Category: photography

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 18, 2026 • 8:15 am

Today we have photos from Ephraim Heller continuing his series on a recent trip to Namibia. Ephraim’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

I continue my series on a May-June 2026 visit to Namibia. I’m organizing the posts by habitat, in the order of our visits, so that you get a sense of the ecosystems. Today’s post features the south-western black rhinoceros (Diceros bicornis bicornis) and southern white rhinos (Ceratotherium simum simum) of Etosha National Park and the adjacent, private Ongava Game Reserve. This is one of the most important rhino populations in Africa. In other African national parks I was happy to see one or two rhinos. On this trip I was surprised and pleased to view dozens of individuals.

[Note to readers: I have a lot of difficulty distinguishing the two species. I would appreciate corrections from experts if I have made an identification mistake.]

White rhino in morning light:

My previous posts documented Namibia’s desert coastline. Etosha National Park lies inland. The region is semi-arid with mean annual precipitation of 300-430 mm (12-17 in) and hot summers with typical temperatures around 40 °C (104°F).

Proclaimed as a reserve in 1907 by the German colonial administration and later reduced by the South Africa administration to just a quarter of its original size due to political and agricultural pressure, the park today encompasses over 22,000 km² (8,500 mi²). It is Namibia’s flagship conservation area. The park is dominated by the Etosha Pan, a ~5,000 km² (1,930 mi²) saline depression that is the remnant of an ancient inland lake.

White rhino at night. You can see the impressive scarring along its torso:

On the southern boundary of Etosha National Park lies Ongava Game Reserve, a private conservation area whose name means “rhino” in the Herero language. Starting in 1991 with the purchase of ~30,000 hectares of former cattle farmland, the Reserve’s ecology has slowly recovered. While the Park is closed to visitors at night, the Reserve caters to photographers with lodges and photo blinds overlooking illuminated waterholes.

White rhino baby nursing at the waterhole at night:

I wondered whether the two rhino species compete with each other. I learned that despite being closely related, they occupy distinct ecological niches. The mopane and mixed woodlands provide critical browse for black rhinos, and the grasslands support white rhinos.

This young male white rhino came too close to a baby. The baby’s mother inflicted this wound as a helpful reminder to respect her baby:

The southern white rhino is the larger of the two species, with adult bulls commonly exceeding 2,000 kg and occasionally approaching 3,500 kg. Despite the name, both African rhinos are grey and no one knows why are they called “white” and “black.” White rhinos are obligate grazers that crop grasses. Their large head is held low and supported by a pronounced hump at the neck.

White rhino with an impressive horn. Note the hump at the neck:

Socially they are more gregarious than black rhinos, often forming small groups of cows and calves, with territorial bulls maintaining more solitary ranges. Southern white rhinos recovered from a severe population bottleneck in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and are currently listed as Near Threatened. They disappeared from Etosha and were reintroduced in the 1990s from South Africa.

White rhino in the grass:

White rhino in dawn light. I love the ear tufts:

Black rhinos are smaller and more compact, typically weighing 800–1,400 kg. Allegedly, their most distinctive feature is the prehensile, hooked upper lip used for browsing leaves, twigs, and shoots from bushes and trees (I can’t distinguish the difference in their mouths). The head is held higher than in white rhinos, and the back shows a saddle-like dip. They are generally more solitary and can be more aggressive.

Rhinos on the way to the waterhole at dusk. I’m told that these are black rhinos, but those sure are big humps:

In the mid-20th century, remaining black rhinos from elsewhere in Namibia were relocated into Etosha. With improved protection and habitat, the population recovered strongly to over 500 black rhinos. Namibia has the south-western subspecies. Etosha is a global stronghold for this population. The species as a whole remains Critically Endangered following catastrophic declines in the 20th century.

Black rhino baby at the waterhole at night:

Poaching remains the primary threat to African rhinos. The news here is mixed. Etosha National Park has not fared well due to its large size and public management, with dozens of rhinos poached annually in recent years. On the other hand, and to their great credit, Ongava has had zero poaching incidents in recent history due to its private ownership, smaller size, and intensive security (dedicated, armed, anti-poaching teams conducting foot patrols; trained canine units; aerial support; and continuous high-tech monitoring). Tourism revenue helps fund security. Dehorning is used selectively in some high-risk areas as an additional deterrent.

This black rhino appears to be a veteran of many battles:

Readers’ wildlife photos and videos

July 17, 2026 • 8:15 am

Today we have photos and videos of the California intertidal taken by math professor Abby Thompson of UC Davis. Her captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

Just a few more great low tides for the summer. By August the kelp is so lush, it becomes harder to find interesting creatures, so I’m enjoying June and July.  These photos were taken during the full moon at the end of June.

Amblyosyllis anae (marine worm- it seems to be a summer of worms). This genus is relatively rare (or at least hard to find) here.   I had picked up a piece of sponge to look at under a microscope, and this guy crawled out, so I was lucky.  It was about ¼” long, and lively, as you can see in the video which follows.

Amblyosyllis anae video:

Megalorchestia corniculata (beach flea)- part of the beach clean-up crew.

Dirona picta (nudibranch):

Genus Eudendrium (hydroid):

Class Hydrozoa; this is the medusa (baby jellyfish) form of a hydroid, possibly of the Eudendrium in the previous picture (they were in the same dish). I don’t know what the yellow blob it’s attached to is; in the video following you can see it trying to detach itself:

Hydrozoa video:

Family Phoronidae– yet another type of marine worm, a “horseshoe worm”:

Genus Haliclona (sponge) – it takes an expert and/or a microscope to determine species for sponges. This type is very widespread, and a great color:

Ancula pacifica (tiny nudibranch):

Dendraster excentricus (Sand dollar) This is the “test” (internal skeleton) of a kind of flattened sea urchin. The live urchins stay below the low tide line, and they live in big clusters, sometimes propped up perpendicular to the sand.      Sort-of like the drawing of the oysters in Lewis Carroll’s “The Walrus and the Carpenter”, but underwater, and without the little shoes.

Mussel tracks- not tracks, of course, but for some reason mussels release droplets (presumably seawater?) when they’re exposed at low tide:

Anthopleura artemisia (moonglow anemone):

Moonset over Tomales Point. Moonset on June 30 was just before sunrise, making for some cool lighting:

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 12, 2026 • 8:15 am

We’re running out of wildlife contributions—I suppose we always are, but this is the last batch on hand. You know what to do if you have good photos.

Today we continue with Ephraim Heller’s photos from a recent trip to Namibia.  Ephraim’s captions are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them:

Today I continue my series on a May-June 2026 visit to Namibia. I’m organizing the posts by habitat, in the order of our visits, so that you get a sense of the ecosystems. Today’s post features the Skeleton Coast, yet another coastal desert region.

Stretching 500 km along the Atlantic, the Skeleton Coast is where the cold, nutrient-rich waters of the Benguela Current collide with the Namib Desert, producing dense coastal fogs most mornings. The indigenous San once called the region “the Land God Made in Anger.” Portuguese mariners knew it as the Gates of Hell.

The name “Skeleton Coast” has a dual origin. It first referred to the vast quantities of whale and seal bones that once littered the beaches, remnants of the 19th- and early-20th-century whaling industry. Over time the moniker also came to encompass the skeletal remains of the ships wrecked along one of the most dangerous coastlines in the world. There are about 300 recorded shipwrecks, with a total of >1,000 estimated over centuries. Persistent, dense fog reduces visibility to near zero for days at a time. Strong, unpredictable currents and heavy surf pound the beaches. Offshore rocks and poorly charted shoals lie just beneath the surface. Before modern navigation systems, the featureless desert coastline offered almost no landmarks, and any shipwrecked sailor who managed to reach shore faced a waterless, nearly lifeless desert.

One of the most dramatic wrecks occurred in late November 1942 and the story was told in the book “Skeleton Coast” (John Marsh, 1944). The British refrigerated cargo ship MV Dunedin Star, carrying passengers, crew, and war supplies, struck a submerged obstacle. The master beached the vessel about 550 yards offshore. A motor lifeboat managed to ferry 63 of the 106 passengers and crew to the desolate beach before it was disabled by the heavy surf, leaving the remaining 43 people stranded on the breaking-up ship and those ashore with almost no supplies. What followed was a >2 month rescue operation that itself was plagued by bad luck and the difficult conditions of the Skeleton Coast. Here’s a photo of the Dunedin Star (courtesy of bluestarline.org):

Within hours of the distress signal reaching Walvis Bay, the South African tug Sir Charles Elliot and the minesweeper HMSAS Nerine set out, soon joined by the cargo ships Temeraire and Manchester Division. A land convoy of trucks departed from Windhoek and crossed the roadless desert to reach the survivors on the beach.

South African Air Force Lockheed Ventura aircraft flew supply drops, many of which were swept away by the wind and currents. One aircraft landed on what appeared to be firm ground only to sink into a salt pan, becoming stranded. Several weeks later, a recovery party returned for the plane. After on-site repairs and several days of digging the plane free, they managed to get it airborne again on January 29, 1943. The aircraft flew for about 43 minutes before one of the engines failed and it crashed into the sea. The crew survived the ditching, swam ashore, and were rescued by the returning land convoy a couple of days later.

While all of the Dunedin Star passengers and crew survived and returned to port by late December, 1942, some of the rescuers did not return until early February, 1943. However, the tug Sir Charles Elliot grounded near Rocky Point while returning, with two crew members losing their lives.

Enough with the history lesson. Now for the animals:

Cape fur seals (Arctocephalus pusillus pusillus) are the most conspicuous animals on the coast, with breeding colonies reaching more than 100,000–200,000 individuals during the November–December peak. The colony that I saw numbered about 1,000:

Males establish and vigorously defend harems of up to ~50 females, fasting for weeks while defending territory:

We saw (and smelled) many pup carcasses. High pup mortality from stampeding, predation, and starvation is the norm. The carcasses are the primary food for scavenging jackals and hyenas:

Black-backed jackals (Lupulella mesomelas) are one of the most basal extant wolf-like canids, with a fossil record extending back 2-3 million years and relatively little morphological change since the Pleistocene. On the Skeleton Coast their diet is opportunistic: they take seal pups and afterbirth, scavenge carcasses, and hunt birds and small mammals. Their kidneys are adapted to water scarcity, allowing them to thrive where freestanding water is absent:

Brown hyenas (Parahyaena brunnea) are the rarest of the living hyenas (global population 4,000–10,000) and is listed as Near Threatened. Sightings are rare, as they are shy and nocturnal. I was very lucky:

Along the Skeleton Coast they are beachcombers, ranging long distances at night to feed on seal carcasses, abandoned pups, and whatever jackals or other predators leave behind. Their jaws and dentition crack bones that many other carnivores cannot process. They live in small, stable clans (typically 4–6 related individuals) but forage largely alone. All clan members help provision cubs at communal dens:

Just inland from the beach begin the sand dunes. In this apparently sterile environment, I found a tractrac chat (Emarginata tractrac):

I normally don’t post lodge photos, but the lodge at which I stayed was remarkable both for its architecture and isolation. At over 120 km to the nearest village and over 400 km to the nearest paved road, I believe that it may be the most remote place I have slept. The buildings have a nautical motif:

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 11, 2026 • 8:15 am

Please send in good wildlife photos if you got ’em. The bad news is that I’ve run out of contributions. The good news is that Scott Ritchie of Cairns, Oz, gave me permission to steal photos from his Facebook page, and he’s a superb photographer.  This one shows a visit to an area that has black swans. Scott’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

I went to Melbourne during the middle of January to visit friends. Of course, birds are my feathered friends. This report cover a visit to the WTP, Western Treatment Plant, at Werribee, Victoria. These names pass mythically from the lips of Australian birders. I’ve been there before and really enjoyed it, but this past trip was wild. WTP is a series of quite large, secondary sewage treatment ponds, and lagoons. These abut along the great Southern Ocean and you get this wonderful interaction of freshwater and saltwater wetlands and associated birds. These are used, particularly in our summer, as overwintering sites for migratory shorebirds. But there’s a lot of resident waterfowl and waders there too. The WTP is so valued that you have to have a key to the gate for access to the site. Fortunately, my friend David was a key-carrying twitcher.

The weather was crazy, with 45 KPH winds. One of the first things I discovered was that strong winds can really mess with a telephone lens. My lens was being buffeted by the gusty, easterly winds to the point where I had to remove the lens hood to stabilise the camera. But a few interesting things happen because of the wind. It was a great opportunity for BIF shots; birds in flight. Birds generally take-off and land into the wind, and because it was so strong, they were moving quite slowly. So I got nice shots of normally very fast birds such as terns and sandpipers as they came into land. Attached are some fun pics.

The next day I did a short walk through Banyule Flats Reserve, an urban Melbourne wetland. The highlight was to see the oh so cute Owlet Nightjar, as well as a family of Tawny Frogmouths. Shout out to Lyn Easton for leading the tour

A Black Swan (Cygnus atratus) Beach. The high winds packed the east facing beach with seagrass. And the Black Swans made for the buffet:

A beach of Blacks Swans, necks writhing like snakes.

Amazing!:

“Ahh, now that feels good.” An Australian Spotted Crake (Porzana fluminea) enjoys the breeze up its bum:

“Bugger off!” But is not happy with the hordes of shore flies:

An immature Black-shouldered Kite (Elanus axillaris) gives us the eye:

Whiskered Terns (Chlidonias hybrida) cruised flew slowly against the wind, providing good views for the camera:

. . . and another:

A Black Kite (Milvus migrans) swings down to pick up a dead little bird that was hit by a car:

A large flock of Australian shelducks (Tadorna tadornoides) fly into the WTP. It was great to see large numbers of waterfowl darken the skies:

I had fun shooting, small short birds they say, came into land against the wind at adjacent pool. This is a Red-necked Stint (Calidris ruficollis):

And here comes a Sharp-tailed Sandpiper (Calidris acuminata):

A family of Tawny Frogmouths (Podargus strigoides) greet the day at Banyule Flats Reserve:

But he poses stoically, “You can’t see me!”  Frogmouths sit still, imitating dead branches and stumps:

A bit of a loose feather gives him away:

An Owlet Nightjar (Aegotheles sp.) peeks out of his hole hollow. He stared at all the photographers down below. We must’ve started him because then he just disappeared. But we waited and waited:

“Come on, take your pictures!” He suddenly popped up, posing nicely:

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 8, 2026 • 8:15 am

Ecologist Susan Harrison is back with some bird photos from California featuring rookeries (there are some lovely shots of chicks and juveniles).  Susan’s notes and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge her photos by clicking on them.

Rookery Scenes

Recently I visited two local rookeries where colonies of large wading birds breed in early- to midsummer.   It was fun to watch the nest building, egg tending, and varied interactions among adults and young birds of mixed ages.   In some cases (like the Cattle Egrets), it appeared that young birds were competing with each other to be at the head of the feeding line.

Western Cattle Egrets (Ardea ibis), Black-crowned Night Herons (Nycticorax nycticorax), and Snowy Egrets (Egretta thula) were breeding at Sacramento’s North Natomas Regional Park.

White-faced Ibis (Plegadis chihi) were rearing their young at the Woodland-Davis water treatment ponds, which in spite of their unprepossessing title, are our county’s top eBird hotspot and the subject of much ecological enhancement for migratory birds and other wildlife.

Cattle Egrets:

White-faced Ibis:

Black-crowned Night Herons:

Snowy Egrets:

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 3, 2026 • 8:15 am

Today’s batch of photos comes from Kevin Krebs, who’s been busy banding birds in south-central British Columbia. Kevin’s captions and IDs are indented, and, as always, you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

Since 2018, the Vancouver Avian Research Centre (VARC) has been involved in Bluebird Box Monitoring around the city of Merritt in south-central British Columbia.

Like almost all birds, bluebird numbers have been declining, and we’ve recruited many volunteers to maintain and monitor over 400 nest boxes.

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to join some compatriots checking nest boxes and banding bluebird nestlings.

Mountain Bluebird (Sialia currucoides)

Mountain Bluebirds (Sialia currucoides) are found throughout Western and Central North America. The males are a brilliant cerulean blue that is almost impossible to capture in a photograph. Imagine a small piece of the most vibrant blue sky you’ve ever seen growing wings and flying free.

They’re medium-distance migrants, with some breeding into Alaska, and wintering down into Northern Mexico. They are cavity nesters and rely heavily on old woodpecker holes, often facing significant competition. North American Breeding Bird Survey (BBS) data from 1970–2014 shows an estimated overall population decline of 21%. Recent research suggests a more complex picture, with some populations declining, some stable, and some increasing.

Next box and Mountain Bluebird eggs

On the left, an example of our nest boxes. Most are located on fenceposts, while a handful are placed on trees and stumps.

On the right, an active Mountain Bluebird nest with four eggs. Their nests are made of dried grasses beautifully woven into a cup, with a few feathers often mixed in. Their eggs are pale blue and slightly glossy.

Tree Swallow (Tachycineta bicolor) eggs and young nestlings

In addition to Mountain Bluebirds (and rarely Western Bluebirds (Sialia mexicana)), these nest boxes are frequently used by Tree Swallows (Tachycineta bicolor).

Somewhat similar to bluebird nests, Tree Swallow nests feature significantly more feathers in their construction. On the left is a nest with eight eggs — matte white and much smaller than the bluebird eggs (my fingers give a sense of scale).

On the right: a nest with six very young Tree Swallow nestlings.

Tree Swallow nestlings

Another Tree Swallow nest with at least six older nestlings. Their eyes have yet to open, so they’re probably only a few days older than those pictured above. The comically large and bright mouths are selected to draw as much attention from their parents as possible, ensuring they get fed.

Adult Tree Swallow

An adult male Tree Swallow (Tachycineta bicolor) who started out as one of those little eggs.

Northern House Wren (Troglodytes aedon)

Another bird that occasionally uses these nest boxes is the Northern House Wren (Troglodytes aedon). There’s no mistaking their nests as they have a profoundly different style of nest-building, packing nearly the entire box with dozens of twigs.

On the right, a peek into the nest revealing the feather-lined cup with seven mottled eggs.

Mountain Bluebird nestlings

This is what we were looking for: Mountain Bluebird nestlings. These birds are 9-10 days old, making them old enough to band. We can’t band them when they’re much younger as they store fat in their legs, making them too large for the metal bands we use.

Banded Mountain Bluebird nestlings

Two Mountain Bluebird nestlings in the hand.

Before anyone panics: yes, I am trained to do this and am operating under a permit! I don’t think I need to tell any of you not to try this yourself.

The bird on the left is around 12 days old, while the one on the right is approximately 15 days old — probably within a few days of leaving the nest.

Note that we use federally numbered bands, anodized with a different colour for each year. This allows us to identify adult birds to the year they were banded, even if we can’t get the band number.

Banding in progress

A photo of me in the process of banding some nestlings. The bags on my lap contain birds to be banded and that have been banded. Once they’re all completed, we carefully and quietly place them back in the nest box.

Not pictured is when I sat directly on top of an ant nest while getting ready to band…

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 2, 2026 • 8:30 am

Send in your photos if you got ’em, please!

Today’s photos continue the series taken by reader Ephraim Heller in Namibia. His captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

Today I continue my series on a May-June 2026 visit to Namibia. I’m organizing the posts by habitat, in the order of our visits, so that you get a sense of the ecosystems. Today’s post features Damaraland, a 48,000 km² region in the northwest of the country.

Damaraland is not a formal administrative region, but a geographic and cultural designation. It is a jumble of granite kopjes, basalt plateaus, flat-topped mountains, broad gravel plains, and eroded canyon systems. Like much of Namibia, it is desert. Here is an aerial view, taken from the window of a small airplane:

Life is sparse here. A handful of ephemeral rivers cross Damaraland, cutting westward from the interior highlands to the Skeleton Coast along the Atlantic Ocean. These rivers flow above ground for only a few days per year following significant inland rainfall, but each bed sits atop an alluvial aquifer that retains water from flood events for months to years. This subsurface water sustains a few trees, shrubs, and animals along the riverbeds. Here’s another aerial view showing the path of an ephemeral river:

By far the coolest critter I found was the longleg armoured corncricket (Acanthoplus longipes), which has superpowers. It is a large, flightless katydid brandishing big, spiny legs and a heavily armored (American spelling) pronotum. When attacked, individuals autohaemorrhage, shooting a jet of toxic hemolymph from the leg joints toward attackers. I wish I had a superpower like that:

Naturally, any creature with such a magnificent superpower fluoresces under UV light:

Frankly, the rest of this post is anticlimactic. What could possibly beat a longleg armoured corncricket? Not a pretty brush jewel beetle (Julodis humeralis):

A Namib rock agama (Agama planiceps) doesn’t beat a longleg armoured corncricket, not even when it is chowing down on a bug:

One night I went on a walk to see what would fluoresce under my UV light. I found this gecko. Sure, fluorescence is cool and I wish I could do it, but does this gecko autohaemorrhage? No, it does not. The folks at iNaturalist couldn’t identify it – apparently one needs the visible spectrum to make a positive ID:

This is tentatively identified as an orange lesser-thicktail scorpion (Uroplectes planimanus), another critter with the minor UV-fluorescence superpower. Interestingly, researchers do not know why scorpions evolved fluorescence.

Now for the birds. Sadly, they have no superpowers at all. Our lodge had a water feature that was the only surface water for miles around. I spent hours watching the birds bathe and drink.

A violet-backed starling (Cinnyricinclus leucogaster). The color is produced not by pigment but by thin-film interference: stacks of hollow melanosomes in the feather barbules refract light at specific wavelengths. The male can modulate its apparent coloration through posture:

A black-fronted bulbul (Pycnonotus nigricans):

A Namaqua dove (Oena capensis):

A red-headed finch (Amadina erythrocephala):

The southern masked weaver (Ploceus velatus). Egg color varies among females, allegedly as a defense against brood parasitism by the Diederik cuckoo. Because the cuckoo cannot know egg color before entering the nest, color polymorphism in the weaver population raises the probability of parasite detection and egg ejection. Not a superpower, but cool nonetheless. I just like the bokeh in this photo:

Finally, the requisite Namibian desert night sky photos: