Fresh snow coated the earth on Monday morning, making my daily birding easy from my spot at the window. Birds came and went, the usual suspects… Mourning Doves, Purple Finches, Tufted Titmice, and a Dark-eyed Juncos. Despite looking at birds more than my laptop, I didn’t see any American Goldfinches like I did the day before. At last, lunch came, and I could try something new: sneak out with my camera and take some pictures.
I bought a Canon Rebel T6 off of Facebook Marketplace two months ago. After replacing the batteries and buying an SD card, I haven’t had a chance to use it. I’ve been studying on how to best take pictures, but all advice pointed to “practice makes perfect.” I changed out to the larger zoom lens from my kit and slipped on my boots to wait on the porch for birds.
A handful of birds took off the second I opened the door. Left behind were two confused Mourning Doves. One belatedly shot into the upper canopy of the maple tree, too far away for me to capture in a photo. The other chose a lower spot, eyeing me as I stood still on my porch. I snapped a couple shots in quick succession before it, too, left for higher branches.
After about three minutes, the Tufted Titmice swarmed back into my feeders. At least three small family units visit my feeders daily. One brave bird swooped into my light-blue metal hopper and stole away with a sunflower seed. Others were dangling off the branches of the maple tree, waiting for their turn.
The Tufted Titmice were hard for me to photograph. They sprint across the yard, and when landed at the feeder, they antagonize each other. Of course, it’s in their nature to dine-and-dash, preferring to crack seeds at a high, safe spot than down at the feeder. Tufted Titmice also form hoards of food over the winter, so some will grab a seed and disappear. It was easiest to photograph them when they were watching me for sudden movements. The entire time I was photographing the Titmice, I was holding my breath!
I watched them come and go for ten minutes- Titmice dominate my feeders at any point during the day. A Red-Bellied Woodpecker flew overhead, and decided to not munch at the suet upon spotting me. A handful of Dark-eyed Juncos came to forage on the ground, but I missed a chance at photographing them. Their dark upper halves contrasted too much against the snow and white bellies.
As the end of my lunch drew near, the birds started to dwindle in my yard. My neighbor’s feeder, out of my camera’s view, was bustling with Purple Finches. I can imagine the birds felt safer with the shrubs and arbor between me and their tiny bodies. With their feeder so busy, a small group of birds waited on the far branches of the maple tree.
I leaned on the support of my porch roof as I zoomed into their spot. My movement scared away all except for one female, who ignored my existence. With the light misty sky behind her, the shot appeared too dark on my camera. Dejected, I went back inside, feeling that my experiment was a failure.
At my desk, I fumbled with the camera settings to import the pictures to my iPhone. I almost gave up in frustration, but with the help of a Youtube video, I figured it out in the nick of time. The last five minutes of my lunch break was total awe, admiring my pictures. I had never, in my life, taken a picture of a bird. I could see the subtle colors of the Mourning Dove and the gleam of a Titmouse’s eye. Satisfied, I put my camera away and went back to work, planning the next time to photograph birds in my backyard.
Autumn Knepp 