Birds and their perches

click photo to enlarge
Avian vantage points vary from species to species. In my garden the jackdaws tend to stay high, favouring chimney pots and roof ridges. The blackbirds are often seen on top of the clothes posts, on the security lights, and on middling branches of the trees. The mistle thrushes are almost always on the topmost branches of the tallest trees, particularly liking the poplar and eucalyptus. Out in the countryside buzzards are commonly on the dead branches of large trees such as oaks, though kestrels prefer telephone wires and posts of any kind.

But what about gulls? In coastal towns where there are no cliffs the tops of houses and their chimneys provide good places to survey the land. So too do tall street lights. However, on a recent trip into Boston, Lincolnshire, I spotted a gull on a sculpture. Nothing unusual about that I suppose; gulls can often be seen perched on the heads of statues erected to the great and good making them look slightly ridiculous. And even when they are absent from these favoured positions their presence at other times is evident from the "deposits" that they leave behind.

However, this gull had chosen a sculpture of a different bird species on which to perch. The former Fogarty Feather Factory is surmounted by a large mute swan in recognition of its role as a centre of the manufacture of pillows, eiderdowns etc. Today the factory houses flats, but the swan remains, and on the day I passed by it offered a vantage point for a solitary gull. The sight of it immediately suggested that my two earlier photographs of birds on bird sculptures - see this one from Southport and this one from London - could be complemented by a third. It's not a great photograph, just a bit of fun to brighten a cold February afternoon.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 282mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Earrings and bokeh

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My first SLR, bought around 1972 was a 35mm Zenith E with a 58mm f2 lens, a Russian-made camera, all an impecunious student could afford. But, compared with the pocket camera that I had been using up to that point, it offered me so much more. The low-light abilities were streets ahead of cheaper cameras, and the shallow depth of field that the lens allowed opened up greater creative possibilities.When I bought a 135mm lens I felt that most of the subjects I wanted to photograph were within my grasp.

In those days I favoured black and white, and in time did quite a bit of my own printing. When it came to portraits I really made use to the out-of-focus capabilities of the camera and its lenses. At that time the word "bokeh" to describe this blur wasn't used in English-speaking photographic circles. In fact, I didn't hear it until about ten years ago, though I read that it was first used outside Japan several years earlier. This ability to blur the background is one of the things that anyone transferring from a digital compact camera with a small sensor to a DSLR with a larger sensor notices and appreciates. Some people make the transition simply to achieve this quality that they have seen and want to emulate. But the fact is many small sensor cameras are capable of producing out-of-focus blur (or bokeh). Models with wide or normal focal length lenses can often do it when set to macro, and so-called "bridge" cameras with their very long telephotos can do it at longer focal lengths  as well as in macro mode.

Today's photograph is a case in point. It was taken using my LX3 in macro mode with the lens at its widest (24mm/35mm equiv.) very close to the subject. The f2 lens and the 43 sq.mm sensor produce an extremely shallow depth of field in these circumstances, which for some subjects produces interesting and pleasing effects. My image shows a pair of my wife's earrings. They are made from the "eyes" of a couple of moulted peacock tail  feathers with beads fixed to the barbs. I placed them on a sheet of black vinyl for the photograph, and was pleased by the detail the lens revealed and the pleasant bokeh, particularly in the curves of beads of the more distant of the two earrings.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Beautiful feathers

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I love individual colours, and have favourites that I appreciate whenever I see them. In a recent post I spoke about my liking for blues and greens, and commented that I'm a fairly typical man as far as my general taste goes. However, for me, colours that I wouldn't place amongst my favourites take on a new significance when paired with a suitable companion. In fact, I find that colours often work best in combination, something that artists and designers have known for years.

In that earlier post I spoke about how certain hues of yellow and pink, colours that I don't usually favour, can look great when placed togethre. And, in a post of last year I commented on how Jean-Honore Fragonard's painting called The Swing opened my eyes to the beauty of shades of pink next to turquoise hues. On that occasion I was speaking about Fragonard in the context of my photograph of orange Chinese Lanterns (Physalis franchetti) in a blue/green vase, another colour combination that appeals to me. Today's photograph is a re-working of that theme, but improved by the the blue having an iridescence that includes green and purple, and the orange having a hint of brown making it more of a "burnt orange". I find these rich, lustrous hues absolutely stunning, and think it small wonder that such deeply coloured feathers were once appropriated for women's clothes and hats.

I was glad that the owner of these feathers hadn't had them taken for other purposes, and further delighted by how he stood proudly on a wall near a churchyard, showing them off, allowing me to get this photograph.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250 seconds
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Bird books and memories

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The other day I took down a book from my shelves for no good reason other than I hadn't looked at it for a while. It was British Birds by F.B. Kirkman and F.C.R. Jourdain. My edition dates from 1966, the year I bought it in Kirkby Lonsdale as a teenage birdwatcher holidaying with relatives at nearby Whittington. It looks quite old-fashioned today with its painted illustrations (called Plates, and numbered), and text divided into sections headed Description, Range and Habitat, Nest and Eggs, Food, and Usual Notes (i.e. song or call). Moreover, the order of the species is not as we would now expect, but starts with Crows and ends with Divers. A further quirk is the page numbering that counts only the text pages, something that is quite common in C19 books. In fact, this book looked old-fashioned in 1966, and with good reason: the first edition was printed in 1930, was based on the British Bird Book (ed. Kirkman) of 1910-1913, and uses the same 200 illustrations.

It was those paintings, as well as the quality of the book, and the final section with paintings of all the species' eggs lined up as in a Victorian collector's cabinets, that led me to buy it. The main plates are in a range of styles by a variety of artists, usually showing the bird in its habitat. Most are the work of A.W. Seaby, but there are contributions by G.W. Collins, Winifred Austen and H. Gronvold. For the purposes of identifying the species the pictures leave a little to be desired, but as individual paintings of wild birds they are charming: they appealed to a teenager, and they appeal to me still.

As I renewed my acquaintance with the book and flicked through the pages, stopping at birds that caught my eye, I came to the Teal (Anas crecca), and out from the page dropped a little collection of feathers of that species. Watching them float slowly to the floor I was immediately transported back to the pond on Docker Moor where I found them among the rushes after I'd inadvertently flushed the birds from the water side. They were from the flanks, scapulars or back of the birds, and had lain undisturbed between the pages for more than forty years.

What do you do when you find a group of feathers like this? Photograph them of course! My first image is in the style of the Victorian collectors, with the feathers laid out not quite randomly on a white background. The second is what I see as a more modern approach, a closer view making more of the brown and white striations by the use of a black background.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

First image
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm macro (70mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 1/5 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Second image
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm macro (70mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 1/2 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

John Ruskin and the peacock

click photo to enlarge
"Remember that the most beautiful things in the world are the most useless; peacocks and lilies for instance."
John Ruskin (1819-1900) English art critic, social critic, artist, etc,
from "The Stones of Venice" (1851)

Many years ago I read "The Stones of Venice" and "The Seven Lamps of Architecture" one after the other and ended up with "Ruskindigestion"! Both books are fascinating and important documents in the history of art and architecture, but as you read them you feel that you are being so stuffed full of the author's "moral truths" that you'll burst.

John Ruskin was a man of decided opinions about painting (direct observation was vital), architecture (Classical bad, Gothic - especially the Venetian variety - good), society (he extolled the virtues of the medieval period and decried the values of the industrial revolution), and much else too. I took away from the books much interesting information about art and architecture, but also amazement that a man could be so utterly convinced of his own rightness. Not a single doubt seemed to exist in Ruskin's head. Every opinion was held with absolute conviction.

I suppose that comes through in the quotation at the head of this piece. It's an absurd statement, ridiculously dogmatic, and easily disproved. Yet, I was delighted to read it! Because what made Ruskin great, for me, were his powerful insights that he couldn't have had without being so strongly convinced of his own point of view. For every statement that we can disagree with - "I do not believe that ever any building was truly great, unless it had mighty masses, vigorous and deep, of shadow mingled with its surface" is another such - there is also an abundance that are felicitously expressed and contain deep truths. So, when I read, "Fine art is that in which the hand, the head and the heart of man go together" I can only agree. As an educator I was impressed by his statement about education: "The entire object of true education is to make people not merely do the right things, but enjoy them; not merely be industrious, but love industry; not merely learn, but love knowledge; not merely be pure, but love purity; not merely be just, but hunger and thirst after justice". And when I came across, "Quality is never an accident, it is always the result of intelligent effort", I could only say "Amen!" Ruskin is still worth reading today. If you haven't the time or inclination for a book (or two) look up some of his quotations: they are frequently perceptive, often opinionated, and sometimes plain wrong! But they're always interesting.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm macro (70mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/2
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

Feather

click photo to enlarge

"Birdbrain n. colloq. a stupid or flighty person" (Concise Oxford Dictionary).

Anyone with a passing interest or proximity to birds can't help but notice the seeming dim-wittedness of our avian friends. I feed the birds each morning, putting some food on a bird table, and the remainder at various locations around my house. The bird table used to be the domain of a group of about 30 house sparrows that frequent a hedge near my kitchen window. However, for the past few weeks a particularly belligerent female blackbird has taken command of this feeding station, and spends her time hastily swallowing food between attempts to deny any to the sparrows. And she's successful. But, she must use as much or more energy in her displays of aggression as she gets from the food! Furthermore, 30 sparrows acting together should easily be able to dislodge a single blackbird. But they waste their time and energy taking turns to hover around the bird table, out of range of the blackbird's beak, in futile attempts to get the food. Birdbrained indeed.

However, in my experience few of our feathered friends can demonstrate feeble-mindedness as well as the guinea-fowl. A memory of my early teenage years is being sent into the woods by my uncle to find their nests. They were spread over a wide area, were never near their enclosure, with many simply abandoned, forgotten by their owners. My friends' guinea-fowl are equally imbecilic, and can spend literally hours walking back and forth alongside a fence searching for a way through, with no thought that they can simply flap their wings and fly over it.

Today's photograph is a feather from one of those guinea-fowl. What a beautiful object this small thing is, and how much more is revealed by the close inspection that a macro lens allows. I shot the feather (not the guinea-fowl!) in strong, natural side-light, on a dark background of textured plastic to restrict the colour range and accentuate the patterns. Birdbrained though they are, it is easy to forgive birds their mindlessness for the great beauty of their form and song, and for the pleasure that their company brings to our lives.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm macro (70mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f18
Shutter Speed: 1/2
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7EV
Image Stabilisation: Off