reeds.

A Snowy Egret, with breeding plumes, looks stately at first, but then shakes itself into a mess.

Buckley Ponds

The Ponds are just a few miles east of Bishop. Here a Double-crested Cormorant takes off by pushing on the water.

Great Blue Heron. White Mountains in background.

Two Caspian Terns streaked past, heading north; I was lucky to get a shot. This bird may have spent the winter on the Mexico coast. I photographed two of them at the Ponds in April of 2022. They were feeding there for at least two days.

An Osprey circled toward me, a turn that lasted 9 seconds; the camera captured over 100 images. Here are two of my favorites.

Bishop Creek Canal

This area, including South Airport Road, is usually reliable for bird pictures.

Western Bishop

California Quail, our State Bird, are common around Bishop. I find them hard to photograph; they usually run off quickly, so most of my pictures show Quail butts. But on Riata Lane, a male ignored me as I walked past.

The Sierra

Friends visited us in April. On the 25th we drove to Lake Sabrina at 9200 feet. Winter is still here. Fishing season opened in the valley at 5am on April 27, but it will be a while before fishing opens in the high Sierra.

Dixon Lane and further north

Just north of Bishop, on Dixon Lane, is a road with a green gate. Owls often nest here and other birds use the area. From Dixon Lane you can get nice views of the mountains.

A Cooper’s Hawk was present.

This year the Great Horned Owls put their nest high in a tree with a lot of leaves. This made it hard to get pictures: inconsiderate of them. Why does this owl seem to be wearing red eye-shadow?

A week later. There are at least 3 babies in the nest.

When you see a nest with one adult, the other owl is usually nearby. Finding them can be difficult, as they blend into the shadows of the Cottonwoods.

Pleasant Valley Reservoir

Double-crested Cormorant. Looks like it is sinking.

Double-crested Cormorant, preening. Eyes look like sewn-on blue buttons.

It took me years to realize that Beavers are common in the waters near Bishop. The most obvious sign of their presence is a newly-downed Cottonwood, with tooth-marks on the remaining stump. Sinuous marks from their tails can be seen on dirt roads. But getting photos of these creatures has been hard. The pictures below were taken where the Owens River flows into the Reservoir.

Convict Lake

We visited Convict Lake (elevation 7850 ft) on April 23. The ice has melted, but snow still lingers on the south shore and higher up along Convict Creek.

Mono Lake

In June, thousands of birds will come here. But in April it is pretty quiet.

Wilson’s Phalarope

These shorebirds birds are 9 inches long, have a wingspan of 17 inches, and weigh 2 oz. They mate in the Dakotas and Saskatchewan in May. The females lay eggs and promptly leave, heading south to the saline lakes of the Great Basin: Great Salt Lake, Abert’s Lake in Oregon, and Mono Lake north of Bishop. The males look after the eggs, but once the chicks are hatched, the males also head south. The chicks are born with feathers and find their own food; soon they also go south. The birds show up at Mono Lake from mid-June to August. Surveys at Mono Lake done 35 years ago estimated up to 80,000 phalaropes in a year, but survey methods then and now are pretty crude. The females arrive first, then males, then juveniles. They hang out for a month doubling their weight on brine shrimp and alkali flies — an unlimited, but monotonous, buffet. They use the time and food energy to molt, discarding their old feathers and growing new ones. Then they fly south – a 3-day non-stop to South America, about 3000-4000 miles. They spend the Boreal winter at inland saline lakes near the Andes Mountains of Argentina, Bolivia, and Chile. In spring of the next year, they fly north and do this all over again.

Below are photos of Mono Lake, where thousands of Phalaropes gather every summer. The first photo was taken from the Mono Craters, a group of volcanos south of the lake. In the foreground is volcanic ash and rubble. In the middle distance on the right is an island called Paoha. Most California Gulls migrate from the coast to this island in the summer, nest, and raise their chicks. In the far distance are the snowy summits of the Sweetwater Mountains, which straddle the California-Nevada border.

Mono Lake from Mono Craters. Looking north.

The winter view below, looking south, shows the Lake from near Conway Summit. The large road is Highway 395. The town of Lee Vining is in the distance on the right. Rain and snow are coming down from the clouds.

Sunrise from the Lake’s south shore.

Lightning started a fire just a few years ago. It burned off sagebrush and rabbitbrush from a large area on the Lake’s south shore.

Mono Lake south shore. South Tufa area on left, Navy Beach on right. Burned from lighting fire.

Another view of the burned area.

Below are pictures of Wilson’s Phalaropes floating, preening, and feeding. These images were taken from the South Tufa area of Mono Lake, which has easy road access and a boardwalk that leads to the water. The female birds have a black facial stripe that morphs into a cinnamon color on the back of the neck; very elegant. Colors for the males and juveniles are muted; a blah look.

Wilson’s Phalaropes. Mono Lake. Two bird on the right are females in breeding plumage.

Wilson’s Phalaropes are wading birds, but also happy swimming about.

Lots of preening here. These birds are molting, getting entirely new outfits.

The image above shows some birds feeding. All they have to eat here are brine shrimp, which are less than a half-inch long, and small alkali flies. They grasp brine shrimp or flies with the tip of their bills, then open the bill so that a water droplet containing the food moves up to the mouth using surface-tension. Two California biologists studied this with high-speed cameras and their article shows photos of water droplets moving up a bird’s bill from tip to mouth in 0.01 seconds. (Rubega MA, Obst BS. Surface Tension Feeding in Phalaropes: Discovery of a Novel Feeding Mechanism. The Auk: A Quarterly Journal of Ornithology. 1993;110(2):169-173.)

Until 2021, I knew nothing about this bird. Roberta and I visited Mono Lake’s South Tufa beach early on July 2 and found thousands of them at the shore, floating on the water, and flying about in flocks of hundreds, even thousands. We came back on July 6 and 13 to get more photos. The birds made little noise; just faint gurgling sounds. At the shore they seemed restless, either eating or preening themselves. The scene was one of the most exciting wildlife events I’ve ever seen, comparable to seeing animal herds on the Serengeti.

Below are two images of Phalaropes landing.

This is a different bird, also landing. As they come down, they take a few steps on the water.

Every few minutes a flock of hundreds or thousands took off, zoomed about (at speeds up to 50 mph) near the water surface or high above the water, and then landed on the water. Large flocks made a “whooshing” sound as they went past. The landings looked like a controlled crash; the birds spread their wings, put out their feet, and take several steps on the water before flopping down. Their bellies are white, backs are a mix of browns. So depending on their angle in flight, they make look white, brown, grey, or black. As they change direction, the color of the flock changes — a fast moving plume of black smoke seems to turn white. Sometimes a dark-appearing flock crosses the path of another flock that looks white.

We see the bellies, so these birds look white.

In some photos, individual birds are upside down! Does air turbulence from the flock tip them over? Or are they just banking a turn very hard? How do they avoid crashing into each other? As they land, they seem to touch at times.

At the top of this group, right of center, one bird is upside down. Feet point into the air.

The more you magnify this photo, the more birds you can see. Could there be a thousand birds in this picture?

Why do they fly about so much? I assume they are getting their muscles in shape for the 3000-mile trip to South America. They are training, just as a human trains for a marathon. Are they also practicing how to fly as a group? When they head south, they usually lift off at night, head for the coast, and fly over the ocean. I wonder what it would look like to see a flock pass overhead against the stars or the moon?

Who was Wilson?

Alexander Wilson (1766 to 1813) was born in Scotland. He moved to America in 1794 (age 27) in the hope of escaping poverty. He lived in Pennsylvania. Before his death at age 47, he published 9 books of bird illustrations; American Ornithology (1808-1814). His name is attached to Wilson’s Storm-Petrel, Wilson’s Plover, Wilson’s Snipe, Wilson’s Phalarope, and Wilson’s Warbler.

In 2023, the American Ornithological Society announced a plan to revise North American bird names. Instead of naming birds for people (all white males of European heritage), names will be revised to describe the birds. They plan to revise 10 names in 2024, including Wilson’s Warbler and Snipe. Europeans did not discover these birds; they were known to indigenous people for thousands of years.

A couple of additional photos remind us that Phalaropes are not the only creatures at Mono Lake. Roberta spotted this Desert Cottontail on April 2, 2024.

Great Blue Herons

Bishop is in the high desert at 4000 feet. Despite being in a desert, we have Great Blue Herons; lots of them. They have been seen at 260 feet below sea level in Death Valley and as high as 11,000 feet near Sawmill Pass. They build nests in Cottonwoods throughout the Owens Valley; rookeries of several nests can be found. They fish in streams, canals, ponds, and reservoirs. They hunt small mammals in fields.

Compare a Heron with a Bald Eagle. Both prefer fish. The Heron catches fish with its long bill, the Eagle grasps them with its talons. They have colossal wingspans; 6 feet for the Heron, 6.5 feet for the Eagle. But the Heron is a lithe ballet dancer: 4.5 feet tall, 6.5 pounds. The Eagle is a muscle-bound thug: 2.5 feet, 9.5 pounds.

I have taken thousands of photos of Great Blue Herons. They are common and big, making them an easy target. I currently (March 2024) have 674 saved Heron photos, more than for any other bird. A heron was the first bird I managed to photograph while in flight. Their large size and straight path makes it easier to get pictures. Most photos in this post were taken near the Buckley Ponds or the Bishop Creek Canal.

Pony tails.

Herons have pony tails. Technically, these are occipital plumes. Apparently these feathers are used for mating displays. In reviewing my photos, the pony tails seem longest around January, when mating starts, shortest or absent in late summer. Or maybe this difference arises because juvenile Herons lack long plumes. Below are a few examples.

The pony tail floats above the back. Note all the holes in the wing feathers.

Shake it, baby!

Sometimes birds give themselves a vigorous shake, fluffing their feathers into a disorderly mess. Why? Are they trying to shed dust or parasites? Below is a sequence of photos showing this shaking.

Here is another example of shaking.

Note that the legs look like carbon-fiber hiking poles.

Feeding.

Herons usually hunt near or in water. They may stand motionless, or move slowly. Then they strike quickly and grab a fish. They may hold it for a while, until the flopping stops, then maneuver it so that it can be swallowed head first. If the fish is large you can see a bulge move down the bird’s neck. In addition to fish they eat crustaceans, amphibians, other birds, and small mammals.

Heron stalking fish or frogs at Buckley Ponds.

In the sequence below, a Heron catches a carp at the Buckley Ponds. The time from first to last photo is 52 seconds. Imagine if you had to eat this way.

Flight.

Herons use big, powerful, rhythmic wing-beats and tend to cruise in a straight line. I like to think of them as lumbering aircraft, an avian B-52. At the start of flight the neck is extended. Then it may coil back onto the shoulders, but not always. With the neck extended the bird often looks awkward, as if it has no business being in the air. The big primary feathers at the ends of the wings often have tears and holes, like a car riding on bald tires. Sometimes an entire feather is missing.

Flight through cottonwoods. Yellow plant is rabbitbrush.

Wings and reflection form a circle. Sometimes wing-tips touch the water.

Neck still mostly extended. The head and legs hang below the body. Ungainly look.

Birds descended from dinosaurs, but I find that hard to grasp when I see a Bald Eagle. But I can easily imagine the Heron below is a dinosaur.

Heron cruising over Pleasant Valley Reservoir, early morning.

Portraits.

I selected a portfolio of portraits to show Herons in a variety of places and poses. Their eyes look like sewn-on yellow buttons. The giant toes and hooked talons are remarkable. There is usually reddish coloration of thighs, wrists, and shoulders. They like to perch high up on poles, branches, and bridge structures. I picked many photos for unusual lighting or colors.

Herons often prefer to stand on one leg. They will do this even on windy days. They will lift up one leg and it will disappear into the feathers on their belly. All birds will stand on one leg, but this is more obvious in large birds such as Herons and Hawks. Sometimes a few toes will protrude from the feathers. The one-legged stance seems like a tricky and unnecessary balancing act. Humans have balance sensors, the vestibular system, in their ears; this helps us stand upright with our eyes closed. Birds have similar balancing sensors in their ears, but have another balance sensor in their pelvis, so they can move their heads independently of their bodies while perched on a bobbing branch. To stand on one leg they must have their foot right under their center of mass. They have a knob in their pelvis which allows them to lean on and lock-off the leg they are standing on.

Roberta and I were walking near the canal, talking as usual. Suddenly this bird appeared out of the dark.

Legs appear to be made from carbon fiber.

They are often in fields, looking for mice or insects. Note one-legged stance.

Standing on right leg. Left foot partly visible in feathers of lower body.

Standing on one leg. Face and head very narrow. Giant toes and talons.

Wind pushes from the right, lifting pony tail and other feathers. Despite wind, bird moves on one leg.

Smoke from forest fires helped create this lighting.

Four Herons, two Double-crested Cormorants. Pleasant Valley Reservoir.

Takeoff

Gravity binds humans to the earth. We travel freely in two dimensions: back and forth, side to side. But our ability to move up and down is limited. We can climb a cliff or descend a cavern, but we must cling to a surface or tether ourselves with rope. Without equipment, our muscles can only lift us into the air for a moment. The ballerina, high-jumper, or gymnast is focused on landing even before they take off. Balloons, wingsuits, hang-gliders, Piper Cubs, jets, and rockets let us stay aloft longer. With a boarding pass, any human can fly faster and higher than a falcon. Yet clever engineering provides only temporary and complicated release from the ground. Our usual lives are earthbound.

Birds, however, live in three dimensions. Hundreds of times a day, herons and hummingbirds take to the air using only muscles and feathers. They make this transition as easily as we step off a curb. Some can fly for days without landing. Some sleep in the air, fight in the air, and eat in the air. Not all birds fly. Some birds near Bishop prefer the ground; Roadrunners and California Quail. But the essence of most birds is flight.

To photograph a flying bird, I often start with a non-flying bird on a branch, on the ground, or floating on a pond. I aim the camera and let it automatically focus and set the lens aperture. I take pictures of the perched bird. Then I wait.

If nothing happens in a minute, I continue my walk. But if the bird takes off, or seems likely to do that, I depress the shutter button and keep it down while panning the camera to follow the bird. This method sometimes captures the moment of takeoff, when a bird transitions from earth to air. This blog article displays photos of bird launches.

Bald Eagles appear at the Buckley Ponds from November to February. They come to eat fish and American Coots. Below are images of a juvenile Bald Eagle at the Buckley Ponds in January of 2024. The bird used a common liftoff routine: leap and flap. First the legs crouch and the wings start to rise. The wings unfurl as high as possible. Then the legs push off the branch as the wings come down to push on the air. If the bird starts high enough, it may dive to increase speed. Faster airflow over the wings produces lift, so the bird stays aloft using less energy. In this sequence of photos, the time from first movement to leaving the branch was one second. The time from the first photo to the last was 4 seconds.

By pushing off with its legs, the bird gains airspeed to produce lift. There is another advantage to a push; it lets the bird get clear of branches or wires before using the wings. This may prevent injuries.

Juvenile Bald Eagle takes off. Buckley Ponds. January 2024.

A Great Egret uses a similar leap and flap technique, pushing off the bottom of the Bishop Creek Canal with its long legs.

Another Great Egret crouches to start flight from the shore of the Buckley Ponds. The area between the eye and bill, the “lore,” is green. This color appears during mating season. The filamentous feathers (plumes) that trail behind are also part of mating plumage.

Belted Kingfishers are common along the Bishop Creek Canal. They don’t like my approach and the photo below shows a typical response. The bird always flies off away from me. For a moment it seems suicidal, plunging down. Then a burst of flapping lifts it up.

Red-tailed hawks push off hard with their feet, then a couple of wing flaps gets them into forward flight and the feet retract up.

Below are several photos that show songbirds blasting off from brush near the Bishop Creek Canal.

Northern Mockingbird. Gus Cashbaugh Lane, near Bishop Creek Canal.

White-crowned Sparrow. Bishop Creek Canal.

The Osprey below did not push off. It daintily stepped into space, like a person stepping into a jacuzzi. It fell for a moment and then the wings grabbed the air.

In the morning shade, a Ferruginous Hawk launches.

Ferruginous Hawk. Gus Cashbaugh Lane, near Bishop Creek Canal.

The next two photos show a Red-shouldered Hawk leaping from a tree. In the second photo you can see a feature of this bird; “windows” in the wings. The wings have long primary feathers near the tips. In the near wing there is a band of white color several inches from the tips of the feathers. This colored band is somewhat translucent; in the far wing, light shines through this “window.” Also note the landing gear retracting upward to streamline the bird.

Red-shouldered Hawk. Warm Springs Road near Bishop Creek Canal.

Great Blue Herons crouch, then jump up, as shown in the next three photos. For a moment it looks as if the Heron will crash, but powerful wing beats keep them aloft. In the third photo there are white specks in the air; those are mosquitos in the morning light.

A female American Kestrel has just left her perch. Her wings are rusty-brown. In the second photo, a male Kestrel has started to crouch and spread his wings. His wings are blue-grey.

American Kestrel (female). Bishop Creek Canal.

Lots of birds are at the Buckley Ponds. A Red-winged Blackbird uses the leap and flap method. These birds gather in the hundreds in spring and stay for months, raising their young.

Red-winged Blackbird leaps from Rabbitbrush. Buckley Ponds.

The Common Raven does not like to be photographed. They depart when I point the lens at them. This one springs from a wooden barrier.

A Wood Duck uses webbed feet to shove off the water at the Buckley Ponds.

Double-Crested Cormorants are the only cormorant species in the Eastern Sierra. This one vaults over the water and then shoves on the water with its webbed feet. Each push is synchronized with a wing downbeat. The second photo shows preparation for a push; I think the bird looks like a dragon from Game of Thrones.

Double-crested Cormorant. Buckley Ponds.

About three hundred American Coots winter at the Buckley Ponds. Their green feet propel them on the surface, splashing like mad to climb into the air. The whole operation is noisy and graceless. When a Bald Eagle swoops over the Ponds, dozens of panicked Coots try to slosh their way to safety.

American Coot. Rawson Canal next to Buckley Ponds.

The House Finch below leaves the fence that surrounds the Bishop Sewage Ponds.

A male Northern Flicker blasts off on South Airport Road.

Many birds, such as Kestrels, Kingfishers, and Harriers, can fly in place for a while, but they need some wind to do this. According to Sibley, only hummingbirds can truly hover. The hummingbird can flap its wings so fast that it just rises up, as demonstrated by a Black-chinned Hummingbird.

Black-chinned Hummingbird. Green Gate road off Dixon Lane.

A Steller’s Jay on McGee Creek starts to fly.

This Violet-Green Swallow is cleared for takeoff from a tufa tower at Mono Lake. These pocket-rockets are hard to photograph when flying, so I try to focus when they land on the tufa. Their rest breaks are short and they soon rocket off to hunt bugs in the air.