Some lakes just look “birdy” and Little Cowhorn Lake is one of those lakes. Located in southeastern Itasca County (Minnesota) it is a rather large lake with no houses around its perimeter. Emergent rushes form large “islands.” Soon after I launched my canoe I saw the telltale silhouette of a tern. Black Terns are colonial nesters. They build flimsy floating nests made of pieces of bulrush and cattail parts. The idea is that the nests are protected from predators by open water and yet the nests float so as not to be swamped by waves but rather “roll” with them.

I knew the attack was coming, but I needed to quantify the number of terns and nests and eggs. The first wave of kamikaze terns came surprisingly close to my Tilley-clad head but after a while they just circled over me and scolded me loudly. I knew from experience that they would eventually settle back down and hover gently back onto their nests, and this was going to be my picture. I positioned the canoe so I would be shooting into the sun. If a tern hovered above the target nest it would be nicely backlit by orange early-morning light. And I eventually had three terns land. The last series I shot with the white balance set to “shade”  to warm the light to a dreamy orange-yellow. Several were just as I had hoped…wings extended, feathers backlit….and captured with a camera that only does 3 frames per second. 1/4000 of a second stopped the wings in mid flap. At home, I tweeked the color balance in Aperture.

Canon XTi, Canon 400mm f5.6, f5.6 at 1/4000, ISO 400

I had the privilege of spending time with a very responsible Great Gray Owl today. On a little used dirt road in southeast Itasca County I stumbled on a hunting Great Gray right next to the road. If I was a northern owl in search of suitable habitat that reminded me of my ancestral Canadian home (any assumption that this owl had its genetic roots north of the border is purely speculation on my part), then this would be a bog for me. Monospecific stands of Black Spruce rooted in deep sphagnum moss bordered both sides of the road. We (the owl and I) could have been in northern Canada for all we knew.

I parked well up the road and hoofed it back towards him with camera and tripod and flash. It was a quiet and heavy day; fog and thick mist in the air. As is typical of northern owls, the Great Gray hardly acknowledged me. I started shooting. He ignored me; Eyes wide open searching the moss with his ears. After a few false alarms he settled back and seemed to relax. His eyes drooped more and more until they shut. Instantly his eyes snapped open and he seemed to pull himself erect…It was a perfect imitation of a sleepy man in church during a long boring sermon. I could read his mind, “I’ve got three hungry mouths to feed back at the nest…I have to stay awake and capture dinner…No relaxing…The little lady will be upset….Why else would I be hunting at midday?” This scenario repeated itself several times before he flew back into the bog. Unable to fly, I fairly skipped back to the truck with dozens of fun photos of a responsible owl father, a rarely seen denizen of the North.

Canon XTi, Canon 400mm lens with 1.4x teleconverter, tripod, f6.3 at 1/250, ISO 400