Living in the Pacific Flyway, part deux

Earlier this week I visited the San Joaquin River Wildlife Refuge waterfowl observation site just a few miles from our neighborhood. My intent was to see the Sandhill Cranes that hang out here this time of year on their annual migration from points north to points south. Instead of the cranes, I was treated to a spectacle that I had never been witness to in person...huge numbers of the Aleutian Canada Goose. I went back there Thursday morning, this time dragging with me my somewhat reluctant wife Loretta.

I knew I wanted to get some sunrise photos of these birds, and that meant getting there before the sun came up. This time of year, just a few days before switching back to Pacific Standard Time, the sun doesn’t come up until after 7:00am. So why did we arrive there at 6:00am...in the middle of the night? I’m never late to anything, maybe that’s why.

It was pitch black out there in the countryside. The moving lights of a solid string of automobiles and trucks in the distance on Highway 132 could be seen, making their way to Highway 5 and the bay area on their morning commute. The distant orangish glow of the city of Modesto to the west was also visible in this surreallistic time of the day. There were some other single lights here and there, at the farms and ranches. But not much else.

We could hear the geese the moment we arrived. The honking of hundreds of these migratory birds at least confirmed they were in the area. We couldn’t see the birds or the field yet, the area where I photographed thousands of them just a few days before in the hour before sunset. It was still too dark. And, it was cold...colder than we had anticipated. For a couple of weather-wimpy Calfiornians, this was almost more than we had bargained for. That Fall morning chill began creeping into our bones through the flimsy sweatshirts and sweatpants we had chosen to wear. Hell, I was going to wear shorts! It was clear as a bell with no wind...and as yet no birds that we could see. Just the sound of them in the distance...honking out their morning anthem. We sipped our coffees, stuck our hands in the pockets of our flimsy sweatshirts, and waited. Loretta was shivering just a bit. Me...I was pacing on the redwood observation platform...occassionally snaping a long-exposure picture of the darkness, hoping to conjure up some sort of aesthetic dawn shot. It wasn’t working...it was still just too dark. And now, my hands were getting very cold holding the bulky Canon camera. Loretta was wise enough to bring gloves by the way...not yours truly.

Then, the sounds of the geese began to get louder...and louder. And it sounded not like hundreds, but like thousands. There were coming closer. In fact, they were right above us now. As we looked up into the dark gray morning sky, what we saw was almost scary at first. There was just enough light now. Enough light to see a near solid blanket of geese. Some flying in V-formations, others lined up in offset straight lines...just over our heads. They were everywhere in the sky, and all slowly moving at the same speed and in the same direction.
I would liken the vision similar to the giant spaceships in the movie Independence Day as they passed over, blocking out the sky. It was awesome. And it was just too dark and too immense to get a good photograph with my telephoto lens. They drifted over us, presumebly choosing to settle in some other field nearby. None of them ever choosing to land in the field by the observation platform where were waiting. The immense alien craft sailed by right over us. And in a few moments, was gone.

As the sun began to rise in the east, I was able to start shooting some shots of the flocks of geese as they continued to come into our immediate vicinity. Huge groups numbering in the hundreds continued to fly to and fro. They would pass over us from time to time...never stopping near our location. And some flew right across the image of the rising sun, off in the distance, framed by the clear morning sky and distant farm buildings and fields. I caught many in the viewfinder of the 400mm telephoto lens, only hoping there was enough light to capture a useable image or two. There was enough light now.

We did indeed see a few Sandhill Cranes winging their way past us in the distance, giving a wide birth on their journey to who knows where. The Aleutian Canada Geese themselves also opted not to land near where we were waiting to welcome them...and photograph them. At one point, I looked through my long lens at one of the fields well behind us, several hundred yards in the distance. And there they were. Hundreds upon hundreds of geese walking and grazing...and staying safe from us. The previously bright green, grassy field in which they had landed was now black with their numbers. On our way out, we stopped briefly on the road right next to their parking place. I crept slowly out of the Jeep with my camera and began snapping a few telephoto shots through the barbed wire fence surrounding the field. At the same time, the geese, as a group, turned their feathered backs on me and either walked away or took flight to the other side of the field. It was as if to say, "I'm affraid you are not worthy of our close presence on this day. Try again some other time". And so I will.



I will try again sometime soon. They fly in to this part of the valley in October and November, so I assume them may be around for a little while. I also assume they will not be present in that field next to the observation platform unless they are already there when I arrive. Wild birds like this are extremely wary and savvy of human presence. Afterall, one must hide in a goose "blind" when hunting them...not standing out in the open with a long-barreled camera pointed in their direction! I guess I just need to get a bigger telephoto lens for those long distance shots. And, be more patient.