There is a period between fall migration and hardcore winter when spotting wildlife along the rivers of Grant County wanes a bit. During this time, mule deer and whitetails are in the rut (breeding season) and elk are still in higher country. The colorful foliage in riparian zones is stunning, however. Recently, we headed out with our photo gear, expressing that our jaunt up the Middle Fork may produce little more than a very pleasant tour of the colorful autumn day.
Perched to digest a full crop, this Bald Eagle spent the day in the riverside Cottonwoods. (Terry Steele)
You never know for certain, despite the known trends, how any given day will produce photograph-able wildlife subjects or leave you “skunked.” This was our first road trip together this season. To say we were rusty at synchronizing our ability to spot, stop and shoot is an understatement. Either one of us would “spot,” the driver must instantly “stop,” and the camera must be focused to “shoot” from either side of the vehicle. Most of the day we were very fortunate to be spotting more subjects than expected. Terry insisted to be the driver this day, setting Kay up to do most of the shooting.Osprey, well-fed, in the Douglas Fir above the river. (Kay Steele)
However, most of our subjects were at the extremes of a shoot-able range – either farther out than desired, or too close to focus. Just the same, we were successful in finding some wonderful subjects in beautiful fall colors. The red osier (dogwood bush) is particularly beautiful and, after dropping its leaves, reveals the smaller birds we cherish – the black-capped chickadees and the ruby-crowned kinglets.
Black-capped Chickadee in red osier. (Kay Steele)Ruby-crowned Kinglet (Kay Steele)It is often difficult to see the ruby display of the Ruby-crowned Kinglet. (Kay Steele)American red squirrel (Kay Steele)
If there is an American red squirrel (pine squirrel) in the area, it will often find you, and scold! Terry spotted this one, silently perched and felt it appears to be an unusually colored one for Grant County, Oregon.
Birds of prey dominated the day. It was really intriguing to see two phases of the Red-tailed Hawk that we had never photographed before. Topping off our day on the Middle Fork, Terry photographed an adult Intermediate Red-tail, and Kay captured an unusually white juvenile Red-tail, lite-phase.
Red-tailed Hawk, Intermediate (Terry Steele)An unusually whitened lite-phase juvenile Red-tailed Hawk, with a full crop.
The work of this day is dedicated to the memory of our very dear friend, Nancy Kay Hiatt who passed away 10/22/18. She will remain an inspiration to help us focus on all things beautiful and good in this world.
I spent several days atop Steens Mountain (near 10,000 ft) this past week. The plan was to camp at Fish Lake, half way up the mountain. The goal was to shoot the Milky Way and the Perseid Meteor Shower. The latter event brought a tribe of millennial hippies to the area, however, and there was no way I could find solitude free of pet goats and a banjo player. I drove to the summit and had the entire range to myself for a couple of nights. Smokey skies (from wildfires) night and day obscured the stars but offered dramatic, moody sunrises and sunsets. I sure felt alone… but for the falcons and horned larks.
Our home place is a moist oasis in the drier region of the Blue Mountains in Grant County, Oregon. Terry has photographed numerous neo-tropical songbirds in our garden, orchard and yard over the years – including nesting western bluebirds, tree swallows, violet-green swallows, hummingbirds, spotted towhees, chipping sparrows and others.
Photo shoots with the Lazuli Bunting are happening, at last.
Two birds regularly seen here have been very elusive photo subjects, however – the Lazuli Bunting and the Red Crossbill. At last, this is the year that Terry has accomplished his goal to photograph these birds.
The Lazuli bunting has long been a favorite of Terry’s for its strikingly beautiful colors and form.
An example of flawless beauty.
It has come to our feeders in the past, but it has little tolerance of people and, therefore, quickly arrives and departs without offering good photo opportunities.
As we would expect, Lazuli Buntings get a lot of seed right off the ground.Until we looked at this photo, we did not realize that the Lazuli Bunting has blue tibia feathers (upper leg).
For several weeks, at least four males have been simultaneously working both the feeders and the ground scattered seeds surrounding the feeder area. We’ve noticed before how birds seem to feel safety in numbers, or maybe they keep their focus on getting their food with other birds competing for the same and, therefore, are not as distracted by observers.
A Lazuli Bunting is photographed with its neck fully extended in a state of high alert.A female Lazuli Bunting in breeding plumage.This is the first time Terry has photographed the back view of a Lazuli Bunting.
Whatever the reason, the Lazuli has offered Terry his long sought-after capture of wonderful bunting images.
The Lazuli Bunting poses briefly, long enough for a shot.
His quest to photograph the red crossbill has been sporadic.
This Red Crossbill, photographed at the feeder from our open kitchen window, was the only one Terry captured in a five-year stretch.
We’ve had many sightings of the species without a camera handy or without a satisfactory setting. Local nesting birds have come into the garden to bathe in the sprinkler while Terry has been busy at work. They have appeared consistently as they migrate in flocks feeding on the cone seeds in the tops pine trees.
Terry had forgotten all about this image (from three years ago) because he doesn’t like bird shots taken in dead pine needles.
Not until this year, have they regularly appeared at our feeders.
The Red Crossbill seemed gregarious with other bird species at the feeders.
Their colors range from yellow or orange to more commonly hepatic (brownish greed) red.
Terry waited a long time to get this perfectly posed Red Crossbill.Red Crossbills would not normally be in western juniper, but that’s the habitat where our feeders are hung.
At least nine types occur, and they vary by their calls and the size of the bill. Those with a large bill are suited for feeding on large cones of pine trees.
The crossed bill is designed to pry seeds from the cones of evergreen trees – in this case probably the Ponderosa pine tree.
The crossed bill can pry out the seeds of these harder cones. The size of the bill determines which tree the subspecies can feed upon. We see crossbill feeding on the Ponderosa pine trees. Smaller-billed crossbills feed on firs, spruce and larch.
It’s evident that black sunflower seeds are a good supplement to pine cone seeds.Kay photographed this female Red Crossbill on a mineral bank. Claiming the premium spot. she dominated the other crossbills.
It will be interesting to see if these crossbills return here next year. They travel in flocks without predictable arrival times or destinations, simply following food availability. You can bet we will be watching for them again – with cameras ready.
Introduction: Coyotes (canus latrans). Whether you love them or not, they command respect. Being canines, there is much about them that elicits feelings of familiarity and fondness for they are related to domestic dogs (canis familiaris). At the same time, we are struck by their raw wildness, which is no surprise for they are also related to wolves (canis lupus). In fact, they can interbreed with both (coydogs, wolfcoys).
In the American West, coyotes are considered vermin because of predatory attacks on livestock. Increasingly, in towns and cities across the nation, they are resented because they have adapted to live near people and may prey upon domestic pets. Truly wild predators in human habits are not a good fit.
When we view them in nature, however, we recognize them as a part of the web of life, a part that maintains the health of every ecosystem. They are a natural reality, and that makes them fascinating, beautiful, dreadful for their prey, and important for their natural role as predators. I’d hate to think of how overrun we’d be with rodents if we did not have coyotes in the mix of wildlife.
During my recent stay at Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, Terry joined me for a couple of days. While I was driving a truck along the narrow, graveled Central Patrol Road that stretches the 42-mile length of the refuge, his eagle-eyes spotted twitching coyote ears in tall grass. The pup was just across the Blitzen River from us and not more than 50 feet away. The setting sun shined directly into our eyes, making photographing the little tyke very difficult. With no time to setup on a beanbag window-platform, Terry handheld his camera and quickly got off just a few shots before the pup disappeared into the berm that bordered the river beneath.
Canon 7DMII, 400mm, F5.6 – handheld.
Given the pup’s very young age, and with no adult coyote in sight, he suspected we had happened upon a youngster venturing out from the den, so a plan began to unfold for the coming days.
Two evenings later, after Terry had returned home to Grant County, I returned to the coyote den an hour before sunset to prepare for the possibility of a repeat appearance of the coyote. As usual, I drove up, shut off the engine, concealed myself behind the big lens/camera opening of my window, didn’t (never do) get out, and remained totally still and silent. About an hour later, I was wondering if the long drive was worth it. Then the sun hit the horizon and two sets of ears appeared above the grass line. “Thank you!” This shoot did not last long, but it was long enough to capture a favorite image from nearly two weeks of visiting the pups from this den.
Canon 5DSR, 600mm, ISO 800, 1/250 sec, F10
Day three at the coyote den didn’t produce pups, but certainly added to the story. I was late to arrive because other photo subjects along the route demanded my attention. As I slowly crept up to the den area, I spotted Mama Coyote trotting along the top of the opposite river bank about a hundred feet from the den site. She was brushed up behind willows and as she spotted me, she did an abrupt 180 degree turn and started skulking back to the den.
Mama coyote sneaked back to the den.
When she was just beyond it by a few yards, she stopped and came right out into the open before me. It was an obvious ploy to get me focused on her. With no pups in sight, she stood before me and then trotted off up the river, expecting I would follow her. I remained motionless, without showing my face and waited in place. No pups that night. Somehow, she must have signaled to them to remain in the den. It was very interesting to note that for all the rumbling and tumbling of the litter mates, they made almost no vocal sounds near the den. Is that survival behavior hard-wired in them or taught by Mama, I wonder?
A week had passed since Terry discovered the coyote den; and this time not one, not two but three pups appeared on schedule just as the sun set below the ridge to the west.
Pups appeared distracted by something.
They seemed preoccupied, focused on something adjacent to them but out of my sight. They were also very aware of my presence, acting curious – not fearful. However, they were situated in a bit of a depression on the berm and I didn’t have a clear shot of them for most of the shoot. Nevertheless, during about a half an hour’s shooting, they offered some darn cute poses.
Coyote pups were in constant contact and motion – play-fighting, tumbling, chasing tails…
The coyote den shoots became increasingly engaging. Meaning, I began to feel that there was some level of acceptance of my presence – even though I tried hard to never show my profile, my face or make any eye contact. I believe most wildlife do not interpret an inanimate object like a vehicle (noiseless) as a threat. I had visited several times at that point, with no threatening consequences to them. They were aware of me, but knew I was not about to enter their comfort zone. The following visit confirmed this in a way I never expected. Once more, I was delayed and missed an early-in-place (6:30 p.m.) arrival. Other shooting opportunities developed that I couldn’t pass up. As I rolled to a stop near the den at 7:30 p.m., I spotted Mama Coyote and her young ones heading west into the meadow. They saw me, but didn’t sprint away – just kept moving along, as if hunting for field mice, voles, gophers or ground squirrels. It seemed like she was turning the litter in a slight arc back towards the river. I decided to position myself like always, across from the den, in case they returned before it was too dark to photograph them. It wasn’t long before the first pup popped up on top of the berm at the den site.
I was surprised when Mama Coyote made an abrupt entrance out front, right across from my window. The following moment was amusing, an experience I’ll recall often and enjoy forever. She looked hard at me. She looked at her pups playing above the den in the open. She closed her eyes as if going inside her head to think things over. Again, she looked at me, looked at the pups, looked up river, at me again, turned and trotted away.
Mama Coyote returns to den and spots photographer in vehicle.
That’s when the fun began – the pups were in my charge and ready for action. Click-click, click-click… giggle, snort, laugh, click, click, click. You can see what I mean…
Morning light from behind me should have offered much better shooting conditions, although I didn’t know if the pups would be present at that time of day. I had not been able to get away in the a.m. until May 17th – 11 days since our discovery of the den. There had been rain in the area, and the sky was still quite dark. What I didn’t anticipate is that the frolicking pups would be rolling in the mud as they chased one another in circles. All their guard hairs were wadded into wet clumps. It was a special kind of mud wrestling!
Muddy pup at play.
My time for photography on the Central Patrol Road was running out. I made one last trip to the coyote den on a Saturday morning with the hope of finding the pups on a dry sunlit day. I was not disappointed. By then, I knew their routine, and they knew mine. There were many levels of satisfaction and pleasure photographing the coyotes throughout that time. The photography was special, but in many ways, it was simply the means to experience deep nature, profoundly wild nature, in an intimate way. It can only be characterized as real joy.
Osprey, well-fed, in the Douglas Fir above the river. (Kay Steele)
Introduction: Coyotes (canus latrans). Whether you love them or not, they command respect. Being canines, there is much about them that elicits feelings of familiarity and fondness for they are related to domestic dogs (canis familiaris). At the same time, we are struck by their raw wildness, which is no surprise for they are also related to wolves (canis lupus). In fact, they can interbreed with both (coydogs, wolfcoys). 
