birds Archives - Loree Johnson Photography

Finding My Way Home – A New Direction

by Loree | Sep 30, 2021 | Deserts, Finding my Way Home, The Vagabond Lifestyle

A New Direction is the tenth installment of Finding My Way Home. To view the previous installment, click here . If you wish to start from the beginning, click here. This is the ongoing story of the six years I spent as a vagabond photographer.

Somewhere on the road between the north rim of the Grand Canyon and Flagstaff, Arizona this scene of red cliffs and dramatic clouds played out. — ***“Red Cliffs and Dramatic Clouds”***

The plan was to spend a month near Zion and then move on to Bryce Canyon National Park. I haven’t decided how long I want to stay at Bryce, so I haven’t made any reservations. It’s only May, so the summer tourist season hasn’t really kicked off yet. I figure I will just go that direction and find a place to stay along the way. It’s also time for an oil change for the motor home, so I start calling around Hurricane to see which shops can accommodate a large vehicle. Since it is my home, I cannot just drop it off and come back when it’s done. Chris and I take Luna for a walk around town, while we wait for the RV. It’s chilly and the wind is blowing, which reminds me of the weather forecast, which is for rain here and possible snow at higher elevations, including Bryce. As we talk about that, Chris suggests going south rather than north, given the impending weather. I agree that a new direction is a great idea.

“Aplomado Falcon Profile”

Sometimes, I get a plan in mind and fail to consider other options. It’s difficult to get used to the idea that I can make a plan and stick to it, or change my mind and make a new plan. I’ve always been a planner, partly because I’ve always had to be. Having the luxury of spontaneity is new and counterintuitive. I’ve been worrying about the weather up in the mountains, without even recognizing I could go in a new direction. All of a sudden, going south is not only a possibility, but a better plan. Chris mentions he’s always wanted to visit Sedona, and I think that sounds great. We start planning a route. We will go to the north rim of the Grand Canyon, then Flagstaff, then on to Sedona. Bryce will just have to wait until the next time I come this way.

Double rainbow over Cathedral Rock in Sedona, Arizona. Recent rains have left pools of water, creating an opportunity to capture a reflection of the famous, mystical rock in the foreground. — **“Magical Sedona”**

Now it’s mid-May and I’m calling ahead to Flagstaff and Sedona, trying to find places to stay for a week and a month, respectively, and having little success. I’ve just learned a new lesson as a full-timer. This is my first major summer holiday on the road. I may be able to wing it most of the year, but when it comes to Memorial Day (also Fourth of July and Labor Day), I need to make reservations far in advance. Especially if I am going to be in a popular tourist area. This puts a crimp in my spontaneity, for sure.

The gyrfalcon (Falco rusticolus) is the largest of the falcon species. This is an up close view of an adult female "talking." — ***“Gyrfalcon”***

Here I am, living in my RV every day, when suddenly every RV owner who doesn’t live in theirs wants a place to take it for the weekend. I never thought about it too much until I had to. After many, many phone calls and disappointments, I finally find a place in Flagstaff that can accommodate us for five days while we await an opening at a park in Cottonwood, Arizona, which is about twenty miles from Sedona. It was the only place with openings that was within my budget and we can only stay for ten days. From now on, I will try to make sure I have a monthly reservation that encompasses each summer holiday. While I’m in Flagstaff, I search online for places to go where I might find some wildlife to photograph. After driving all over the place, and finding only a handful of birds, I finally give up and go to a “raptor show” at the botanical garden. I don’t usually shoot captive birds and the show is a reminder why. The birds are well cared for, ineligible to be released into the wild, and provide educational value to the public. Although it’s an amazing experience to see these majestic and powerful birds close up, I just don’t get the same satisfaction as when I photograph birds in the wild.

Sedona, Arizona is surrounded by impressive and unique rock formations. Bell Rock is so named because of its shape. — **“Sedona’s Bell Rock”**

My space at the Park in Cottonwood is on a bluff, overlooking the Verde River. To my delight, I notice there are many birds here. When I settle into a new space, one of the first things to do is set up the outdoor table. I like to cook on the grill, and the RV parks that provide picnic tables often have rules against putting grills on them. Bringing my own folding table solves that problem. The next morning, I take the dog outside and notice purple spots and streaks all over the table. It’s bird poop. As Luna and I venture down the hill for our morning walk, I’m wondering what kind of bird makes purple poop. Down by the river there is a park-like common space for the RV park. The groundskeeper is there setting up sprinklers. When he sees us, he proudly shows me the large mulberry bush, full of berries, he has been tending. Despite that childhood song now stuck in my head, at least I know how the bird poop came to be purple.

Male ladder backed woodpecker (Picoides scalaris) posing near Cottonwood, Arizona. — ***“Ladder Backed Woodpecker Pose”***

The scenery in and around the area is some of the most beautiful in the southwestern U.S. Unfortunately, Sedona (the town), is a huge disappointment. It’s really a shame that the spectacular landscapes have created a such gaudy tourist trap. Full of tacky shops selling Chinese-made “Native American” goods and all manner of spiritual woo-woo, the place is like a theme park for new age seekers. We stop in a “tourist information center.” They immediately pressure us to attend a time share presentation. They promise a helicopter tour of Sedona as incentive. I am against it, having endured such a thing once before in my life. But Chris really wants to do it. After the thrilling helicopter tour over Zion National Park, the lure is irresistible. I tell him it will be excruciating and not worth the time, but he insists. It turns out to be even more awful than I imagined.

Male cardinal (Cardinalidae) in the grass. Photographed in Cottonwood, Arizona. — ***“Arizona Cardinal”***

We are re-directed to a presentation for golf course condos, after being promised a presentation about an RV park time share. The guy who scheduled it assures us that we will get the RV park information via computer at the other location since the RV park tours are full. We show up, along with about ten other couples. We sign in, get a brief welcome, and our “guide” escorts us away.

Inspired and commissioned by local rancher and sculptor Marguerite Brunswig Staude, the Chapel of the Holy Cross was almost built in Budapest, Hungary. World War II abruptly halted those plans and she looked homeward to Sedona, Arizona. The Chapel stands on public land in the Coconino National Forest thanks to the late senator Barry Goldwater, who helped Staude obtain a special use permit. Integrated into the red rock buttes, the chapel is an architectural marvel. — ***“Chapel of the Holy Cross Vertical”***

This guy absolutely looks the part of a slimy timeshare salesman. His dark hair is slicked back with what looks like motor oil and his sleeves are pushed up to just below his elbows and fastened with cufflinks. He breaks the ice with obviously rehearsed jokes, while reeking of way too much cologne. As he ushers us into a condo, which has been conspicuously over-decorated to appear luxurious, he asks us what we think. I mention to him that we are not really interested in golf course condos and were told we could learn about RV sites. He immediately blows a gasket and accuses us of scamming him and his company just to get a free helicopter ride. He tells us he needs to take us back to the main office and make us fill out some forms to verify we are who we said we are and our income. The guy is screaming at us and ordering us to go with him back to the original meeting place. We look at each other and calmly walk back to the car, get in and drive away. Needless to say, we aren’t getting a free helicopter tour.

In Sedona, Arizona, it's easy to lose sight of the small things. But a closer look reveals beauty in the desert beyond the red rock landscapes. Here desert thistles bloom in brilliant purple color. — ***“Desert Thistle”***

The best thing that happens in Sedona actually starts in Cottonwood. I’m outside one evening and notice the moon is nearly full. Ever since I started learning photography, I’ve been enamored with shooting the moon. I get out my photo planning software and Google Maps and find a place to photograph the moon rising behind the famous landmark, Cathedral Rock. When I get there the next day, it all works out just as I planned, which almost never happens. Sedona Moon turns out to be one of my most popular photographs of all time.

Watching the full moon rise between the spires of Sedona, Arizona's Cathedral Rock is a truly unforgettable experience. — ***“Sedona Moon”***

After the timeshare debacle, and the excessive commercialism of the place, we’re happy to leave Sedona. The ten day opening at Cottonwood has run out, and it’s time for another new direction. The next place I really want to visit is Monument Valley. It’s farther than I want to go in one day, so we spend a couple of days in Tuba City, which is on the Navajo Nation in central Arizona. Chris is working on a project involving the controversial Confluence development project near there. While he meets with locals and documents their concerns, I get to work figuring out where I will be staying at Monument Valley and beyond, including the Fourth of July. (I don’t want to do the holiday scramble again!)

Female Anna's hummingbird (Calypte anna) in mid flight looking up at the sky, possibly daydreaming. — ***“Daydream”***

Best of 2020 and and The Challenges Ahead

by Loree | Dec 30, 2020 | Best of, Birds, Blog, Oregon, Photography, Public Lands, Siskiyou County, Waterfalls, Wildlife

As I considered this year’s “best of” post, it almost seemed like an oxymoron. How could 2020, which I’ve deemed the “lost year,” have a best of? But then, as I looked through the photographs I’ve taken in 2020, I realized that the year was not lost at all. Yet, I could not bring myself to simply present a self-indulgent look back on 2020. As I look back through these images, my thoughts are consumed by the massive problems facing the Klamath Basin in general and the wildlife refuges there in particular.

10.) Incoming Snowy Egret

Snowy egret (Egretta thula) coming in for a landing. Photographed at Tulelake National Wildlife Refuge, California.

To say this year has been different would be an understatement. But, aside from the obvious differences we all experienced this year, it was the first year since 2013 that I spent without traveling. Most of 2020 was spent in Tulelake, California, near the wildlife refuges I treasure. The last two months of the year have been spent in Mount Shasta, California. The reason I decided to give up full-time travel and settle in this area is because the Klamath Basin Refuges, where I learned wildlife photography, are in trouble. The trouble has been brewing for a long time, but it is reaching a crisis point. I don’t know what I can do to help, I only know I must do something.

9.) American Bittern Portrait

Since I spent most of the year near the Klamath Basin Wildlife Refuges, a majority of my photos were taken on the refuges. While people around the world were experiencing the effects of the disease known as Covid-19, the birds on the Tulelake and Lower Klamath refuges were experiencing a severe outbreak of avian botulism due to lack of water on the refuges. Avian botulism is common in summer on these refuges, but in 2020, it went from a difficult problem to a full-blown disaster.

8.) Female Black-necked Stilt

While the devastating loss of human life to the pandemic has been well documented, perhaps fewer people are aware that an estimated 40,000 to 60,000 aquatic birds perished on the relatively small area of the two refuges this summer. And while the severity of the covid pandemic came suddenly and took many by surprise, the massive die-off of birds has been slowly and predictably building over years, even decades.

7.) Hawk Expression

Amid much blaming and finger-pointing, the bottom line of the problem is that there is not enough water to go around. Not enough for farmers and ranchers, not enough for endangered fish, and not enough for wetlands and the birds that depend on them. The way the current system is structured, endangered fish come first, farmers and ranchers next, and birds come last. The result last summer was tens of thousands of waterfowl and other birds dying a slow, horrible death.

6.) Celestial Tern

And now, many waterflowl hunters and advocates want to blame the Endangered Species Act and water allocated to protect endangered fish. As if taking water from the fish and giving it to the birds would solve the problem. The issues are very complex and long-standing, with no simple or obvious solution. It seems to me that the Endangered Species Act is to conservation what the emergency room is to health care. Yes, we must try to save the fish, but at the same time, we must try to keep other species healthy and out of the “emergency room.” Letting the emergency patient die, in the name of keeping another patient healthy, would be tragic (not to mention unethical).

5.) Short-eared Owl After Sunset

There is not space here to explain all the history behind the current situation, but one thing that strikes me as needing change is the Kuchel Act. This is a law, passed in 1964, that was intended as a compromise to prevent land from being stripped out of the refuge for homesteading. It requires the Klamath Basin Wildlife Refuges to lease a certain percentage of refuge land to farmers. While farming on wildlife refuges is not unusual, the percent of land dedicated to farming on the Lower Klamath and especially the Tulelake refuges, is exponentially larger than any other refuges in the U.S. In recent times, the refuge has justified more and more agriculture on the refuges since agriculture has higher priority water rights than the refuges. The argument was that water for crops was better for the wildlife than no water at all. Over the past summer, that argument seemed to implode, as the crops were cultivated, and the birds died.

4.) Mossbrae Shelf

Water rights in the West have always been fraught with tension. My own great-grandfather was shot and killed in a disagreement over water on his Kanab, Utah ranch in 1899. As populations increase and climate change worsens, water will only become more scarce. We must use all our creativity and intelligence to make due with less and prevent as much tragedy as possible to both humans and nature. I believe we can rise to this challenge, but we must start now.

3.) Golden Eagle Hunting

It is my opinion that farming on the refuges should be greatly reduced over time, and perhaps even phased out altogether. The loss of natural habitat in exchange for agriculture water is no longer a benefit to the wildlife. However, this cannot happen without the refuges being allocated some water for wetlands and wildlife. The past practice of using water designated for agriculture to encourage farming methods that benefit birds has fallen way short when water is scarce, as what happened in summer of 2020. (Here is an article from 2017, which provides a pretty balanced view of the pros and cons of agriculture in the refuges: How Farming Inside Wildlife Refuges Is Transforming Klamath Basin Agriculture )

2.) Watchful Harrier

This post has turned out quite a bit different than any of my past “best of” posts. The pride and satisfaction I get from wildlife photography pales in comparison to my desire to ensure the preservation and restoration of these two crown jewels of our National Wildlife Refuge System. What happens to these public lands, which belong to you and me and all Americans, is not a done deal. I believe if more people were aware of the problem, there would be a groundswell of support and an abundance of creative solutions put forth which could make all the difference.

1.) Engage Cloaking Device

And there you have what I consider to be my best images of 2020, as well as some of my biggest concerns for 2021. I realize there are many, many issues that will require attention and solutions in the coming months and years. But, my belief is if each and every one of us would take some action on whatever is most important to us, all those individual actions would make a difference in the world. Our problems are not unsolvable, but they can seem overwhelming. My attention this year will be directed toward finding a solution for the birds of the Klamath Basin. Tell me where yours will be directed in the comments. Happy New Year! Let’s make a difference.

For the Love of Wildlife

by Loree | Aug 11, 2020 | Birds, Blog, Photography, Public Lands, Siskiyou County, Wildlife

It’s been more than a year now since I made the decision to move to the Klamath Basin and work on wildlife conservation, appreciation and awareness. When I decided to take that next step in my life, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, There is much work to be done in the Basin, and many competing interests, some working with one another, and some against. At the time, I figured being a wildlife advocate in a place where human livelihoods are in direct competition with wildlife interests would be the most difficult task. Little did I know that finding a place to live would be the greatest challenge.

When I swooped in, back in October 2019, I thought I would find a house, settle in for the winter, and get busy networking in order to find like-minded people to work with on behalf of the wildlife here. I was unsure if I would join with an existing group, or try to establish a non-profit or other type group. I just knew that the wildlife here is in need of help. The bird populations have been diminishing for at least a decade since I have been photographing here, and likely a lot longer according to accounts and memories of others. The problem seems to be getting more urgent each and every year.

As autumn began to give way to winter, I worried that I would not find a place to live before the frigid temperatures set in. I went about preparing to spend at least part of the winter in my RV. I joined online groups dedicated to wintering in RV’s in cold climates and purchased specialized items to help. Looking back, the best thing I acquired to survive winter was a heated hose made by a company right here in the Klamath Basin. This thing worked like a champ, even when the temperature got down into single digits a couple of nights.

Winter seemed to drag on forever, but the wildlife was always there, giving me something to appreciate. And, as it turned out, I was able to survive winter in a less-than-ideal situation. I’m rather proud of myself for doing something I never thought I could. As a bonus, I got to see some birds that I may not have had I not been so close to the refuge that I could be there at sunset. The short-eared owls only come out just before the sun sets.

Then, just as winter was waning and the promise of spring seemed just around the corner–a global pandemic happened! Now, house hunting was impossible. Not only was everything shut down, but people were not listing their homes for sale, since no one knew when buying would be happening again. All through February and March, and into April, the real estate industry was in limbo. But, the wildlife was unbothered by any of it, because breeding season was here.

Spring is the best time of year for wildlife, especially birds, so I figured I would just enjoy the natural order while I waited for real estate to open up again. The refuge was bustling with activity and being out with the birds was an excellent way to “socially distance” from humans when it became required. I learned how to order groceries online for curbside pickup, and assumed everything would just return to normal after a few months. As we all know now, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

When re-opening began, the real estate market came back–with a vengeance! Houses were being listed in the dozens per week and they were selling as quick as they hit the market. It was like a feeding frenzy. Being on the bottom end of the market, with a small income and a small down payment, I was left out of the surge. Who knew an economic downturn, record unemployment, and massive business closures would lead to a real estate boom? It sure took me by surprise.

Now, as a new generation of birds has hatched and is maturing quickly, I find myself looking ahead to autumn and again hoping for another opportunity to find a permanent home here. Alas, the real estate “feeding frenzy” seems to have ended, but affordability of homes has diminished in its wake. And, although I am proud of myself for surviving winter in the Basin in a motor home, I’m not really itching to do it again. So, I must consider other options if I don’t find a house in the next couple of months. I may have to leave and return in spring to try again. I may have to consider other locations where the housing is more affordable. I have no idea how this will turn out, but I still believe the wildlife of the Klamath Basin is worth advocating for. I believe that we humans can live and prosper without destroying the animals and their habitat that were here long before we arrived. I believe we can feed and house and clothe ourselves without killing off the other beings with which we share this world. I hope to become a voice for the birds here in the Klamath Basin and spread the hope that living in harmony with nature is not only possible, but preferable. These are my dreams and desires. I have not given up on them. Wish me luck.

The Very Hungry Heron

by Loree | Jan 28, 2019 | Wildlife Behavior

Lately, I’ve had occasion to revisit some of my photos from last year. As a result, I was reminded of some interesting behavior I witnessed involving a great blue heron. It happened near the mouth of the Columbia River in a little town called Chinook, Washington, located just across the river from Astoria, Oregon. It was early May and the birds were very active, as is usual for that time of year. I went down to the salt marsh/mud flats near the small harbor in town to see what I could see. I saw numerous bald eagles, but the most interesting thing I saw that day was the behavior of one particular great blue heron.

The first thing that caught my attention that morning was a river otter swimming near the beach. A few minutes later, the hungry heron flew over to where the otter was fishing to see if it could join in the feeding. The otter did its best to ignore the heron and eventually swam farther out into deeper water and away from the intruder.

A great blue heron stands on one leg on the beach near Chinook, Washington. — ***Heron on the Beach***

Having failed to secure an invitation to share in the otter’s bounty, the heron went back to the beach, still hungry.

A great blue heron in stealth mode, stalking prey. — ***The Hungry Heron***

Before long, my heron friend had spotted something that looked promising and tasty. It went into stealth mode, keeping a low profile and walking slowly toward its quarry, hoping it would not be noticed. This time, it was heading in the direction of land, not water. What, you may be wondering, did this heron think would make a good meal?

A pair of Canada Geese with many goslings grazing on the grasses near shore in Chinook, Washington. — **Canada Geese with Goslings**

Yes, it’s true. The very hungry heron was indeed stalking these downy little goslings. Since there were more than twenty of them and only two adults, maybe the heron figured just one wouldn’t be missed by the parents.

A Canada Goose defends its brood from a great blue heron. — ***Goose Attacks Heron***

If you’ve ever had the experience of being around Canada Geese, especially when they have babies near, you know they can be pretty aggressive. As soon as the geese realized what the heron was up to, they sprang into action to defend their brood. The poor heron got a literal “butt chewing” from one of them.

This great blue heron (Ardea herodias), having just survived a confrontation with an angry Canada Goose, decided it was best to move on. — ***Blue Heron Moving On***

And so the drama ended, with the goose family still intact, and the heron still hungry.

As a wildlife photographer, I spend many hours watching animals and birds. Sometimes, these observations yield unique, interesting or funny stories. Please let me know if you enjoyed the story of the very hungry heron and would like to see more posts like this in the future.

America’s Public Lands – Bosque del Apache

by Loree | Dec 5, 2016 | Birds, Public Lands, Wildlife

On a chilly morning in early November, I crawl out of bed two hours before sunrise, knowing it will take at least an hour to reach my destination. My objective this morning is Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, a 57,331-acre preserve in south-central New Mexico administered by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. The refuge was established in 1939 by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Each year, it’s estimated that between 10,000 and 30,000 migrating sandhill cranes come to the refuge and adjacent areas to feed and spend the winter. Geese and other waterfowl also spend the winter here, thanks to an intricate web of gates and channels which move water from the Rio Grande through fields and floodplains and back to the river, simulating the natural cycle that has been disrupted by decades of development and diversion.

Early Birds

As I exit the freeway and drive the five miles to my first stop, the anticipation starts to build, just as the light is beginning to build on the eastern horizon. The parking area near the pond comes into view and it is filled with vehicles. As I get closer, I can make out dozens of human silhouettes with tripods in front of them. Some have cameras mounted, while others support spotting scopes. Many people have cameras or binoculars on straps around their necks. Then, I see why they are there. Thousands of sandhill cranes are gathered in the shallow water around the edges of the pond. I park on the shoulder of the road, since the parking area is filled to capacity. While most of the people are either silent, or speaking in whispers, the birds are raucous and loud. The unmistakable cackling call that is unique to the species is nearly constant. The sense of wonder and awe is apparent on the faces surrounding me.

Rise and Shine

My heart is pounding with excitement as I grab my camera and find an open spot on the raised bank above the pond. The birds are beginning to fly, in small groups of four, six, eight, yet it’s still too dark for sharp images of birds in flight. Another photographer remarks to me that we need more light. I nod in agreement.

Up With the Sun

Then, the sun begins to break above the partly cloudy horizon, and suddenly flight photos are possible. As the sunrise continues, more and more birds take to the sky. The groups of cranes taking off from the pond are so frequent I hardly know which way to turn. They are flying to my right, my left, behind me, in front of me, in the distance, and just a few feet away. It’s almost dizzying as I try to decide which way to point the camera. I’m feeling good about my decision to leave the tripod in the car, but regret leaving the gloves. I can barely feel my fingers, but don’t want to take the short walk back to the car for fear I will miss the magical dawn light.

Three’s a Crowd

In less than an hour, the spectacle is over and there are only a handful of cranes left at the pond. As I return to the car, still shivering, partly from excitement and partly from cold, I realize the extra memory card I had in my hand before I set out is still on the table of my dinette–55 miles away! A quick pass through the images on my camera, deleting the ones that were too dark and out of focus, frees up some space for a drive around the auto tour route.

Snow Geese in Flight

Daylight has revealed some of the other species who call this place home. Raptors, herons, ducks and geese are awake and going about their lives amidst the ever-present and ubiquitous sandhill cranes. As I fill what’s left of the space on my camera’s memory card and head back to the place I’m calling home at the moment, there is a sense that I have experienced something very special and truly unforgettable.

Fall Heron

Visit the official page of Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge for more information.

Finding My Way Home – A New Direction

Best of 2020 and and The Challenges Ahead

For the Love of Wildlife

The Very Hungry Heron

America’s Public Lands – Bosque del Apache

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