Everyone knows I like to write about the ducks visiting Arizona's waterways during the winter. Most of these birds are escaping the colder temperatures of their summer breeding ranges far away in northern latitudes. One species I've seen regularly this season is the green-winged teal. While I've not observed any in my Phoenix neighborhood, I have encountered flocks of them at two locations in the state.
The first teals I saw were the several individuals wintering at the Riparian Preserve in the city of Gilbert's Water Ranch complex in early January. And on a quick stop at Watson Lake in Prescott this past February I observed what appeared to be a larger flock of more than a dozen.
They're not the easiest birds to photograph for a couple of reasons: they're always on the water and they're wary of human spectators. So with my new 400mm sized Tamron lens attached to my Canon, I was anxious to return to Gilbert and get a little bit closer to these difficult subjects from a dry and non-threatening distance.
This is my first lens upgrade, increasing my focal length from 250mm to 400mm - which is roughly magnifying the image size from 5 to 8 times. Since my Canon actually has a crop sensor, I should get an even better magnification when I switch to a full-frame lens. But I'm not qualified to have a technical discussion about photography so I'll focus on my specialty: snapping lots of shots of birds and recounting the stories.
I wasn't disappointed back at the Riparian Preserve yesterday. Maybe it's all our winter rain, but it seemed like all the ponds were filled with water - the first time I've seen that. So not surprisingly, avocets, stilts, egrets, and ducks, to name just a few varieties of waterfowl, paddled, dabbled and trekked through the many acre-feet of water.
It didn't take long to run into some green-winged teals; unfortunately they were between me and the morning's rising sun. As a result, even with my new zoom lens, I could barely discern their unique markings through the glare. But this particular corner of the pond had a couple of vantage points to view the action so I quickly relocated to a position with the sunlight behind me and clicked away.
Like most ducks, the green-winged teal male, or drake, is more colorfully dressed than the female, or hen. He has wide, emerald green stripes behind his eyes in vibrant contrast to his nutmeg colored head: I can't think of a more ecological color scheme for a flag.
Just as striking to me is that the bird's wings are not actually green, or at least not fully. Its name comes from the fact that in flight, in both the male and the female, a green patch is noticeable at the base of each wing. However I've been lucky to capture a glimpse of this bright area when the teal is just dabbling about its business on the water.
But why is the bird called a teal, versus a duck, or even a widgeon since it looks so much like one? It's actually a very close relative of the mallard, in the same genus anas. There was another attractive pair of teals at the preserve, photobombing the same frames as I photographed the green-winged variety. They were cinnamon teals, not anas at all, but spatulas, closely related to northern shovelers, and, interestingly, blue-winged teals. Confused? Maybe the technical discussion on photography doesn't seem so daunting anymore.
They're not the easiest birds to photograph for a couple of reasons: they're always on the water and they're wary of human spectators. So with my new 400mm sized Tamron lens attached to my Canon, I was anxious to return to Gilbert and get a little bit closer to these difficult subjects from a dry and non-threatening distance.
This is my first lens upgrade, increasing my focal length from 250mm to 400mm - which is roughly magnifying the image size from 5 to 8 times. Since my Canon actually has a crop sensor, I should get an even better magnification when I switch to a full-frame lens. But I'm not qualified to have a technical discussion about photography so I'll focus on my specialty: snapping lots of shots of birds and recounting the stories.
I wasn't disappointed back at the Riparian Preserve yesterday. Maybe it's all our winter rain, but it seemed like all the ponds were filled with water - the first time I've seen that. So not surprisingly, avocets, stilts, egrets, and ducks, to name just a few varieties of waterfowl, paddled, dabbled and trekked through the many acre-feet of water.
It didn't take long to run into some green-winged teals; unfortunately they were between me and the morning's rising sun. As a result, even with my new zoom lens, I could barely discern their unique markings through the glare. But this particular corner of the pond had a couple of vantage points to view the action so I quickly relocated to a position with the sunlight behind me and clicked away.
Like most ducks, the green-winged teal male, or drake, is more colorfully dressed than the female, or hen. He has wide, emerald green stripes behind his eyes in vibrant contrast to his nutmeg colored head: I can't think of a more ecological color scheme for a flag.
Just as striking to me is that the bird's wings are not actually green, or at least not fully. Its name comes from the fact that in flight, in both the male and the female, a green patch is noticeable at the base of each wing. However I've been lucky to capture a glimpse of this bright area when the teal is just dabbling about its business on the water.
But why is the bird called a teal, versus a duck, or even a widgeon since it looks so much like one? It's actually a very close relative of the mallard, in the same genus anas. There was another attractive pair of teals at the preserve, photobombing the same frames as I photographed the green-winged variety. They were cinnamon teals, not anas at all, but spatulas, closely related to northern shovelers, and, interestingly, blue-winged teals. Confused? Maybe the technical discussion on photography doesn't seem so daunting anymore.
Male green-winged teal at the Riparian Preserve at Water Ranch in Gilbert. |
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