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Payday

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 28 May 2012 09:38:00 +0000

At last. This weekend saw me staring at a sandy hole for another 10 hours. Two very early mornings, I was in position at 5.15 am already, in anxious anticipation of events that would unfold in front of me. Or not. On Friday, at 6.15 I saw movement in the not too tall grass. A patch of wooly grey fur made its way through the grass and I knew it was a fox pup. I could not see the head or face, as the pup was still a tiny one. After a few seconds, the fur retreated into the safety of the den again. This procedure repeated itself around 9.15 and that was it for the day. At least now I knew there actually live foxes in the den. I was surprised though to see only one.

A well-needed sleep in on Saturday was followed by a second early session on Sunday. I had good hopes, but it was not until 8.30 that a fox pup appeared in my viewfinder. This time a little further to the back and more in the little open space available. With shaky fingers I pressed the shutter button, happy to have finally gotten the first shots of the season after all these hours of painstaking research and observation. With these in the bag, I could relax and enjoy the sighting of a young fox pup exploring a still tiny world in the morning sun. Again, I was surprised to see only one. I will definitely be back at the scene for more kiddy fox experience, but not before we have finished our holiday. Hope they (?) will still be there by then.

Fox pup; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/640s at F6.3 and ISO200; tripod and camo cloth

Lack of Luck

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Tue, 22 May 2012 07:22:00 +0000

Another week has passed and still no decent visual observation of a fox (except for one crossing the road in front of the car long before dawn). I spent two very early and very long mornings at a den that looks promising, but the only thing I got during 11 hours of observation was a glimpse of something tiny trying to get out into the open, but returning into the den immediately. Hard to judge during a split-second, but it seems the cubs at this location are still very small. That might explain the lack of prey remnants and feces outside the den. I'll go back this weekend and see what happens. Especially Thursday (Ascension Day) got me a bit frustrated, because a cold night yielded one of the most beautiful foggy mornings I ever saw.

For a short moment I was in doubt whether to go for the foxes or change into landscape mode. I decided to stick to the plan and head for the den. In hindsight of course a wrong choice. From underneath my camocloth, I saw a Roe Deer buck pass behind me in a semi-circle. I slowly turned around and envisaged a splendid image of the buck walking in front of the rising sun. But of course, as always during a spell of bad luck, the buck suddenly changed from walking into running mode just when he was about to walk in front of the sun. And slowed down again only a few meters further. So no buck in front of the rising sun, but at least I got to press the shutter button once over 11 hours of waiting.

Yesterday was the same cup of tea: I hoped for a nice sunrise over the local fens and headed out, got into the wading suit, into the fen, got bitten by millions of mosquitos, only to discover that the tripod was still at home. It usually never, ever leaves the car, but now it did because I needed the trunk space for something else during the weekend. Not too easily deterred, I got back into the car (after first getting out of the wading suit...) and went to look for Roe Deer in the fields. I found a couple and a treesome at different locations in nice light and nice settings. However...at the first location the Roe Deer were frightened by a passing car with a loudly shaking and clinking trailer, on it two metal hunting blinds. If I were a Roe Deer, I would have run for my life too. At the second location, two very loudly talking bicyclists sent the Roe Deer running very fast into dense forest cover. I must say I get used to the continuing disappointment, but still I would not mind it coming to a stop. The sooner, the better!

Roe Deer buck; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/160s at F8 and ISO200; tripod and camo cloth

Consolation Prize

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 14 May 2012 07:59:00 +0000

Rewind and repeat. Same sh#t, different year. From early April on, I spend a lot of time in the field looking for fox dens that show signs of recent occupation. Somehow, I never find one early on in the season, thus increasing the pressure by every passing week. Why? The pups usually explore the outside world for the first time around the end of April. About 6 weeks later, life is no longer concentrated in and around the den, thus enormously slimming chances for good photographs. In previous years, I had the same problems finding inhabited dens, but in the end still managed to find and photograph them. In the process of searching, my library of fox dens increased over the years.

So when I first went to look for them this year, I had very good hopes, with many wonderfully located (and previously used) dens in the area to check on. But now, 6 weeks later, I still haven't found any of the telltale signs. It may be a housing crisis, but not in the fox world, they all seem to have moved house.

All of the dens I know of in the area are discontinued, but the foxes must be somewhere closeby at a new location. I found lots of prey remnants (mostly piles of feathers), but no den. To illustrate: last year, I spent many hours at a den with prints, feces and prey remants, without any luck. Only to find the den they actually used back then (but not now) last week (and thus a year late), well hidden some 50 meters further into the heathland. I assume they must have made a fool out of me from a safe distance last year. All is not lost, as there are still a few weeks left. The pups might not be the cute little fur balls anymore, but adolescent fox pups are a treat to photograph as well.

With other subjects, I don't mind skipping a year, but fox pups are a serious addiction. Believe me, once you have seen them frolicking around the den, you want to go back and back again. So if anyone has a tip for an inhabited fox den around my area, please let me know!

I spent a few hours at the Kingfisher site and had better luck over there. To my suprise, the male was still busy getting the nesting pipe ready, the female checking the progress from a short distance. I had expected them to have eggs or even chicks already. Must be the relatively cold weather we have had over the past weeks. To be continued, with either foxes or Kingfishers.

Female Common Kingfisher; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/200s at F5.6 and ISO800; tripod and camo cloth

Flashed My Tits

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 07 May 2012 07:42:00 +0000

Something completely different this time. I have always wanted to try my hand at high-speed flash photography. Sure, it has all been done before (do a Google search for Stephen Dalton and be amazed), but there is something gratifying about being able to pull it off yourself. The best place to practise would be my own backyard, but somehow the birds refused to accept our nesting box. Until this year. A couple of Great Tits (Parus major; Koolmees) have built a nest and are commuting regularly to and from the box with grubs for their offspring. An ideal situation for high-speed flash photography. The birds use the same perch close to the box for their final descent to the entrance over and over again.

Such a predicatble flight path is convenient, as it offers you a lot of opportunities and good chances of getting the bird in focus. I used a wireless remote control from inside the house to trigger the camera. Warm, cosy and a cup of coffee at hand. Sure, I could have used an infrared trigger, but to be honest, there is not enough room in this corner of the garden for two extra tripods. I must say that it is difficult to get the timing right. There is a small lag between pressing the button and the camera and flashes firing, so most shots featured the bird already halfway inside the nesting box.

I set the ambient exposure manually: shutterspeed at 1/200 (max sync speed of my camera is 1/250, but some banding can appear), the aperture at F11 for enough depth of field and the ISO at 800 to be able to use the flashes at low power (and thus a shorter flash duration, which is important to freeze the bird). A flash at 1/32th power (flash duration around 1/15,000th) is the main light from front camera left and another flash at 1/16th power back camera right (a bit further away) serves as a rim light to separate the bird from the background. The background is illuminated solely by the ambient exposure. With gloomy weather, it is rendered very dark. Maybe next time I try to cover the wooden structure with a cloth and put an extra flash on the background.

It may be hard to see in the jpg above, but even at 1/32th power, there is still some ghosting visible: the flash freezes the bird, but the ambient exposure records it too (all be it vaguely), which results in some vague streaks in front of the bird. This can only be solved by further reducing the ambient exposure. Increasing the shutterspeed is not possible (already at max sync) so the aperture will have to be stopped down to F16. That means the flash power will have to be increased (increasing flash duration too, which makes it harder to freeze the bird), or the flashes have to be placed closer to the subject. Or I could use two flashes from the same position at lower power. Well, I am happy for a first try, now let's try to get more creative and/or find other willing subjects.

Great Tit in flight; Canon 5D Mark II w. 70-200/2.8L IS II; 1/200s at F11 and ISO800; 2 flashes, wireless remote control, tripod, cup of coffee.

Lost in Green

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Tue, 01 May 2012 17:18:00 +0000

Yesterday saw the whole country celebrate the birthday of our current Queen on the day of birth of our previous Queen. Don't even ask. I used the elongated weekend to do some much needed paint jobs in and around the house. And yes, I even painted one wall in our house orange. Not that I am a royalistic person, even on the contrary, but it seemed like a nice, sunny color for our expected second baby's bedroom.

Even though I had a lot of help from my father, it still was one heck of a lot of work. So not a lot of time to go out with the camera. Only Friday early in the morning, I was in the field.

I went to the fishing ponds in hopes of a good sunrise and possibly some backlit Roe Deer. None of those happened, it was a drab and windy morning, even chilly. I did find this male Orange Tip (Antocharis cardamines; Oranjetipje) perched on its host plant, the Cuckoo Flower (Cardamine pratensis; Pinksterbloem) and holding tightly to endure the stiff wind. A premature Queensday image if you ask me.

I gave up after an hour at the fishing ponds and used the remaining part of the morning to check on some fox dens that I know in the area. It appears to become yet another frustrating fox season, as like previous years I could not find any proof of recent activity. I will need last minute tips again, or so it seems.

Orange Tip; Canon 5D Mark II w. 150/2.8 macro; 1/50s af F4 and ISO200; tripod.

Wicked Weasel

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 09:38:00 +0000

Last Friday I spent the morning in a tenthide overlooking a patch of arable land. I was invited by a friend to visit the hide he had erected on his property to photograph Ring Ouzel (Turdus torquatus; Beflijster) and Common Partridge (Perix perdix; Patrijs). The tent was put up along a beautiful hidden hedge that houses all kinds of birds. Except the already mentioned Ring Ouzel and Partridge, the spot was frequented by typical birds of extensively used farmland, such as Stonechat (Saxicola torquatus; Roodborsttapuit), Yellowhammer (Emberiza citrinella; Geelgors) and Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus; Torenvalk). All these species (some of them on the Red List) breed on the property, a testimony to the management of the area, which is no small task for the owner.

After a relatively fruitful morning in the hide in a very awkward position, I went to his house for a well-deserved cup of coffee. On the way, the owner told me he had seen a Weasel (Mustela nivalis; Wezel) hunt for sparrows in the ivy that grows on the walls of his house. He had not even finished his sentence, or I saw a Weasel rapidly jump across the trail towards the house. A nice observation!

Enjoying the coffee in the livingroom, I watched the birds outside the window and again saw the Weasel, this time clearly on the hunt and not far from my position. I rushed to the car to get the camera and when I came back, the owner urged me to hurry. The Weasel sat some 4 meters from the window in an upright position, scouting the area for his (given the size difference between males and females, it was a he) next vicitim. I took 6 frames through the double-glazed window before he rushed off again. I was surprised the images were relatively sharp, probably courtesy of the lady of the house having cleaned the windows recently. Later on, we saw the Weasel perform his high-velocity scouting of the area several times more, until he went for the safe cover of a stone wall to enjoy the vole he had just found and killed. The vole was bigger than his head! Given the fact that the Weasel is a repeating guest and they should have baby Weasels right now, we have good hopes to photograph it again, and maybe even lure it into a nice position with eggs and other goodies that a Mustelid normally cannot resist.

Weasel; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/125s at F5.6 and ISO200; handheld through window.

Graceful Thief

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 08:53:00 +0000

A different environment for a change. The (elongated) weekend was spent in the coastal province of Zeeland. We had a wonderful little holiday at a pleasingly slow pace with lots of visits to the sea and beach and numerous stops for coffee and fingerfood.
Of course I brought the camera, as I knew the area features prolific birdlife, many species of which cannot be found in the area I live. Except the long lens, I also brought the wide-angle and my filterset, just in case the weather would be stormy, and no good for bird photography. We were lucky with sunny (but at times very windy) weather, so all I used was the 500mm.

I spent two evenings at a nearby site where a number of Short-eared owls (Asio flammeus; Velduil) use to hunt. Normally, they leave for their breeding grounds in the far north of Europe when spring arrives. Now, halfway April, we still counted at least four individuals hunting the marshy areas along the dike. An amazing sight to witness, these silent hunters gliding the air, peering yellow eyes constantly focussed on the possible presence of voles. Almost angel-like when beautifully backlit by the setting sun. Both my wife and little daughter were amazed too. Lets hope the fact that they are still around can be accounted for by them liking the area so much that they will eventually breed there.

One early morning was spent at a site near our accomodation where I had seen Marsh Harriers (Circus aeruginosus; Bruine Kiekendief) hunt in their typical swaying manner, wings in a broad v-shape, the previous afternoon. After a while, I came to the conclusion that the not that big reedbed was inhabited by no less than two pairs of Harriers, both very busy building a nest. One of the pairs had trouble with the meaning of the word 'territory', so a lot of chasing rivals was going on. The males were still constantly flying on and off with nesting material. I also witnessed the spectacular courtship behaviour, when a prey is transferred in mid-air, the female flying upside-down for a moment. The courtship was followed by several mating attempts. Too far and behind the reeds, so no x-rated photos to share. When these birds hover low over the reeds and bodies of water, all other birds either alarm or flee for their lives. Rather understandable, the literal translation of the Dutch name for these graceful arial acrobats being 'the brown one who steals chicks'.

I should end this travel story with the statement that I am rather proud to have achieved several decent flight shots of both the Harriers and the Owls, given the fact that I was severely handicapped by the almost absent AF and the slow 3fps rate of the 5D Mark II.

Female Marsh Harrier; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/2000s at F6.3 and ISO800; beanbag from vehicle.

Frustrated Mute

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Tue, 10 Apr 2012 11:24:00 +0000

Although the weather forecast wasn't that good, I had to try out the newly decorated floating hide. So I got up early last Friday and tested the waters. Well before sunrise, I had installed the hide and went up to my chest into the murky water. It took a while before the water temperature made its way through the neoprene wading suit, but when it did, it was cold! All in all, I endured for the better part of two hours. The Great Crested Grebes (Podiceps cristatus, Fuut) that I wanted to photograph kept a safe distance.

They are clearly not used to human presence and will have to become accustomed to the floating thingy. I resisted the urge to move closer to the Grebes and kept still among the reedbeds along the shore in hopes of them getting closer. They did eventually, but not close enough.

After a while, I noticed a family of Greylag Geese (Anser anser, Grauwe gans) consisting of two adults and five little chicks enter the water to my right. They swam perpendicular to my position towards the shore on my left. Halfway the pond, the resident male Mute Swan (Cygnus olor, Knobbelzwaan) suddenly got completely mad. He raised his wings in an act of agression and rushed towards the geese. He attacked the adults and almost drowned the chicks under his weight on the way. He must have chased one of the adults for at least 10 minutes, both across the water and in the air. I was in a good position to try and photograph the action. The 3fps of the 5D3 does not help, but I got some decent shots of the action nonetheless. In case you might wonder: the other adult and the five little ones made it safely to the shore and the next pond. The resident Mute Swan there is a nice guy and kindly accepted his newly acquired neighbours.

Greylag Goose and Mute Swan; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/640s at F5.6 and ISO400; Wimberly Head from floating hide

Fog on Fire

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 12:05:00 +0000

Recently, I have repaired my floating hide by giving it a new camouflage cover that better conceils me and my movements from the waterfowl. I had been dying to try it out and could not wait until my day off on Friday. But of course, after having watched four beautiful foggy sunrises from my office window on Monday to Thursday, Friday was grey with a drizzle.

I decided it was not worth the trouble of going into the floating hide, but went to the fishing ponds anyway to check out what kind of waterfowl was around and where they dwelled. What I heard and saw was promising to say the least.

I had the possibility to go back on Sunday, albeit for a very limited amount of time. Too short to use the floating hide, but long enough to enjoy a fantastic sunrise. Overnight, temperatures had hit the freezing point so naturally I had expected fog. On my way to the reserve, I could not see any above the meadows, but above the larger bodies of water, a thick layer had formed here and there. After a short while, the sun rose above the distant treeline and set everything on fire. Sure, I had photographed in foggy conditions before, but the difference was that where usually the fog is everywhere, it now had only formed above specific parts of the water and moved quickly because of a slight breeze. As a result, the landscape showcased a very dappled, mystic effect, with firy fog painted in places, but not so much it completely obscured the view. I set up with the camera perpendicular to the shoreline where the effect of the firy fog was at its strongest and only had to wait for something to swim into the frame. This Common Coot (Fulicra atra, Meerkoet) happily obliged, probably on its way to give this stunning sunrise a closer look.

Common Coot; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS; 1/1250s at F5.6 and ISO400; tripod

Pigeon Win

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 13:49:00 +0000

Yesterday, the winners of the German 2012 Glanzlichter nature photo competition were announced on their website. I am happy to announce that my image of two Wood Pigeons was awarded a Highly Commended in the 'Animal Pairs' Category. Congratulations to all other winners, amongst them of course a few fellow Dutchmen.

This is one of those images that did not take a lot of planning, but just happened. In May 2010, I had put up a tent hide to photograph Common Partridges (Perdix perdix, Patrijs) that foraged along some rough patches of wildflowers at the edge of an arable field.

Although the main focus was on the Common Partridges, I also kept an eye on the high stems of the Great Mullein (Verbascum thapsus, Koningskaars), that were often used by Common Stonechats (Saxicola torquatus, Roodborsttapuit) to hunt from. On one occasion, a Wood Pigeon (Columba palumbus, Houtduif) landed on the Great Mullein, which completely bended under the weight of the relatively heavy Pigeon. I decided to photograph this rather funny sight, and when I did I saw a grey blob approach fast through (well, not actually through) the viewfinder. I hit the shutter button without further thinking, and this is when the 10 fps of the 1D Mark III really comes to its own. Only one shot out of a dozen featured what appeared to be a second Wood Pigeon in a perfect landing pose. I consider this a last tribute to my trusty 1D Mark III, which recently found a new owner.

Wood Pigeon pair; Canon 1D Mark III w. 500/4L IS; 1/640s af F4 and ISO800; tripod from tenthide

The Confetti Incident

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 26 Mar 2012 18:21:00 +0000

A beautiful morning was predicted, so with good hopes I went to a tiny nature reserve with (very) wet grasslands. In summer, one can find orchids and lots of insects there. In early spring, it's a good place for True Oxlip (Primulia elatior, Slanke Sleutelbloem). I had plans to silhouette the translucent flowers against the orange of the rising sun. So I got up early (it was not yet daylight saving time) and drove the shortest route to the reserve. To my great dismay, the road was blocked because of maintenance and I was sent another direction. The detour to the reserve was so huge that the sun was already up when I got there. And when I finally found a suitable composition, the sun was so high that I could not get low enough to frame the flowers against the rising sun without digging a hole.

Also, the best of the orange colors had long gone. I made the best of the situation and made use of the dewdrops on the grasses surrounding the Oxlips. With backlit conditions and wide open apertures, all sizes of circles are formed in the out-of-focus background. In this particular image, it almost looks as if the Oxlip is a confetti canon, spraying its fun load into the air. No pun intended...

When I was finished, I was completely soaked. The grasslands were more wet than moist and I had been flat on the ground for quite a while. Instead of going home, I walked to an unsightly piece of (again) wet woodland. I looks like a patch of dead scrub, but when surveyed more closely, the ground is covered by hundreds of Wood Anemones (Anemone nemorosa, Bosanemoon). I found it hard to get anything worthwhile out of the session, as they are tiny, close to the woodland floor and surrounded by dense scrub everywhere. Moreover, the delicate flowers only open up when the sun is up in the sky, with harsh light as a result. It would have been much better to retry around sunset, the flowers being still open and the light being soft and warm. But alas, no time to go back, maybe next week.

True Oxlip; Canon 5D Mark II w. 70-200/2.8L II and EF 2x; 1/800s at F5.6 and ISO200; tripod

See no Evil, Hear no Evil

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 13:36:00 +0000

For the first time in ages, I had a full day at my disposal for photography. But as is so often the case, things (timing, weather) don't work out as expected or hoped for on those days. The plan was to photograph sunrise at a fen, proceed with Moorfrogs, go home for some rest and return for sunsets at the fens. The day started without a sunrise. There was a very thin layer of fog and the sun rose as a muted orange ball. No spectacular colors or light. And then, in just a few minutes, the fog took over everything. It was so dense it was hard to see anything, let alone photograph it. When the fog subdued, I was left with gloomy grey and cold weather.

There were no Moorfrogs to be found anymore. Of course it was too cold for them to be active, but judging from the enormous masses of spawn, their annual party had long come to an end so there was no need for them to show themselves anymore. Too bad I had no opportunity for a spare hour during the week. The afternoon was a matter of 'same story, different time'. Hardly any color in the sky and almost no warm sunlight to light any potential subjects. The camera was once again left untouched in the warm camerabag.

So in summary: a lot of time on my hands, but no images on the CF card. Only in the very early and still dark morning when I drove towards the fens, I came across a lone Brown Hare (Lepus europaeus; Haas) feeding on the juicy green grass in a meadow. It let me approach relatively close with the vehicle and was not bothered by my presence. I would have loved to get out of the car and flat on the ground, but there was a broad ditch full of water to be crossed. I passed on the occasion. I still like this composition with the hare unwittingly watching and listening in the wrong direction.

Brown Hare; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/13s af F4 and ISO1600; beanbag from vehicle

Plopping Frog

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 15:25:00 +0000

It's that time of year again. Last year I missed the spectacle of the male Moorfrogs (Rana arvalis, Heikikker) turning loud and blue because I was in Iceland. No travel plans this time so I really hoped the short spawning period would somehow overlap with the weekend. And it did.
From the local forester, I heard he had already seen 'plopping' Moorfrogs last Monday, so to be honest I was afraid I was much too late. But he had seen only a few and after Monday, the weather had been relatively cold. Moorfrogs don't like that, their sexual agenda is more or less based on water temperature. Yes, they like it hot. So I had some hope they had only just started and the best was yet to come.

Yesterday when the sun was out and the temperature was pleasant, I went for a stroll with my daughter and father through the moorland and kept an ear or two open for plopping sounds. I was surprised to hear a lot of Moorfrogs in an area I had searched in previous years without success. It seems all conservation endeavours (mainly raising the water level) now yield results. Late in the afternoon, I went back without my daugter and father but with a wading suit and a camera and spent the last hour of the day among hundreds of horny blue male Moorfrogs, plopping their froggy hearts out. I tried to get something different from the regular clean portraits and settled on backlight and a somewhat cluttered scene.

And of course, no matter how careful I thought I was, I again experienced that horrible feeling when the cold water (relative to my body temperature, because other than a Moorfrog, I happen to be warmblooded) finds its way into the wading suit because you lean forward a tiny little too much.

Moorfrog; Canon 5D Mark II w. 150/2.8; 1/50s at F2.8 and ISO400; handheld lying flat in water

Jewels of Spring

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 05 Mar 2012 08:52:00 +0000

With a slight flu having the better of me for most of the weekend, I for once did not mind to see the weather was greyish. I only went out for a very short photographic stint when I felt a little better than bad. Nothing spectacular, just trying to get something worthwhile out of a bunch of bulbous flowers like Snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis, Sneeuwklokje) and Spring Snowflakes (Leucojum vernum, Lenteklokje).

Apparently, that is not where my photographic strenght lies, as I usually struggle to take a decent shot of any sort of vegetation. I photographed handheld for a low angle that I could not get from a tripod and tried shooting through other vegetation for a painterly effect.

After an hour or so and with 150 shots on my card, I called it a day. Back home, only one stood up to the (ever higher) standards I impose onto myself. I think I may just need some more practise.

Snowdrops; Canon 5D Mark II w. 150/2.8 macro; 1/125s at F2.8 and ISO100; handheld

Pole Position

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 27 Feb 2012 08:50:00 +0000

After seeing a lot of beautiful images of drifting ice at the Markermeer and Ijsselmeer from other photographers, I wanted to see this spectacular happening of nature for myself. Only thing: it is a very long drive from where I live and I found I could not justify the expense of a full tank of gasoline. Fortunately, friend and colleague Andrew George had the same doubts, and by teaming up we could share the expense.
With a stiff wind blowing from the west, the drifting ice naturally was to be found on eastern shores. So we took a day off from work and had a very nice day of photography near Lelystad and Stavoren.

The icestacks had dimished from their original height of 7-10 meters to something more in the range of 3-4 meters. Most of them had muddy footpaths throughout from the herds of visitors from the weekend, so we had to be carefull with our compositions. Also, the surrounding water of the Ijsselmeer was no longer frozen. So no nice structures in the foreground. What we did have was rough water and floating pieces of ice in all sizes, allowing for interesting long shutterspeed shots. With the waves crashing in, we could see the icestacks calving off rapidly. Had we visited a day later, I guess we would have been disappointed with the little ice left. And although we had missed the best days (both with respect to the amount of drifting ice and beautiful sunrises/sunsets), we were happy to have witnessed this spectacle and even got away with some photographs we are quite happy with.

Drifting Ice; Canon 5D Mark II w. 17-40/4L; 13s at F16 and ISO200; ND Grad filter, ND filter, tripod, remote release

Mención de Honor

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 11:20:00 +0000

I am happy to announce that my image ' Foggy Grebes' was awarded Highly Commended at the 2011 Memorial Maria Luisa nature photography competition in Spain. Almost 17,000 photographs were entered by 1,600 photographers from 54 countries. I am proud to be among the winners for the second year in a row. As usual, there was other Dutch success too, with both Johan van de Watering and Martin van Lokven being awarded a Highly Commended image. The image itself was taken only a few kilometres from my home on a cold spring morning. Fog was predicted, and usually the densest fog can be found over bodies of water.

So I naturally headed to the local fishing ponds. At one spot, I could photograph straight into the rising sun, that set the fog ablaze with a wonderful pinkish orange pastel hue. The reed beds along the shore made for a wonderful natural frame. All I needed was a subject. As on cue, this couple of Great Crested Grebes (Podiceps cristatus; Fuut) came swimming out of the dense fog and made a wonderful, recognizable subject.

Great Crested Grebes; Canon 1D Mark III w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/400s at F5.6 and ISO400; tripod

Harvester of Sorrow

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 09:31:00 +0000

Still lovely winter weather, but not as much time this weekend for photography and the little time I had was dedicated to wrong choices. I spent the morning at the local fishing ponds. Now of course they were frozen, so I did not expect a lot of waterfowl, but I had hoped for foxes or bitterns (Botaurus stellaris, Roerdomp) to cross the ice. None of that happened. No surprise, as I later heard a local hunter has shot several foxes in the small reserve this winter only. Sick b*stard. I did find a sleeping Common Snipe (Gallinago gallinago; Watersnip) among the reeds close to one of the few tiny holes in the ice. I spent an hour on my belly on the ice, waiting for it to wake up and start feeding around the open water.

Never happened. After I had slowly melted my way into the ice, I was cold and wet and left the scene. On the way to the car, I felt watched, held my step and just prevented my snowboot from giving this Wood Mouse (Apodemus sylvaticus, Bosmuis) a hefty concussion. It was nibbling from the small patches of grass that the snow had not covered, not impressed by my presence at all. Only when I got close with the macro lens did it decide to take a run for its money, but only a meter or so at a time. After a few more shots with the long lens I left it alone, so it could stock up on energy undisturbedly. At least one creature that's happy with the active foxhunter I guess.

The afternoon was spent in the hide, hoping the buzzard would come for the bait. We had placed an observation camera at the scene earlier and the card was full with movies featuring one or two buzzards and even a Polecat (Mustela putorius, Bunzing). With high hopes, I sat there for 3 hours (at least not as cold as last week), only to photograph a Carrion Crow (Corvus corone, Zwarte Kraai) in gorgeous light. A small consolation. Next weekend will probably be dull and wet, let's see what to photograph then.

Wood Mouse; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/800s at F7.1 and ISO200; handheld on ground

Natural Low ISO Noise

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 10:56:00 +0000

Winter's finally there and boy have I been enjoying it. I spent most of the weekend outside photographing landscapes that I normally pass without even giving them a glance. Everything just looks so much better when covered under a layer of ice and snow. My weekend started with 5 hours of waiting in a small tent for a Buzzard to come for breakfast. In vain. In spite of several layers of warm clothing, handwarmers and warm snowboots, I froze my ass off, and more. I have never been that cold in my entire life. When I finally had enough and got out of the tent, it started snowing. I jumped in my car and drove to a more suitable spot for landscape photography.

I never got there, as on the way I came across a large flock of Bewick's Swans (Cygnus bewickii, Kleine Zwaan) and a small herd of Roe Deer (Capreolus capreolus, Ree) that were all happily munching away near the forest edge. The background is normally blemished by a farm and the nearby motorway, but the dense snow hid all that ugliness from view. By chosing a small aperture, I got a lot of snow in sharp focus, giving the idea of digital sensor noise. I think it adds to the monochromatic look and feel of the image. After a while, the snowfall even got denser and in the resulting shots, you'll be hard-pressed to recognize the lone figure in the corner as a Roe Deer.

Saturday and Sunday morning were spent photographing wonderful sunrises in the snow-covered heather. It was blisteringly cold at -18 degrees Celcius, but as long as I kept moving, I felt warm. Besides the beautiful surroundings, I also enjoyed tracking animal tracks a lot. On an unspoiled fen, I found the tracks of two foxes that met halfway and went on together from there on. Reminds me that it is rutting season for foxes. Those cute fox cubs are in the process of being made! But that's something for spring, for now I hope King Winter spends a few more weeks in his Dutch realm.

Roe Deer in Snow Flurry; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS; 1/60s at F11 and ISO200; beanbag from vehicle

Flock of Ghosts

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 21:21:00 +0000

The weekend did not bring the promised frost yet, but at least the weather was acceptable and I had a clear photographic goal in mind.

I spent two mornings with a flock of Bewick's Swans (Cygnus bewickii, Kleine Zwaan). Their number fluctuates but hovers around a hundred individuals when they spend the night in relative safety in the middle of a shallow body of water. Around sunrise, their whooping calls start to get louder and more nervous when they get ready for take off towards a day of foraging on grassy farmland. The wind dictates the direction in which they take off, but also the side of the pond they use for a floating sleep.

On the first try I managed to get close to the shore without being seen, but the wind was not in my favour. The swans took off in the opposite direction and once they flew over my position towards the foraging grounds, they were way too hight for decent shots. On the second morning, I saw they were at the other side of the pond, much harder to approach unseen. I managed to get closer and this time the wind was more favorable. The fun part is you never now if they take off all at once, or in small groups. At least they make a lot of sound when they prepare to go, so it is possible to get ready for taking the shot.

The one thing both mornings had in common is that the swans took off before sunrise when light levels were low. I had no choice but to use a slow shutter speed and try to pan with the flying swans. Sometimes it works out, sometimes you'll end with a card full of crappy abstracts. It all depends on the shutter speed and the speed of flight. I had a lot of failures, but the image above is one of the ones I liked. I think it really shows the mystic of their pre-dawn flight and the ghostly manner in which they cross the sky. The only thing missing is that spine-shivering whoop!

Bewick's Swans; Canon 1D Mark III w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/5s at F5.6 and ISO800; tripod

Wrong Choice

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 08:02:00 +0000

Here's one from a week ago, as the terrible weather kept me inside during the whole of last weekend. This one was taken one afternoon when the sky looked promising. I expected a nice sunset and found some time to go out.

The big mistake I made was to head for a location I did not know very well because I thought the meandering stream there, combined with the wide, unobstructed view, would make for a nice subject. I arrived at the spot long before sunset, so had all the time to look for a suitable composition and setup my camera. However, right before sunrise, I found myself still rushing around because there was not a single vantage point that provided me with an image that I was hapy with. In the end, I settled for this relatively standard composition of a silhouetted tree against the evening sky. The recently mowed reeds and the ditch are nice diagonal elements and the pinkish afterglow light is pleasing to the eye.

However, had I gone to one of my 'private' places, the ones I visit often, I would have walked straight to the best position to shoot from and could have waited for the right moment. The result would probably have been the best shot of that particular location in my archives.

So lesson learned: do research when the light is not right and head to familiar places when it is. Of course, one can always get lucky by being at the 'right place at the right time', but to be honest, such is the exception to the rule. Well, at least in my case. Predictions for next weekend are 'really cold winter weather'. Fingers crossed and ready to head to familiar places!

Sunset Tree; Canon 5D Mark II w. 17-40/4L; 2.5s af F16 and ISO100; ND Grad filter, remote release, bubble level and tripod

Wet Suit

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 18:14:00 +0000

Finally some luck with the timing. For the first time in ages, last Friday featured a wonderful sunrise. It was a short one, because the clouds came in right after the colors put on some decent hue and saturation. But alas, at least we got some color. After the recent rains, the water level has risen quite a bit. Even the small pools of water in between the high grass are deeper than you might think at first glance. I found out the hard (and wet) way when I suddenly stepped into a pothole, lost my balance and got wet up to my thighs. For a moment I was glad we were not experiencing a bitingly cold winter's morning.

The next morning saw me back at the same scene, but it was cloudy and grey. When the sun finally beat the clouds, the colors had long gone. Same with the Sunday, when I was smart enough to step outside into the garden and then back into bed.

The afternoons had some serious sunsets to showcase though, so maybe I should stick to those. As I am not blessed with a natural tendency for getting up early, it might not even be such a bad idea. As I am writing this, we have had a day and night with some serious frost and the next day and night the cold will stick around. Hopefully winter will persevere a bit longer, I would love to get back to those fens and photograph them with a beautiful thin layer of ice to reflect the sunrise or sunset colors.

By the way, photographing a scene like the one above needs ND Grad filters. As I am getting more experienced at landscape photography (I consider myself still a novice), I find I am grabbing the right filter on more and more occasions. One thing to look out for is not to filter too much when there's water reflecting the sky in the shot. It just does not look right when the reflection is brighter than the sky itself.

Heather Fen at Sunrise; Canon 5D Mark II w. 17-40/4L; 10s at F16 and ISO200; ND Grad filter, remote release, bubble level and tripod

Maya Prophecy

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 12:08:00 +0000

To the left is my first and only photograph taken in 2012 and it perfectly represents the nature of the current winter, if one could call it a winter at all. Dark, gloomy, rainy, windy, mild. In Dutch we would call this a 'kwakkelwinter', a sickly winter. All this darkness could well be a herald to the Maya prophecy that planet earth is bound to meet its maker in 2012. At least at home, things are heading south quickly. Software on the Mac suddenly stopped working, the kitchen lights failed on me and replacements that fit the holes in the cabinets are no longer sold. So even more darkness at the Heuts mansion. I think I'll just sit still and see what happens. Maybe the Mayas were wrong after all and just were not able to count any further than 2012.

Well, dear Mayas, I got news for you: 2013 is the next number and surely not the last. Hopefully one of them is a follower of this blog, recognizes their mistake and turns the lights on again. Oh, and when you're at it, please switch the frost and snow levers too. Thank you. Or muchas gracias for that matter.

Flooded Heather; Canon 5D Mark II w. 17-40/4L; 30s at F16 and ISO200; ND-Grad filter, tripod and remote release

Snow White

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 13:59:00 +0000

A last-minute contribution to the blog. Around the holidays, I have hardly been out with the camera, the weather not being particularly inviting for a stint with the camera. I went out one grey morning to photograph swans at their take off to the foraging grounds. When I arrived, still in darkness, they were already in the air, a bit early in my experience. I crawled to the water's edge to see what else I could photograph. Of course all the ducks were gone in a split-second. Only about a dozen sleeping Great Egrets (Ardea alba, Grote Zilverreiger) stayed at the scene. A few minutes later, they all awoke and one by one flew away to feed in the area individually.

I was fortunate a rather strong wind blew from behind me, forcing the egrets to take off in my direction. Because of the lack of light, I used a very long shutterspeed for a nice blur-effect in the wings. Out of the dozens of shots, only in this one did the egret keep its head relatively still, a requirement for the result to at least vaguely resemble an egret. No snow or ice, but still a nice high-key, snowy image to close the photographic year with.

I wish you all a very nice last day of 2011 and hope 2012 offers a lot of willing subjects and boatloads of wonderful light. See you next year.

Great Egret; Canon 1D Mark III w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/8s at F5.6 and ISO800; tripod.

Warm Welcome

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 09:06:00 +0000

In my previous post, I mentioned I was eagerly awaiting the arrival of one of my favourite wintering guests, the Hen Harrier (Circus cyaneus, Blauwe Kiekendief). I had not even finished writing the blogpost, or my telephone rang. The landowner excitedly informed me that 'he had returned' to the fields of joy (and voles). I had to wait until Saturday before I could go out and try to photograph it. And of course, the Harrier was last seen on Wednesday. Not good. So I decided to try some sunrise landscapes. I was out in the field when I got a call that 'he was patrolling the field'. I jumped in the car and drove over there, only to find empty fields of joy (but many voles).

As I had brought tea and lunch, I decided to sit and wait. Which I did for hours on end, until sunset. The Harrier returned twice, for about a minute each time. His first appearance was abruptly ended by a dog walking its owner, the second hunt was literally blasted by a hunter in the forest who timed his pigeon-fest as bad as possibly possible. I got one half-decent shot of the fleeing Harrier, which can be seen above. You gotta love it. Well, at least he's back. As soon as it gets colder, he will hunt the fields of joy (and voles) more regularly. If there are any voles left by then, as I witnessed a beautiful male Kestrel (Falco tinninculus, Torenvalk) catch four voles in the course of only a few hours. Unfortunately, he kept a safe distance of more than 100 meters from the car, so no photographs please. Funny thing about the shot above, is that I got a similar one almost a year ago. Probably the same Harrier, and even the same background tree, be it shot from the other side. Only the snow flurry is missing, which I should admit adds a lot to the mood and feel of the final image. Here's the 'old' shot for comparison.

Hen Harrier; Canon 1D Mark III w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/640s at F6.3 and ISO400; beanbag from vehicle

Feathery Friday

noreply@blogger.com (Marijn Heuts) — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 08:48:00 +0000

I recently realized that since our family holiday to South Africa, I had not photographed any fur or feather, instead focussing on landscapes, abstracts and macro photography. The telelens spent way too much time deep in the closet. But somehow, I suddenly felt like bird photography again and started to think about possible subjects. Around this time of the year, a friend's huge natural garden is regularly visited by one or more Hen Harriers, but not this year. The weather has been more like autumn than winter, keeping the usual suspects away. Hopefully, I'll see them soon, because their hunting antics are wonderful to watch and photograph. They hunt against the wind, and when that wind is a stiff one, they will very slowly hover over the fields, in the direction of the eagerly awaiting photographer. Well, I'll just wait for them to arrive and hope to photograph them in a snow flurry, like I did last year. Instead, I found a cheerful little flock of about 20 Common Redpolls (Carduelis flammea, Barmsijs) feasting on the seeds of Evening Primrose (Oenothera biënnis, Teunisbloem). They were very confiding, and after a short wait they got into shooting range without taking any notice of the lens-swinging human form in the vehicle. I was very happy to watch these beautiful nordic birds for a while, because I used to have two Redpolls for pets and had always liked their happy, highpitched calls.

Common Redpoll; Canon 5D Mark II w. 500/4L IS and 1.4x; 1/200s at F7.1 and ISO400; beanbag from vehicle.