Category: readers’ wildlife videos

Readers’ wildlife photos

April 3, 2026 • 8:15 am

Edmund Ault has sent us some photos of mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) ducklings, and you can never see too many of these.  (We should have some in Botany Pond by April 19.)  Edmund’s captions are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

These ducklings are on the River Witham, in the centre of Grantham, Lincolnshire, and are the first I have seen this year. I regularly feed the ducks on this stretch of river, but I wasn’t aware that there was a nest until I saw the brood this morning; I think they must have hatched first thing this morning (31st March). And what a brood it is: 16 ducklings!

Most of the brood are sheltering under their mother:

More:


The mother duck led her brood for a walk away from the river; when she got back to the river she happily jumped off a small concrete wall (about 3 feet high) and expected her brood to follow suit – which all of them did, although reluctantly:

The brood moved upstream and tried to scale a weir; although the weir is only about a foot high the rush of water was far too great for them and eventually they turned around and went back:

Readers’ wildlife photos

March 29, 2026 • 8:15 am

Abby Thompson of UC Davis has sent in some pictures of California tidepool organisms, as well as a video. Abby’s captions are indented and you can enlarge her photos by clicking on them.

Late January-early March tidepools, plus an octopus.

Bryozoans:

Lepas anatifera (pelagic gooseneck barnacle).   Usually found clinging to something drifting around in the open ocean (the “pelagic” part of their name), these were on a large log washed up on shore:

Intertidal zones, illustrated.    A well-placed vertical rock face, like this one, exhibits the idea of the different intertidal “zones”, each of which has its own specific collection of inhabitants.  You can see mussels and barnacles clustered at the top (in the “high intertidal”), exposed to the air as soon as the tide goes out even a little. There are smaller colonial anemones next, beneath them the orange and purple ochre stars, and below those, arriving at the low intertidal level, some giant green anemones.   If you peer into the water under the open giant green anemone, you’ll see a crab, probably a rock crab.   There’s some back and forth- there are a few giant green anemones pretty high up in this photo- but the general idea holds.

This reflects each animal’s differing tolerance for specific conditions- time out of the water as the tide goes out, harshness of wave actions, etc.      The nudibranchs (next few pictures) are usually in the very low intertidal:

Orienthella piunca (nudibranch):

Hermissenda opalescens (nudibranch):

Doto amyra (nudibranch).  Visible through the translucent skin on its back are lobules of the “ovotestis” (thanks inaturalist expert! ).   From google AI: “Ovotestes in nudibranchs are specialized, hermaphroditic reproductive glands that produce both male (sperm) and female (oocytes/eggs) gametes simultaneously”:

More eggs, this time from a snail in the genus Amphissa. I like the pointy egg casings, like wizards’ hats:

And here’s an adult of the genus- almost certainly Amphissa versicolor, but it’s an unusual color (they’re usually shades of orange or brown/tan):

In honor of Ghost the octopus, and also because I’ve finally figured out how to include videos, below is a clip from 2021 of an East Pacific red octopus (Octopus rubescens), cruising around the rocks (out of the water!) at low tide.  I’ve only seen one twice, probably because they’re too cleverly camouflaged (possibly just too clever) for me to spot.    This guy was about the size of a human hand, a miniature compared to the 50 pound Ghost.

Point Reyes peninsula at sunset:

Camera: Olympus TG-7.

Readers’ wildlife photos

March 13, 2026 • 8:15 am

Abby Thompson, a UC Davis mathematician, is back with more photos (and a video!) from the intertidal of northern California. Abby’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge her photos by clicking on them.

Jellyfish!

I thought I’d throw some jellyfish into the lull between the great winter tides and the great summer ones.

The reproductive cycles of the tidepool creatures are wildly varied, with behaviors ranging from maternal (see Epiactis prolifera from my last post), chancy (see mussels), through incessant (see nudibranchs).   But for sheer baroque complication, I vote for the jellyfish.    Many who stroll on a beach will see the quivering gelatinous masses of jellyfish stranded by the tide, and the less fortunate will have encountered their stinging tentacles while in the water.  This describes, a little, how they get there.

There are several jellyfish species common on the Northern California beaches; here are some of them:

Aurelia labiata (Greater Moon Jelly):

Chrysaora fuscescens (Pacific sea nettle):

Chrysaora colorata (purple-striped sea nettle) These are big, about a foot across:

Another Chrysaora colorata (handsome creatures):

Genus Aequorea (crystal jelly):

Polyorchis haplus:

Scrippsia pacifica (giant bell jelly):

The Chrysaoras and Aurelia labiata are in the class Scyphozoa; the rest are in the class Hydrozoa.

For all of these, males and females get together in the same vicinity, and release eggs and sperm (see “chancy” above), which form little “planulae”.    Then things get complicated.     Because (usually) the planulae settle down and attach themselves to something, and become polyps.  Like these tiny things:

Genus Sarsia:

Hydrocoryne bodegensis:

But how do they get from here (e.g. something like Sarsia) to there (e.g. something like Polyorchis haplus)?   Well they don’t, always, and sometimes they don’t get from there to here, either, but here’s an illustration of the process when it goes through a “typical” complete cycle:

And in fact if you look closely at that photo of H. bodegensis, you can see a little medusa just budding off, circled in the photo below:

Here’s a video of a set of newly-formed “baby jellyfish” (they look excited) which swam into my microscope view.    I didn’t know what I was seeing, so don’t have a photo of the polyp from which they likely emerged.   This means I have no idea of the genus (or even the class- if these are Scyphozoa then these are really ephyrae which will turn into medusae).

There seem to be many species for which the complete reproductive  process is not documented –  for example, if you search for the polyp stage of Polyorchis haplus, the answer is that we don’t know what it is, nor where it can be found.

 

A final oddity of this elaborate reproductive process is the existence of the so-called “immortal” jellyfish. (not found in the cold waters of Northern California).  If damaged at the medusa phase, this one can revert to its earlier (genetically identical) polyp phase- and so on ad infinitum, apparently.  As though, when things go wrong in your life, you could go back to your childhood and try again.

I’m grateful for help with IDs from experts on inaturalist and elsewhere.    All mistakes are mine.

Readers’ wildlife photos

March 12, 2026 • 8:15 am

And we have more photos. Today’s come from Jan Malik, documenting the birds of Barnegut Inlet in New Jersey. Jan’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

My previous batch from the Barnegat Inlet covered geese and ducks. It’s time for some of the other coastal birds now.

Immature Double-crested Cormorant (Nannopterum auritum). In contrast to diving ducks, these birds have no buoyancy problem and submerge easily.

Common Loon (Gavia immer). Judging by the slightly pinkish gape at the base of its bill and the fuzzy transition between black and white, this is an immature bird that stays on coastal bay waters before maturing and returning to quiet inland lakes to breed:

Another loon, this one with a mangled crustacean that I suspect is an Atlantic blue crab (Callinectes sapidus). I wonder if a diving loon preferentially picks a freshly molted crab the way we select ripe fruit:

Not a great loon picture, but we can see enough of the prey’s fins to identify the fish as an Oyster Toadfish (Opsanus tau), a species in which males provide parental care to eggs and young. The fish was big and bony, so the loon struggled a bit to swallow it. That fish would be a terrible choice for performing the Fish Slapping Dance. For the loon, it would be preferable to swallow its catch underwater, because at the surface it may be stolen by gulls, who know where a bird has dived and circle above waiting for it to reappear:

A couple of Savannah Sparrows were hopping on the rocks. I suspect that this pale bird with very little yellow in its brow is an Ipswich Sparrow, a subspecies (Passerculus sandwichensis princeps) that breeds on the sand spit of Sable Island off Nova Scotia:

Three species of shorebirds are common in winter at the Barnegat Inlet, all quite similar at first glance in size and plumage, but each occupying a different ecological niche. First, the Ruddy Turnstones (Arenaria interpres), here trying to sleep—probably using only one half of their brain to watch for predators, in unihemispheric slow-wave sleep. Their bills are short, stubby, and slightly upturned, adapted for—just as their name suggests—turning over beach debris to search for invertebrates hiding underneath:

Next, the Dunlins (Calidris alpina). They feed, roost, and migrate in large flocks. Unlike Turnstones, their bills are long, slender, and sensitive, used for probing tidal mudflats for worms and crustaceans:

Last, there are the Purple Sandpipers (Calidris maritima). Their bills are more “general purpose” than those of the other two species. Their covert feathers do show a purple sheen in the right light:

Purple Sandpipers and Dunlins are not very afraid of people on their wintering grounds; they may rest a few meters from a quiet observer. But the slightest hint of danger can trigger the whole flock to take flight in an instant—only to land nearby a moment later:

Purple Sandpipers are adapted to rocky coasts, where they feed on mussels exposed during low tides and on other invertebrates. The undersides of their feet must have a texture that allows them to walk sure‑footed on slime‑covered, slippery rocks:

 They have also evolved Silly Walks:

A distant Harbor Seal (Phoca vitulina), a frequent sight in the Inlet, always seems to look at the jetty with disappointment when it notices that this prime haul‑out spot is occupied by people:

As I was about to leave, the colors of the sunset behind a distant house caught my attention, so I took a picture, thinking little of it. Only back home—rather like the character in Antonioni’s Blowup—did I realize that the picture hides a predator the sleeping shorebirds must be on guard against. To be honest, I can’t be sure this was a flesh‑and‑blood predator and not one made of polystyrene, but the impression remains:

Reader’s wildlife videos

February 19, 2026 • 8:15 am

Praise Ceiling Cat, fleas be upon him: we have received a couple of submissions to tide us over. Today biologist and artist Lou Jost, who works at Ecuador’s Ecominga Foundation, has contributed some lovely hummingbird videos.  Lou’s captions are indented, and you know how to enlarge YouTube videos:

The Americas are currently the only continents that have hummingbirds, though the oldest hummingbird-like fossils are actually from Europe. In today’s world the centers of hummingbird diversity are the mountains of Costa Rica and Panama, and the northern Andes of Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru. Ecuador alone has 137 species of hummingbirds, compared to only 15-17 hummingbird species regularly found in the US. I recently visited an Ecuadorian birding lodge (Sachatamia) in northwest Ecuador, with many hummingbird feeders. The chaotic swarm of hummingbirds surrounding these feeders gives a good impression of this diversity. Here are some phone videos I took over the course of a few minutes.

Left to right: three Andean Emeralds, (Uranomitra franciae; white throats, light blue crown iridescence), the aptly named White-necked Jacobin (Florisuga mellivora), another Andean Emerald (head down) and a Rufous-tailed Hummingbird (Amazilia tzacatl, pink beak and iridescent green throat), also initially head down). Then more Rufous-tailed Hummingbirds and a brief Brown Violetear (Colibri delphinae):

Booted Raquet-tail (Ocreatus underwoodii) and Andean Emerald:

Purple-bibbed Whitetip (Urosticte benjamini, white spot behind eye and in tail, iridescent purple throat), Booted Raquet-tail, second Purple-bibbed White tip. Then something else obscured by feeder:

Female Empress Brilliant (Heliodoxa imperatrix)?, female Violet-crowned Woodnymph (Thalurania colombica, blue shoulders), displaced by male Green-crowned Woodnymph (iridescent green throat and purple body) in turn displaced by Empress Brilliant, photobombed at end by tiny beelike woodstar species:

Green-crowned Woodnymph front, Fawn-breasted Brilliant  (Heliodoxa rubinoides, fawn breast, pink chest/throat patch) at rear, displaced by male Empress Brilliant,  cameos by White-necked Jacobin, Andean Emerald, and others.

Velvet-purple Coronet (Boissonneaua jardini):

Brown Violetear, Empress Brilliant, a woodstar species, and Andean Emerald:

No readers’ wildlife today

February 4, 2026 • 8:15 am

Yes, the much-feared situation has occurred: I have run out of reader’ wildlife photos. Perhaps readers have lost interest in either sending them in or seeing them, but it’s a sad day when there are no animals and plants to look at and learn about. If you have photos (and good ones), please send them along.

In the meantime, I’ll shortly post a new Jesus and Mo, which will have to do you for today.

I guess I’ll take a short nap.

Reader’s wildlife video

January 31, 2026 • 8:15 am

Praise Ceiling Cat: reader Tara Tanaka, photographer and videographer extrodinaire, has returned with an awesome video featuring both cats and d*gs (well, a bobcat and coyotes). Tara filmed it from her living room in Florida (Tara and her husband own a large tract of wetland).  Tara’s Flickr page is here and her Vimeo page is here.

Tara’s Vimeo notes, which assure us that this is genuine:

“A Bobcat’s Encounter with Two Coyotes (Not AI)”

We had seen one or two coyotes around 9:30 the last two mornings. Hoping they would return for a third day I got my camera ready in the living room to try to record them. About 9:00 my husband said he saw one, so I made some final adjustments for the lighting and began to search for something moving in the distance. When I finally centered the subject in the viewfinder, I said “I think I’m looking at a bobcat.” Almost immediately the cat stood up and as I panned with it I was shocked when two coyotes ran into the frame, one on each side of the cat. Enjoy the interactions between the two species and between the very bonded pair of coyotes. I believe the female is pregnant.

After I finished filming I just sat in disbelief that I had had the opportunity to record something so unique – and from my living room! I feel like I could have gone to Yellowstone and spent a month in the field and not witnessed an encounter like this. Because of the dramatic temperature difference between the thawing ground and the sun heating the brown grass, the waves of heat shimmer intensified as the sun got higher and you can see them rippling across the screen. Despite the extreme conditions, I was thrilled that I was able to record the interaction so clearly from 1000′ away, and through a double-paned window.

We should have a pond full of water with waders arriving to nest right now, however due to a severe drought that started over a year ago, the entire swamp is dry. Without water to allow our large alligators to patrol under the nests and protect them from predators, I’m afraid that our hundreds of waders that nest here every year will not feel safe and will likely nest elsewhere.

Filmed with a Panasonic GH6 + Nikon 500mm f2.8 lens. Since I filmed it from inside the house, I used the audio from a video I shot from the yard last year.

The bobcat and coyotes don’t seem to mind each other, though the bobcat eventually climbs partway up a tree. Be sure to enlarge the video and put the sound up to hear the birds singing.