Colour in winter

click photo to enlarge
Colour in photographs is harder to find in a northern hemisphere winter than at any other time of the year. Invariably, as the darker, colder months progress, I find myself searching for colourful subjects to brighten up my photographic output. Sunny days and blue skies, perhaps with snow, often do the trick. However, this year has been notably overcast, mild and wet, so such conditions have been scarce or non-existent. Night time photographs are another source of winter colour, as are fiery sunrises and sunsets.

A different approach to satisfying this craving for colour is to search out those that do exist, no matter how small, and make the most of them. That was my approach with this photograph. Drake mallards, like most ducks, display the brightest colours in autumn, winter and spring. This tame example in a park was caught in a low shaft of sunlight coming through the trees, making the colours appear even brighter against the dark water. I chose this composition to make the most of the colours rather than to illustrate the bird. I was particularly pleased that the water added blue to the bright yellow, green and reddish brown.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Mallard Colours
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 96mm (192mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:640
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Living in the past?

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Getting older gives you perspective and with perspective comes humility. At least that's what happens for many people. As teenagers people are often self-absorbed, the centre of their own little universe about which everything revolves. Then, as we age, start a family and shoulder the attendant responsibilities of partner, children and work, the inward focus continues. It is less marked than in our younger years because the compass of our lives extends, but it is there nonetheless. Often it's not until our offspring have departed the nest that people experience sufficient time to pause and reflect in a more considered way about the three big questions in life - "Who are we, whence come we, whither go we" (as Gauguin put it). And with retirement the viewpoint and perspective that age brings throws these questions into sharper relief.

It's natural at that point to reflect on yourself as a person. One thing that many older people conclude (I am one of them) is that the extent to which we are like other people is much greater than the extent to which we are different from them. This is something that teenagers find hard to accept and which might account for the sometimes extraordinary lengths they go to in order to dress and behave like their friends. It's also natural, with greater age, to look back at your life, to consider how it was different from today and to make value judgements about whether it was better or not. This, as I've said elsewhere in the blog, is a path fraught with dangers and delusions. And then there's the rather less problematic fondness that can grow for the objects and habits of our past - the artefacts, vehicles, ways of living etc that we experienced as our younger selves.

I was thinking about this the other morning as I watched a railway artist paint a picture of the locomotive, "Mallard". This was the LNER Class A4 steam engine designed by Sir Nigel Gresley that in 1938 achieved the world speed record of 125.88 mph (202.58 km/h) for a steam-powered locomotives, a record that still stands today. The artist was plying his trade at an exhibition of transport models - trains, boats etc - and must have been painting this particular subject with an eye to the 75th anniversary of that record-breaking run - it falls on 3rd July of this year - and the sort of person who was a potential customer. On looking round it was clear that the great majority of exhibitors and most of the visitors were aged sixty or older, that it wasn't only the fact that they had the time to indulge in their hobby that caused them to pick this one, it was also their age. It seemed to me that a sort of second childhood was upon them - and they were thoroughly enjoying it!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed:1/30
ISO: 1000
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: N/A

Water birds, weirs and what ifs

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Freshwater birds, by and large, prefer calm water. Most ducks, waders, herons and smaller species find their food, raise their young and spend their days around slow moving rivers or open expanses of water. There are exceptions of course. Dippers only frequent quickly running rivers and streams, and grey wagtails, though they are found in a range of waterside locations, prefer the quicker stretches of a river. Common sandpipers aren't averse to such locations either. I've seen adult red breasted mergansers with a brood of fluffy chicks bouncing down a steep and stony Lakeland beck, but for most of the year these birds too will choose the calmer reaches of rivers, lakes and even the sea. Certainly common ducks such as the mallard generally favour ponds, meres, lakes and sluggish rivers.

Where a river has a weir the water above the drop is often flat and calm. I've watched mallard and tufted duck as well as coot and moorhen feeding in such places, dabbling or diving as the pull of the water slowly draws them to the tipping point, then paddling away from the edge as they get too close. I've often wondered if at such times, a bird that is distracted by the prospect of a tasty morsel, ever loses its sense of where it is relative to the weir and is drawn over the edge. It's not something I've ever seen happen. Until the other day when we were at Cogglesford Mill in Sleaford.

I took a photograph at this location a few weeks ago, and as I stood at the same spot again I saw a pair of mallard being pulled towards the falling water. The male kept out of harms way, but the female drifted over the edge. However, rather than dropping into the foaming water below, she extended her wings, flapped them very purposefully and in combination with walking on the water, got herself back to swimming again. Unfortunately, by the time I raised my camera to my eye this scene was played out. But I did get this shot with the still disturbed water going over the weir's edge and the female heading for a safer spot.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm
F No: 7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -1.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Mudlarking

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On a couple of recent visits to London I've done a bit of "mudlarking". For centuries the banks of River Thames, when they are revealed by the tide, have attracted "mud larks"; people who have scavenged in the mud, sand and shingle for whatever they could find. In Victorian times it might have been scrap metal, stone, bricks, timber for re-use or for the fire, lost money - in fact anything of interest or that could be sold. Today people look for historical artefacts as well as more recent items of use or value. In 1980 the Society of Thames Mudlarks was founded with the express purpose of unearthing archaeological objects and making them known to the Museum of London. Over 200 items have been given to the Museum so far including jewellery, Tudor bricks, clay pipes and coins.

My mudlarking was much more casual - no metal detector or other high-tech aid - only my eyes and a spare half hour or so. Nonetheless we have found quite a few pieces of Victorian clay pipes (the smoker's variety) and a brick marked with the Star of David not unlike this one. The design on the brick marked it out as one made by P. & S. Wood of the Pump House Brickworks, West Bromwich, a firm active in the nineteenth century, who sold their wares over a wide area of the country.

One of the difficulties in mudlarking is the constituent materials of the bed of the Thames. The mud is very sticky, with regular areas of firm (but also sticky) clay. Banks of sand and pebble are easier, and it's these we searched. However, the ducks of the river have no problems with the mud, or with the modern detritus that finds its way into the water. Near the area where we had been looking I came upon these mallards - a male and female - going about their business regardless of the fact that their immediate habitat was a topless 40 gallon drum, a discarded and discoloured plastic road cone, and a piece of driftwood. In fact the female's head regularly disappeared under the water in the expectation that she would find food there. And who knows, perhaps she did!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/2000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Ducks and terms of endearment

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Say "ducks" and the image that will pop into the head of most people is either the white "farmyard" variety or the mallard.

I don't think the white duck comes to mind because of its ubiquity: they're certainly not uncommon, but they're by no means the most widely seen duck. No, I have a feeling that the prevalence of this "type" in children's picture books is responsible for the association. We've all seen the illustrations of them waddling along, quite upright, snow white with orange legs and beaks, often wearing a bonnet or carrying a hand-bag!

The mallard (Anas platyrhynchos), the commonest wild duck, is the variety that we see the most. Despite being the quarry of wildfowlers, the species is happy to live both a wild life and in close proximity to man, being found in most built-up areas, on streams, rivers, ponds and lakes. It was probably always thus, because this species is, in fact, the ancestor of the domestic farmyard duck, of which the white variety is but one type. Furthermore, the wild mallard frequently inter-breeds with domestic ducks to produce birds that show characteristics of both parents. You can usually tell if a mallard forms part of the parentage because the colour of the wing speculum - it is dark blue, with white borders - often remains in the hybrid. If that characteristic has disappeared through successive inter-breedings, then the upcurled central tail feathers are the other indicator (on the male). So, that being the case, you'll know the breed and sex of the nearest bird in today's photograph despite the fact that it is a silhouette having been shot against the light, under a tree, by the edge of a stream!

But, I can't leave this subject without noting that in my county of recent residence, Lincolnshire, "ducks" (invariably the plural) is a widely used term of endearment, applied by women to strangers as well as friends. Go into a shop to buy a newspaper, and the assistant is very likely to say "thank you ducks" as you hand over the money. Where other counties might use "love", "chuck", "darling" or somesuch, Lincolnshire prefers "ducks"! Why is this? In the past (and still today to a more limited extent) the south of the county had industries based on the plentiful ducks of the extensive wetlands - pillow-making, eiderdowns, etc. Perhaps that accounts for it!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On