Test shot: cloudy night, with moon

As I was coming home tonight, the moon was playing peek-a-boo behind dark clouds. I stopped in a handy parking lot to get a photo before they swallowed it altogether.

No man in this moon.

The little pocket Sony was fast enough to deal with camera shake without a tripod in the dark. (The curvy car door doesn't make a good substitute.) The background was noisy, though; I don't know if all the colours were from the Home Depot lights behind me, or from the moon's halo in the clouds.

Pink beach

I made a quick run to the beach to pick up goodies for my hermits and crabs, but it's been a busy day, and by the time I drove into Beach Grove, the sun was setting behind me.  The tide was halfway out, and the beach, when I finally got there, was dark grey, except where tidepools reflected the pink of the clouds above. There were a couple of ducks and a heron in the distance, and I could hear gulls arguing over supper, but couldn't see them in the dusk.

A perfect time to try out a new camera, right? I took a half dozen photos, then got to work looking for eelgrass. By shape; I couldn't see colours any more, other than the pink sheen on wet areas.

The ducks. At maximum zoom, in the dusk. The photo turned out lighter than what I was seeing. Yes, the water was pink. What looks like a dead body on the sand is a log.

With the pink light, even mud with worm poop looks good.

I chased down the heron, but he flew away and all I got was a blur of wings. And by the time I'd collected my small bag of seaweeds (mostly rockweed and a kelp holdfast), the first star was out. Time for coffee at Tim Horton's, and the road home.

My hermits are happy tonight, swarming over the seaweeds and peeling the skin off the holdfast.

Trial and error and error and error

I bought myself a gizmo to slave* an auxiliary flash to my on-camera flash, hoping to get more light on my tiny critters, and even out the shadows.

*(How it works; a sensor in the box sees the flash go off on my camera and instantly sets off the flash attached to it. I can put it anywhere, nearby or not so near, behind, above, beside, bouncing off a reflector or straight at my critter.)

And since then, for the last two days, I've been spending every spare minute learning how and where to put it. By trial and error, of course; and mainly error. Like shooting an entire series of a running carpet beetle larva, and then finding out that I'd forgotten to turn on the extra flash. Or shooting through a separate lens without checking to see how clean it was. After half a dozen sessions of this, the larva is not pleased with me, at all.

Meanwhile, isn't this a pretty baby slug?

Sleeping 1/2 inch slug on a wet maple leaf. Taken with only the on-camera flash.

More trials tomorrow. I've had it for today. So has my larva.

We are so spoiled!

We were discussing cameras, as we often do, and Laurie mentioned a Bilora Radix that he bought in the 1970s. He didn't use it long, because the film had to be removed and replaced in a darkroom, and it got expensive.

 "... it uses the Agfa Rapid (or Karat) system, in which 35mm film is loaded into a spool free cassette, and advanced by direct driving of the sprockets into another cassette." (Link)

"I still have it, though," Laurie said. He's a hoarder.

He dug it out for me. It's a little camera, 4 1/2 inches long, about the size of my little Nikon Coolpix, but much heavier. German-made, and solid. It takes a special film, producing 24 x 24 mm photos in a roll of 36. Laurie's was made in 1949 or '50; it was well used when he bought it. He shot in black and white. Colour rolls were expensive and had to be developed in a special lab.

Front view.

The lens (5.6/38, or 40mm) had very little play; turning it extended it barely 1/4 of an inch. The little round dial at the top shows the aperture, but is almost impossible to read.

There is a slider just under the lens, but not visible in this photo. I can't figure out what it does. By the time Laurie got the camera, the manual was long gone.

Top view

The toothed lever at the top right operates the shutter. It was a little sticky, after some 40 years stuck away in a drawer, but loosened up quickly. It advances the film nicely; the number of photos taken shows in the window below. 10, here, after a few trial clicks.

At the far right, on the side is a plug-in for a remote shutter cable, probably just a flexible wire operating a plunger. On the left there is another plug-in, this one probably for a flash attachment. The company added a flash shoe to the 1951 model.

The toothed lever on the lens closes or opens plates to regulate the amount of light.

The aperture setting regulates the light, as well as changing the depth of field.

Back view.

That lever at the top right advances the film. It only works once after each shot taken.

The wheel in the centre is the locking mechanism for the film cover. I took it off, and discovered a film in it, which means that I ruined about 3 frames by letting in light. I closed the back and advanced the film three spaces. Maybe, possibly, if we're lucky, we might be able to get 23 photos out of this.

That's assuming, of course that the film hasn't completely deteriorated. But another camera collector got a decent photo with 30-year-old film, so there's hope.

But then again, there's the shutter and lens:

Lens and shutter plates, badly corroded.

The blades work, but they feel gritty. And the inner lens is dusty. No wonder! 63 years; even bagged, in a dresser drawer, entropy happens.

It worked nicely, back in the 1970s, though; here's a sample.

Penny

She's Laurie's dog, taken at Ryder Lake, in the hills above Chilliwack. The photo was dusty and faded to sepia, so I cleaned it and restored it to black and white. Otherwise, it is as taken.

I have never been so grateful for my modern cameras with all their automatic settings, the instant adjustments, the load capacity (hundreds of photos without a break!); and the ability to process them all myself, and without a darkroom!

We are so spoiled!

Ant rescues sugar, I rescue ant photos

Ant with sugar cubes . . .

Trying to get a grip on it to haul it home.

This one was too big.

What a difference a bit of software makes! These photos were taken with the old Canon A720, back in 2008. I was using Piknik, if I remember correctly, to crop and lighten up, but that was it. The photos turned out dark, noisy, and brown, except for the one where the lighting was ideal. I found them tonight (looking for sky photos for Skywatch, but I'm always too distractable) and thought I might have a look at what Photoshop Elements could do. A few basic tweaks: levels, saturation, spot remover, and sharpening: and they're totally different!

Not a Skywatch post. Our skies these days are hopeless; grey on grey, with overtones of grey.

Testing a new flash attachment

I have two flashes, hand-me-downs from my daughter, that fit the old Olympus camera. But I couldn't get them into the shoe on the little Nikon I'm using, until today; the problem was an almost invisible second adjusting ring. Once I found it, half a turn did the trick. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening testing the smaller flash out. (The big one is about three times the size of the camera, and twice its weight. It will work with a tripod, but live bugs and hermit crabs don't stay put that well.)

With a macro lens attached to the camera (even my little homemade item), the on-camera flash creates a dark shadow that covers the creature I'm focusing on. The extra angle on the new flash, five inches above the lens, makes a big difference. And I modified my light box to a light cone, to redirect the light. Then I took over a hundred test shots of a wasp that I caught months ago, and couldn't get any decent photos of.

A few sample shots:

Unidentified wasp, 1.5 cm long. Very dusty and dessicated, but not too damaged.

I love those yellow and black, curly antennae!

Zooming in. No depth of field at this range.

I haven't identified this, nor did I send any photos to BugGuide when it was new; my photos were just black on black, with no distinguishing features. I'll send in these, see what they say.

Tomorrow, we're going to Tsawwassen for a pottery sale. It will be Laurie's first outing since his fall. I hope the sun shines!

Ma Squirrel

I'm getting the hang of positioning and focusing the BirdCam. For now, it goes on the ground in the daytime, on the tripod at night. The nights have been quiet, but by day, I'm seeing chickadees and a black squirrel that never stops moving.

Today, a grey female showed up:

Hello? Did I hear a click?

"Again? Do I need to worry?"

No, little one; no worries. And I see you have kits; 6 hungry kits. Eat up, eat up! There's more where that came from.

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And now it's only four days until Rock Flipping Day, this Sunday, September 9th. I've invited a 6-foot teenager to come and help me with a couple of big rocks across the street.

Instructions, history, etc.

Decapitated raccoon

Lee Vallley Tools included an Audubon BirdCam in their latest catalogue, with a motion sensor and a flash; it would run at night, and the price was right. I ordered one (I call it a RaccoonCam, though).

I picked it up the other day, and got it set up last night for a trial run. I am not sure of the settings yet, and it is difficult to aim; there's no viewfinder, and getting it closed down and locked always jiggles it a bit. I just set it on the ground for the first test.

It worked, the first night! Sort of.

Fat raccoon, eating my parsley. (See that pink tongue?)

And drinking the birds' bath water.

Baby steps, baby steps. I've got it on a tripod now; maybe the next photos will actually get the whole animal.

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Once again, a reminder: Rock Flipping Day is next Sunday, a week from today, September 9th. Instructions, history, etc.

Last year, several people wrote later, to say that they had intended to join in, but forgot until it was too late. So this year, I'm harping on the date. You can help by passing the word along. Thanks!

Pink and white spiral

I'm revisiting old photos, taking new ones with the latest camera rig. This is a button top snail shell, Umbonium.

On the making of the DIY $2.00 lens that I used, tomorrow.

One eye, one wing.

I've had rather an exciting day, in spite of being shut in by heavy rain. First, I've been testing out a new camera, a Nikon CoolPix P7000; we bought it for Laurie because he wanted something small that would fit in a pocket, so he'd always have it handy. In the field, though, he wasn't too happy with its zoom. So I'll be using it for a desk camera, now that there's sand in the lens of my poor little Sony.

I tried it out on a few dead bugs I had on hand, alternating with the Sony for comparison. And I'm happy! It can use the home-made macro lens that I made to fit the Sony, with only a little adjustment. It's fast and sharp, and zooms in closer than the Sony. It has a shoe, so it can take the big flash, which gives better coverage. I haven't tried that yet; I will soon.

I've tried to get those wonderful compound eyes of some insects many times. It never works, and I've been wondering if I should invest in one of those arm-and-a-leg cameras with an extra macro lens. Maybe I will, some day. Not now; look what the CoolPix gave me on the first trial!

Eye of a fly I found on my car.

I hadn't figured out how to set the white balance yet, so the tiny squashed fly* I worked on didn't turn out too well; the Sony did better. It picked out the detail on the one surviving wing; look at this; I've never seen veins like these before:

Each vein is feathered, and the whole wing fringed.

I don't know if it will be possible to identify the fly, since the whole front end is battered, but maybe that wing will do the trick.

And just when I was putting away the cameras and bugs, I happened to notice my spider-in-residence acting strangely. He was just starting to molt, and I got to watch the whole process from start to finish; it took about 4 hours. Story tomorrow ...

*Looks like a mosquito. Thanks for the correction, Christopher!

Of bugs, flowers, and muddy lenses

I came home from hours of driving in the hot sun, in the front door and straight out the back to the shady garden. So cool! So green! So easy on the eyes! So buggy! I went back in for the camera and macro lens.

Fly on London Pride flowers

Delicate bloom of London Pride. Taken with macro lens.

American House spider. One of Fat Momma's great-greats.

While I was up on a ladder taking this photo, I dropped the camera. It was on a cord around my neck, so no harm done, but the macro lens fell off, landed in the damp mud of the garden, and split in half. This isn't as bad as it sounds; it's a home-made stack, which cost me nothing but work. I can fix it, given a slow, rainy day.

But I needed it for bugs. Or maybe not; I went in and brought out my old Olympus (SP55OUZ), which I had almost stopped using, because it got dust inside the lens. (At London Drugs, where I bought it, they told me the repair would cost more than the camera.) Sometimes, especially if I use the flash, the spots show up on the photo. But it takes good macro photos, as long as I remove the spots later.

I decided to experiment; take the same photo with the little Sony (Cybershot) and with the Olympus, then compare them.

Petunia. With the Sony. The Olympus needs more light.

Dutchman's Breeches. With the Sony.

Harvestman on hydrangea leaf. Sony

Harvestman under hydrangea leaf. With the Olympus. Almost enough light.

Tiny Cross spider. With the Olympus and flash. I couldn't get close enough to focus with the Sony without scaring the spider away.

Rhododendron buds. Sony. The Olympus doesn't like extreme lighting.

Ant in center of rhododendron. Sony. Not enough light for the Olympus. It doesn't allow flash with Super-Macro.

Bee on rhodo bud. Note the yellow pollen sac on his leg. Sony. The Olympus was 'way too slow.

Rhododendrons in the shade with sunlit trees behind. Almost looks artificial. Sony, again.

The upshot of all this is that I am still happy with the little Sony; it's fast, it's light, and it handles contrasts well. I can take photos one-handed, which helps when I'm up ladders. On the downside, it doesn't focus if the surroundings are too busy, and the flash is unpredictable. When it all works, it's great. But I need to keep using the Olympus; given enough light and time, it does much better on tiny bugs, as long as they're sitting still.

And maybe, when I rebuild the macro lens, I can adjust it more carefully to the Sony. I think I'll put it on a strap, too.

Blue water, blue birds

I've got the blues ...

Taking photos at a birthday party in a living room with deep red walls and not enough light, I played around with my camera settings and white balance. The photos turned out ok, but I forgot to switch everything back. Oops!

On White Rock beach, the next day, all my photos came out blue, blue, very blue. And all my efforts to fix them only made them harsh and artificial.

Here are a couple of blue gulls, with as much colour correction as I could manage:

I loved the pale browns of the wing pattern. Oh, well.

Blue or not, this guy's happy! A whole big sole to himself!

New addition to check list for each day's prep:

1. Empty memory
2. Recharge battery
3. Replace clean lens cloth
4. Check settings!

Blue bird

Shrimp feathers, crumpled moth, eye of hermit...

I've been experimenting with settings and lens configurations on the baby Sony. I'm still impressed with what a tiny point-and-shoot can do. These are a few samples from tonight's work.

Through the glass of the aquarium:

Eye of hermit. Big Blue, IIRC.

Carapace of smallest shrimp, with one fuzzy eye. The carapace is transparent. I think the pinkish blob is a stomach. But what are those feathery shapes behind it?*

*Gills. Hugh explains in the comments.

Looking down a hermit's throat.

With this arrangement - camera lens zoomed to its maximum, homemade lens attached in front - I have very little leeway. The field is shallow, and the subject has to be less than 1 1/2 inches away. At least, in this camera, the flash works even nose to nose. That helps.

And I keep a couple of long-dead, dry-land critters to practice on:

Crumpled 1/2 inch long moth.

And a faded, dusty carpet beetle. 1 mm. long. I don't seem to find any live ones these days.

The whole moth, taken with all automatic settings and no extra lens.

Next, I'll take apart my lens, clean it, and rebuild it for a tighter fit. And hope I don't ruin it in the process.

Tiny, but fat. Globular, even.

These cuties were in a dish of moss flanked by two rusty birds.

Bird with globular springtail (Dicyrtomina ornata?) on his beak.

Heading down to the moss. They don't like my light.

Two springtails in the moss.

Another view. The moss is under an inch tall, the springtail around 1 mm. long.

Zooming in.

I notice little spikes coming out of the tail end, on this one and another couple. Hairs, or tubes?  Frans Janssens mentions wax excretions, with a similar photo. I must e-mail him to ask about them.

And, in reply to Anon. in recent comments, these last three photos were taken with the little Sony and that old homemade lens. It gives me about an extra 2x magnification. Now to upgrade it ...

Babies, stick-in-the-muds, and Big Blue

It rained or blew all day. I puttered around, doing laundry and other uninspiring chores, and then rewarded myself, playing with my new toy, the little Sony Laurie bought me.

These are more or less random shots from the aquarium (random, in that I pointed the camera at anything that found itself a decent background.) with the camera still set on automatic everything, but without flash.

Ma Crab, in berry again. Showing off the feathery swimmerets that hold the developing eggs.

Close view of the babies. The eggs are transparent, so the eyes are visible.

These photos worked out much better than the ones I was taking with the Olympus, mostly because the camera is so fast and steady; Ma Crab kept moving about, but I was still able to get several decent shots, even this close.

Big Blue

Nothing needed to be adjusted in this photo but the white balance, to cope with the mixed lighting I was using. And, of course, cropping and resizing for the blog.

The small, stay-at-home anemones on the far wall.

The big, wandering anemone. I think he's grown another half-inch since he moved close to the pump.

I did clean this one up, just a bit, to reduce a too-bright light shining through the water surface at the upper left. There's still a hint of camera reflection, which I left untouched, and a few floaters. And again, cropping, white balance, and resizing.

I am more impressed with the camera with every session. So far, it's living up to the salesman's spiel.