I must confess; sometimes, briefly, I envy those people down on the shore with their foot-long (or more) lenses attached to their cameras, and their sturdy tripods to hold up those lenses, too heavy for human hands. Because they can point that equipment at a bird that we can all barely see, press the shutter button, and record the gleam in the bird's eye, while I'm still squinting into the light, wondering if that circle on the water was made by a diving duck or a loon.
Briefly. Then I look at the lenses: heavy. And the tripods: heavy and awkward. And am glad that I can be more flexible, and that my back doesn't ache, even if my birds are dots on the slough.
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| Woodhus Slough, with buffleheads and mallards. |
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| Bufflehead female, off Tyee Spit, with tree shadows. |
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| Coming closer: Barrow's Goldeneye female, by Tyee Spit airplane dock. |
A few minutes after I saw the Goldeneye, I was on my knees at an old log, taking photos of lichen and miniature polypores. Do that with your foot-long lens, will you?
Lovely shots! I know exactly what you mean about camera envy; I feel the same way about fancy cameras and folks with huge spotting scopes too. But as I've gotten more into butterflies and bugs, I find I'm just as happy examining what's close up as gazing off into the distance. Yes, it would be nice to count all the sandpipers on the very far shore of the lake, but how can I be sad when I'm watching the courtship antics of a pair of tiny grass skippers?
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