Eastern Phoebe: Kennebunk, Maine, USA, April 2026 — Down by the pond by the river yesterday, I was entertained by my first Eastern Phoebe of the year—always a joy to behold—here caught against the light in the thicket where the creek meets the river. It is about as plain a little bird as you might see—grey on grey—but it is full of life, with that constantly flicking tail and gleam of intent in its eye. I say against the light, but of course the phoebe has its own radiance, maybe not as bright as the sun, but it is phoebe radiance that attracts the eye, not the way the phoebe blocks the sun. Or so I say. Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 Contemporary at about 600mm equivalent field of view crop. Program with bird and wildlife modifications. Processed in Photomator and assembled in FrameMagic.

Northern Cardinal: Kennebunk, Maine, USA, April 2026 — It snowed pretty much all day yesterday—big fluffy flakes, or rather light clumps of flakes, floating slowly down. And, of course, the birds were hyperactive at the feeders. Many are nesting or courting. Some already have eggs. The falling snow brought them to the feeders to keep up with their need for nourishment in the season when they need it most. The neighborhood male Cardinal was on the deck about once an hour all day long. This is a bird we count ourselves blessed to see once a month most months. And of course, there is nothing more striking than a Cardinal in the snow (or few things at any rate). Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 Contemporary @ about 600mm equivalent field of view crop. Program with bird and wildlife modifications. Processed in Photomator.

Mourning Dove: Kennebunk, Maine, USA, April 2026 — The neighborhood flock of Mourning Doves only comes to our yard once or twice a week. But when they do, one or more often come up and sit on the deck under the mealworm feeder in hopes that the Bluebirds have dropped crumbs. Sometimes they have, but I often scatter a few mealworms for the birds that can’t use the feeders anyway. The squirrels generally get them before the birds, but I enjoy squirrels too, when they don’t actually get into the feeders. It is all a matter of balance in my mind. I feed the birds not because the birds need feeding, but because I enjoy the birds. And I am willing to feed the squirrels when they come, as long as they don’t take the feed away to add to their store…since they have no sense of moderation. They will take all they can get, whether they need it or not. Somewhere around our yard I am sure there are enough sunflower seeds to feed our local squirrel population for several hundred squirrel generations. Just the way squirrels are made. But this is really about Mourning Doves, is it not? Such handsome birds! Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 Contemporary at about 400mm equivalent field of view. Program mode with bird and wildlife modifications. Processed in Photomator and assembled in FrameMagic.

Pine Warbler: Kennebunk, Maine, USA, April 2026 — The Pine Warblers are among the first of the warbler clan to arrive in Maine in the spring—in fact, there are a few around all winter—we had one at the feeders on a warm day in December, and there are regular, if scattered, reports from around the state. This one appeared on the deck, after suet and mealworms, a few days ago and has been back several times since. I managed this “grab shot” just to celebrate. It never stays for long. Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 Contemporary at about 600mm equivalent field of view crop. Program with birds and wildlife modifications. Processed in Photomator.

Chipping Sparrow: Kennebunk, Maine, USA, April 2026 — a poem.

4/4

First Chipping Sparrow of spring

today at the feeders. Some of the

Song Sparrows never left, and

flocks are back by now, but the

Chippers will not be here in force

for another week or so. This one

is obviously a scout or a pioneer,

out ahead of the wave, sent out,

or out because that is where he

wants to be, not worried by his

loneliness. Maybe he is even

a pair…I have only seen the one

so far, and I would not be able

to tell if I am seeing one, or only

one at a time. Whatever. It is

good to see the Chippers back.

Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 Contemporary at about 600mm equivalent field of view crop. Program with birds and wildlife medications. Processed in Photomator.

Red-breasted Nuthatch: Kennebunk, Maine, USA, April 2026 — We have a pair (at least) of RBNs in the neighborhood, probably nesting in the little woodland with the stream across the street. They have been coming to our feeders more and more this winter into spring, and I hope to see them more often this summer than last, but even if I don’t see them, it is great to know they are around. Such a little bundle of joy. This one is a bit rainy day damp, but it did not seem to dampen its spirits, and that helps me on a rainy day—I don’t know about you. Birds mostly take the weather as it comes. I mean, what choice do they have? We have more choices, but the only one that makes sense is to emulate the birds and enjoy the weather as it happens. As I write this, the rains of yesterday have passed, and I am pleased. It gives me more incentive to get outside. But even on the rainiest days, the birds come to me. How great is that!? Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 at about 600mm equivalent field of view crop. Program with bird and wildlife modifications. Processed in Photomator.

Common Grackle: Kennebunk, Maine, USA, March 2026 — We have more Common Grackles passing through southern Maine this year (I sincerely hope they are passing through) than I have ever seen before. Flocks of many hundreds at a time. We have had 50 or more at the same time sitting in the top of two trees in the neighbor’s yard. If you know grackles, you know what that sounds like. I count it as a blessing that they either do not like or have not discovered our mealworm supply. This one was in the small wetland behind the houses along our street, congregating with the male Red-winged Blackbirds. They were not singing harmony—more counterpoint—but it was an interesting sound bath, if not a symphony. In this particular light, you see the iridescence in the body feathers quite clearly while the head remains dark. That too is a counterpoint. And that bright yellow eye is as amazing as ever. Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 at about 800mm equivalent field of view crop. Program with bird and wildlife modifications. Processed in Photomator.

Skunk Cabbage: Kennebunk, Maine, USA, March 2026 — Back in December, after our first snowfall, I was surprised to find Skunk Cabbage already up and poking through the thin snow cover in the little forest across the street from us along the tiny stream. Then came the heavy snows and intense cold of our winter this year, and I lost track of it. Going back to the forest here in late March, I find that there seem to be fewer Skunk Cabbage sprouts, and if the ones left are survivors, they have not grown a bit since I saw them last. Of course, it is possible that none of the early December crop survived and that what I am seeing now is a whole new crop. Having looked it up, I discover that Skunk Cabbage, unlike almost all plants, is “warm-blooded”. The Skunk Cabbage produces its own heat and has a body temperature that it maintains despite its surroundings. Getting buried in snow, it creates a melt zone around itself that acts as insulation in the same way as an igloo does, and it spends its winter safe in its own igloo, burning starch to stay warm. Isn’t that just too wonderful for words? I have always had a strange affinity for Skunk Cabbage, and now I know why. As one warm-bodied creature to another, I can identify. That and the amazing shapes and the intense color patterns. What is there not to like? (I guess I can forgive the smell. Some days I don’t smell so good myself.) Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 at about 600mm equivalent field of view crop. Aperture program with macro modifications. Processed in Photomator.

Red-winged Blackbird: Kennebunk, Maine, USA, March 2026 — on a dull day in late March, I took a walk down to the wetlands behind the first row of houses along my street and found it full of Red-winged Blackbirds. All males, but already doing a lot of competitive singing. I broke my own rule against using recordings (since, I justified, they are not even establishing territories yet) and played a blackbird song to get a few to pop up where I could see them. I thought maybe we could get a conversation going, but honestly, they know the difference—the recording is only, after all, the part of the song I can hear. Their song, the one they hear, has a lot of higher harmonics where the blackbird life lives in it, that I just do not hear and that no instrument can record or play back. We can appreciate Blackbirds, but only at a lower harmonic. This is as things are and should be. Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 at about 800mm equivalent field of view crop. Program with bird and wildlife modifications. Processed in Photomator and assembled in FrameMagic.

Rachel Carson NWR, Wells, Maine, March 2026 — Panoramas are hard to display and hard to view. Our focused zone of attention is only between 30 and 60 degrees. The rest we call peripheral vision. We see it, but we only pay enough attention to it to keep us from waking into walls or off cliffs or to avoid hanging branches and flying birds and debris. So when a panorama forces us to look at even a 100-degree field of view, it makes us just a bit uncomfortable. (Of course, our digital displays are not panorama-friendly either, which is why this one is in a 16×9 box. 🙂 I still like them, mostly for the exercise. It is good to expand our vision on occasion. It might make us more aware of walls and cliffs and flying things, but it might also help us to expand our zone of focused attention beyond the norm. That would be a good thing, I think. Who wants to live a narrow life? This is 5 overlaying frames at 24mm equivalent field of view, taken with the Sony a6700 and Sigma 16-300 contemporary, Landscape scene mode, processed in Photomator and stitched together in BimoStitch.