Because you asked

I was asked a few days ago about the microscope I am using. Mark thought I had done a post on this before (I think I did, ages and ages ago), but it's time for an update. I'll include the camera and lens info, too.

My equipment is basic, bare-bones, not expensive. The camera I'm using now is the Nikon D7500, upgraded recently from the old D7000 that was becoming increasingly temperamental.

I have several lenses, but mostly use the basic kit lens, 18 - 55 mm, for outdoor photos, because I never know if I'm going for a scenery shot or a mushroom, and I will not change lenses on the go; I'm sure to get dust inside. Inside, for casual shots, I'll use this lens, too.

Oyster Bay, long-range shot. 18-55 mm., shot at 18 mm.

I usually have the camera set to automatic everything; again, I want to be able to switch from a look at a flower to swivel and attempt to catch a bird before it dives, and have the camera adjust for the constantly changing light direction and strength. I usually keep moving, so I don't have the time to sit down and wait with the camera on fixed focus; sometimes I try it, although with poor results; the diving birds absolutely refuse to come up in the spot I've focussed on.

Chia in a bag. 18 - 55 mm, shot at 28 mm.

For aquariium photos, I switch to my 40 mm. lens. Although the kit lens will do 40 mm., the fixed lens allows me to get up to within an inch or even less of my subject. For unplanned shots, the camera and lens are on autofocus, because my critters are constantly in motion. For real close-ups I set the camera to manual and zoom in the view screen to focus on smaller points. Mostly, I take dozens of shots to get one decent one; did I mention that these beasties are constantly moving?

Sometimes I do a minor focus stack, when two or three photos manage to get a critter in one position, with different areas in focus.

I have a tripod. I rarely use it.

Asian mud snail, Batillaria attramentaria, in aquarium. 40 mm., manual focus, with flash, two shot stack.

The 40 mm. lens is greedy for light. I use all the light I can get: flashlights, daylight from the window, house lights, tank lights. Sometimes I use the flash, with a second flash slaved to it, but at really close ranges, the lens itself casts a shadow just where I want the light. I keep telling myself I should buy a ring light, and never get around to it.

The microscope is a cheap hobbyist toy, the Celestron MicroCapture Pro. It zooms to 200x, is a bit difficult to focus, but connects to the computer, which my other handheld did not.

Mud snail operculum, under the microscope.

I use Photoshop Elements to process the photos. I shoot in RAW, to be able to make sure the colours are as close to what I see as possible. The camera's JPEGs are widely variable.

Basically, I correct the colour and lighting, reduce noise, and sharpen. Sometimes I take out a bit of extraneous material, like the plastic bottle I left in yesterday.

Moss on a rock. 18 - 55 mm. 55 mm. bright sun. Two-shot stack, with minimal editing.

On aquarium shots, I also have conflicting algae spots on the glass, bubbles and speeding copepods, a messy background, uneven lighting, a shallow range of focus. Sometimes I have to spend more time cleaning these up.

One thing I've noticed. I'm getting older. My hands shake more than they used to. I get tired sooner. I find it harder to balance on rocking logs or slippery seaweed; then it's not only my hands that are shaking; it's all of me. I lose more photos because of the shakes.

But my eyes are still good. And the world around me is still as beautiful and fascinating as ever.

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Me preguntaron la semana pasada qué microscopio estoy usando. Mark pensaba que había escrito sobre eso en algún tiempo (creo que sí, pero hace siglos); ya era hora que me pusiera al corriente. Voy a incluir también los datos de la cámara y las lentes que uso.

Mi equipo es muy básico, económico, sin extras. La cámara que ahora tengo es el Niikon D7500, una nueva para tomar el lugar de la vieja D7000, que ya operaba cada vez más de mala gana.

Tengo varias lentes, pero uso principalmente la del kit original, de 18 a 55 mm., para fotos tomadas afuera de la casa, porque nunca sé si voy a estar tomando fotos de montañas o de honguitos, y me rehuso a cambiar lentes fuera de la casa; seguro sería que se me metiera algo de arena dentro de la cámara abierta. En casa, para fotos al azahar, uso esta lente también. 

Primera foto: Oyster Bay a marea baja, una distancia larga. La lente es la 18 a 55 mm., enfocada a 18 mm.

Casi siempre tengo la cámara puesta en modo automático, para todo; enfoque, luz, color, porque quiero poder cambiar instantáneamente de tomar una foto de una flor a voltear y tratar de capturar un pájaro antes de que se desaparezca, de mirar hacia la luz a dar la vuelta hacia las sombras. Casi siempre estoy en movimiento; no acostumbro sentarme con la cámara puesta en modo de enfoque manual. Algunas veces hago el intento, casi siempre con malos resultado porque los pájaros malcriados nunca salen a la superficie en el punto hacia donde estoy enfocando.

Segunda foto: la gata Chia en una bolsa de papel. La lente es 18 a 55 mm., enfocada a 28 mm.

Para fotos en el acuario uso la lente fija de 40 mm. Aunque la lente del kit podría enfocar a 40 mm., la lente fija me permite acercarme hasta a 2 cm. del sujeto. Si no tengo foto planeado, está puesta a enfoque automático, porque mis animalitos están en movimiento continuo. Para acercarme más, cambio a enfoque manual, y aumento la vista en la pantallita. Y saco docenas de fotos así para salir con una más o menos útil; ¿habré mencionado que estos bichos siempre se están moviendo?

A veces hago una unión de dos o tres fotos cuando un sujeto se queda casi sin moverse por unos minutos, así logrando tener enfocada una mayor parte del animal.

Tengo un tripode. Casi nunca la uso.

Tercera foto. Una caracol marino, Batillaria attramentaria en el acuario. La lente es 40 mm., enfoque manual, dos fotos con flash.

La lente de 40 mm. pide mucha luz. Uso todo lo que sea posible: luz del dia, luz de lámparas, luz del acuario, linterna. A veces puedo usar el flash, con un auxiliar que dispara al mismo instante, pero para fotos tomadas muy de cerca, la lente misma añade su sombra justo donde necesito la luz. Me digo siempre que debo comprarme una luz redonda para la lente, pero por alguna razón, siempre se me olvida.

El microscopio es casi un juguete, un microscopio "hobby", el Celestron MicroCapture Pro. Hace zoom hasta a 200 veces el tamaño natural, enfoca con una poca de dificultad, pero se conecta a la computadora, lo que no hacía el microscopio que antes usaba.

Cuarta foto: Otro caracol, mostrando su opérculo (la tapa que la encierra para esconderse).

Uso el programa de Photoshop Elements para procesar las fotos, porque saco fotos en formato RAW, para asegurar que las fotos salgan con los colores y la nivel de luz tal como las vi. En formato JPEG, las fotos salen muy variables.

Corrijo el color, la luz, bajo el nivel de ruido (manchas producidas por la cámara), y ajusto en enfoque un poquito. A veces borro un detalle que no debe estar en la foto, como la botella de plástico que no borré de la foto de ayer.

Quinta foto: musgo en una roca. Lente 18 a 55 mm., enfocada a 55 mm. Luz natural, dos fotos unidas, con modificaciones mínimas.

En las fotos en el acuario, también hay puntos de alga creciendo en el vidrio, burbujas, y copépodos nadando alrededor, un fondo algo enredado, niveles de luz variables, y una profundidad de enfoque limitado. A veces tengo que pasar más tiempo limpiando estas fotos.

Una cosa que se me ha presentado: me estoy haciendo vieja. Las manos me tiemblan más que antes. Me canso más. Se me hace más difícil balancearme sobre troncos inestables o sobre algas marinas resbalosas; en estos momentos no solo son las manos que tiemblan; me tiembla todo el cuerpo. Pierdo más fotos por estos temblores.

Pero los ojos todavía me sirven. Y el mundo alrededor es tan bello y fascinante como siempre.

Shy Napoleon

I tried out a new lens, a 70 - 300 mm. It turned out not to be really compatible with my camera body, so I returned it, but it would have been wonderful for those shy shorebirds. Here are some Bonaparte's gulls, well beyond the reach of my present lenses.

Bonaparte's gull, Xema sabini, non-breeding. In season they have black heads.

They are the smallest of our gulls, about the size of a crow, and relatively shy.

On the beach they are always foraging at the very edge of the water; they don't pester human visitors asking for treats.

I got too close. The leading edge of the wing shows white in flight. There's another gull flying with them, obviously larger, with a yellow bill. Bonaparte's have black bills.

The species is named for Charles Lucien Bonaparte, a French ornithologist (and nephew to the former French emperor Napoleon Bonaparte)... (Wikipedia)

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 ...

On Cameras and Water Droplets

It's carpet beetle season in the blogosphere.

Maybe I 'm exaggerating; let's downgrade that to, "several people have blogged about carpet beetles recently." That's here, on Tim Eisele's blog, and here, by David Brady, and my last Friday's post; "Do Beetles get hangovers?"

I'm bringing the discussion from Comments up to the front page; several issues merit further discussion.

1. Tim, Chalain and Snail are going to try the water and sugar tactics. I must add a couple of cautions.

Some time ago, I was investigating a few other of the tiny beasties; I can't remember which, at the moment. I discovered that, for the really small ones, I could trap them inside a droplet of water; they were not able to break the surface tension. With carpet beetles, they're not quite so vulnerable, but my little guy got stuck head-down in the droplet, until I siphoned a bit off with the corner of a paper towel. So, keep your droplets small.

Also, a drop of tap water, freshly drawn, has killed a few of the "tinies". Now, I use water that has been exposed to air for at least 24 hours, or rainwater from the garden. I imagine that it was the chlorination that caused the problem, and it evaporates off overnight.

2. Tim discussed our respective cameras and lenses on his blog.

Comparing their pictures to mine gives a good chance to see how much benefit I’m getting from the improvised macro lens made from a reversed SLR lens. David Brady (Insect Picture of the Day) uses a camera similar to mine (his is a Canon Powershot A640, I’m using an A95). I think that Wanderin’ Weeta is using a Canon A720 IS (another model in the same series, but with almost twice as much optical zoom as mine has). At any rate, we are probably all using cameras with broadly similar native optics to photograph essentially the same insect. The cameras with no supplementary macro lens, running only on their native macro mode, can get pictures that are good enough for identification of critters 2-3 mm long. But, there is a significant amount of blurring that is hazing out the details that are brought out using the macro lens. I’d say that the carpet beetles are about the smallest things that can be photographed decently with a stock consumer-grade camera, and a specialized macro lens gives pretty significant improvements at this size and smaller.

Yes, Tim, I'm using the Canon A720. I've only had it a month, so am still experimenting with lenses. Blurring is a definite problem.

There is a Macro lens available for this camera; I have not yet investigated it, but will soon. I use the home-made lens I cobbled together (with a card tube, lenses pirated from an old pair of binoculars, and electrician's tape) for use with the beginner's Kodak.

Homemade lenses.

And this is odd: I stacked the lenses anyhow, not knowing which was the best arrangement. When the photos came out ok, I taped the stack together. Call that #1. Later, I added a removable lens from a hand-held magnifying glass. #2. It worked. As well as could be expected, given the rudimentary equipment.

With the Canon, that arrangement makes no difference whatsoever; the camera set on macro mode, with nothing added gives me an identical result. But when I turn the #1 stack backwards, with #2 at the previous inner end, and the camera on full optical Zoom, I get a nice enlarged view.

I have since taped on another little lens, from an old slide projector, in the middle of the stack. I think it will help. And I'm playing with different lighting arrangements.

I look at better, more expensive cameras, and drool. Some day, I will get one. But for now, I am learning a lot about the effects of lighting, lenses, and settings; I am content.

3. About the beetles themselves.

From Tim, again:

Something that Wanderin’ Weeta pointed out is that there are slight depressions on the beetle underside that the legs can socket into, making a nearly flat surface. I expect that this is so that, when the beetle is getting knocked around (as commonly happens to beetles), the legs can be pulled out of harm’s way rather than getting snapped off.

I found my lost photo of the leg sockets. (I thought I had deleted it by mistake, but it was just misfiled.)


The slots on either side, where the hind legs disappear to, are quite clear. But now, look at this:


The beetle was struggling madly to get himself flipped over onto his legs. The procedure involves rapid contortions and flapping of wings; after many failed attempts (much to the beetle's disgust, I am sure), I managed to catch him in the act. The photo is blurry, but you can see how the "slots" are really a division between the two major segments of the beetle's belly covering. Here they are separated quite widely, as he bends his body backwards. So he pulls the hind legs into this crack, much as a turtle does.