Monthly Archives: February 2007

The Problem with Ridgefield

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River otter swimming with its mouth open

If you’ve been following this blog or following me (if so – cut it out, I mean it, no matter what the raccoons are telling you), you’ll know one of my favorite places to visit is Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge. Ridgefield is about a half hour’s drive from our house — a hop, skip, and several jumps across the Columbia River in Washington. While there’s a lot to love about the park, it’s not perfect.

Its main flaw? I enjoy it so much that I don’t go exploring the rest of the Northwest like I should. I’ve been meaning to start hiking the Gorge a lot more, not to mention the local mountain ranges, but something always draws me to Ridgefield.

Take yesterday for example. I woke before sunrise and headed to the refuge, hoping to see the raccoons again. I’ve already set a record this year for “Number of times I’ve gotten up before sunrise to visit a park that isn’t named Yellowstone or the Tetons” — and it’s only February.

I arrived with the dawn and had just started onto the auto tour when I noticed a group of river otters in a side channel. This picture is one of those otters — I missed the focus a bit but it looks OK at web size. I’ll have more pictures to post later and tell more of the story then, but today’s post is about my favorite thing that happened yesterday — but I didn’t get any pictures, so I chose to lead with one of the otter pics.

After spending the morning on the auto tour and then hiking the Carty unit in the middle of the day, I returned to the auto tour in the mid-afternoon. Almost immediately I was sorry I had come back, as there were tons of cars there and a lot of people won’t let you past on the narrow roads. I’m glad I continued around, as once I got to the forested section, I found a nice place to park and wait for something in the channel to swim by — several hooded mergansers and a cormorant had been swimming earlier.

I heard a loud squeaking sound coming from behind and assumed a bird of prey had flown in with its prey, but the squeaking got louder very quickly. I looked in my rear view mirror and was almost speechless — a sasquatch was running towards the car! OK, not a sasquatch, but almost as unexpected: two mink. I figured they’d dart off before they got to the car, but instead they ran right past, literally just under my window.

The one in the back was biting the tail of the one in front, so I figured it was probably a mating ritual — that would explain why they were oblivious to my car. They continued on past, still making a ruckus, before darting off into the tall grasses beside the road. One darted back onto the road a couple of times before they both swam across the channel and out of sight.

I didn’t get any pictures as my camera had powered down and took too long to power back up — the 10D cost me several pictures yesterday. But it was fantastic to witness as I had never even seen mink before, and now got to see not one but two. And not just see them, but see them just a few feet away, and with such curious behavior. That’s one of Ridgefield’s real charms — not just that you get to see so many animals, but you see them up close and acting naturally.

So as much as I’d like to visit somewhere else, it’s hard not to want to return and hope to see the raccoons or otters or mink or maybe, just maybe, my sasquatch …

Wisdom

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Common raccoon in a meadow at Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge

What a FOOL I’ve been.

But I’m getting WISE. You hear that raccoons? I’m getting wise.

Only one day after expressing my sheer delight at seeing two raccoons at Ridgefield, I learn THE TRUTH. Read this article at the St. Petersburg Times and you’ll see what I MEAN.

Oh sure, I’ve visited Ridgefield many times and never seen them, but suddenly two show up? Skittish, afraid, like they don’t want to be seen? These two are surely just the ADVANCE STRIKE FORCE before the raccoons launch their attack on humanity.

Why didn’t I SEE THIS COMING? Why have I been so BLIND?

It’s probably too late for me, now that I’m on to their fiendish plan, they’ll come for me first — of that you can be sure. But if they GET to me — if this blog goes dark and they silence my voice — you now know the truth and it will be up to you to carry on, to bring the TRUTH to LIGHT.

Carpe Diem

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An elk bull at Yellowstone National Park

The photography forums around the net have been buzzing with rumors of new Canon equipment in advance of the big photography show next month. Amongst the rumors are dramatic upgrades to their pro cameras as well as to lenses, including at least some of the big telephotos.

I just bought my 500mm lens back in September, ordered a week before a trip to Wyoming and delivered with a few days to spare (thank you, B&H!). One of the worries about ordering such an expensive lens is that it will be upgraded soon after you buy.

With a trip to Yellowstone and the Tetons in the offing, and the waterfowl about to migrate back to the Northwest, it wasn’t a terribly tough decision. It’s a heavy lens and I wanted to get as much use out of it while I’m still (relatively) young and can move around with it. Another positive is that, even if the lens is updated, the older designs still tend to hold on to their value.

Regardless, I felt it would make a big difference in my photography and that I’d get a lot of use out of it — it has and I have. I’ve been using it a lot around here at home, but my first significant usage was in the Tetons and Yellowstone. Normally I wouldn’t recommend trying out new equipment on the road, but I decided to risk it this time.

Was it the right decision to buy the lens at the time?

Absolutely. I didn’t use it much in the Tetons (which I expected, I was doing a lot of long hikes there where the lens is a little too heavy). My 100-400mm lens, a favorite of mine for all the years that I’ve had it, filled in nicely when I was on the longer trails. I did get some nice elk pictures with the 500mm as well as other animals, but it was in Yellowstone that the lens really paid off.

From coyotes to black bears to elk, the lens proved it’s worth over and over. This elk picture is one of my favorites and was taken on my final day in Yellowstone, I left for home not long after the picture was taken. I have many pictures of bulls where they appear larger in the frame, but larger doesn’t mean better. A trap I see many telephoto shooters fall into is to place their subject as large as possible in the frame, regardless of whether it helps or hurts the picture.

This bull was with his harem in the field and had initially been quite close to the road. But the picture I wanted was to shoot a sea of browns: the brown elk, the light brown grasses, and the darker browns of the hedges. There was a cow sleeping out in the grass and I photographed her for a while, when to my good fortune the bull headed out to her and nuzzled up with her before checking on the other cows.

My luck improved even further when he stopped and momentarily looked in my direction with his mouth open. They say photographs never lie, but this one does — it might look like the bull is angry and aggressive and about to charge, but in reality he paid me no heed (I was a ways away on a bank beside the road) and he just happened to have his mouth open when he glanced in my direction.

And if Canon announces an upgrade to the 500mm, will I regret the purchase?

Not a chance. Even though I didn’t have much time for hiking the last few months of 2006, I’ve taken a lot of nice pictures with it and, if the upgrade turns out to be substantial, I can always sell this one and upgrade.

And if it isn’t much of an upgrade, or if the upgrade doesn’t come at all, I won’t kick myself over not enjoying such a fantastic lens. After all, when I bought my 100-400mm lens years ago, I worried then that it might be replaced soon, and yet Canon hasn’t touched it — and I’ve shot thousands and thousands of pictures in the meantime.

Seize the day.

Disbelief

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Two common raccoons in a meadow at Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge

I have visited Ridgefield NWR many, many times.

Dozens of times.
Hundreds of times.
Millions of times.

Okay maybe not millions or even hundreds, but many times. It’s one of my favorite places to go, not only because of the close views of the animals of the wetlands, but especially because you can watch and study their natural behavior.

All of my favorite animals of the Northwest aren’t there. My favorite creature, the rough-skinned newt, doesn’t seem to have crossed over the Columbia River from Oregon into Washington. While there are deer there, you rarely see them (I’ve only seen them once). Same for beavers — you’ll see their handiwork on the trees along the auto tour, but I’ve only seen them once.

One creature which I’ve never seen is one of my favorites: the raccoon. I’ve been at Ridgefield early in the morning and late in the evening and never seen them. In fact, I’ve rarely seen raccoons in my life. They’re common across the United States, sometimes tame, and even a nuisance in some areas — and yet we’ve rarely crossed paths.

Which is why I was literally speechless Saturday morning when I was driving around the auto tour and came across this pair of raccoons. I arrived at sunrise and had already been around the loop once and was driving it again when I came across them in this field, amongst the dew and cobwebs. Unfortunately they were backlit by the sun (which rarely came out that day) and my camera was having a lot of trouble focusing, but I was still excited to see them.

I have irritable bowel syndrome and after the raccoons disappeared into a hedge of trees, the IBS was kicking in and I knew it was time to depart for the restroom a little ways ahead on the tour. When I re-emerged, I noticed a few cars parked down by where the raccoons were and was disappointed that I couldn’t head back down there since it’s a one way road. There was a large bird in the trees which I realized was probably the object of their attention, and I consoled myself by thinking “The raccoons probably aren’t back, it’s probably just a bald eagle.”

Just a bald eagle.

Perhaps my love affair with these masked creatures is a little out of control.

Normally when my stomach gets upset like that, it takes the wind out of my sails and I head straight home. Not on this day, I was on a high and stayed until some heavy rains kicked up in the late afternoon. And luckily for me, I did see the raccoons again, in the same spot near the copse of trees.

I didn’t feel so good Saturday evening, and it’s a testament to just how badly I felt on Sunday that I didn’t get up at sunrise to try and see my newfound friends again. They seemed to be a mated pair and were wary of humans (a good sign), and I’m hoping they’ll take up residence at the refuge.

A New Love

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A New Love

I purchased my 500mm lens last year a few days before leaving for Yellowstone and the Tetons, but it wasn’t a snap decision, I had been thinking about getting one for quite a while. I had held off buying any of the big telephotos for some time, partly because of their heart-stopping cost and partly because they weren’t a good fit for most of my photography — I like to take pictures while I hike, and the big glass is too heavy for anything other than a short day hike.

After we moved to Portland, however, my view began to change. My home refuge, Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge, has an auto tour that lends itself well to the big glass — and indeed arrive at sunrise and you’ll see super telephotos poking out of car windows. I also wanted one for shooting harbor seals on the coast (something I haven’t gotten to try since getting the lens), and of course for places like Yellowstone.

I ended up going with the 500mm over the 600mm lens, mostly because it is light enough to handhold for short periods of time and to take on short hikes. This picture of a black-capped chickadee was taken at Ridgefield, but on the trail at the Carty unit and not on the auto tour at the River S unit. I had hardly photographed anything on the trail before, as most of the wildlife you see are songbirds and they are typically too far away for my 400mm lens.

This little chick-a-dee-dee-dee on the mossy tree branch made for a lovely environmental portrait and made me glad I lugged along the heavy lens.