Beaver Dam Pond in Acadia National Park is a wonderful spot for photography. Going to black and white mode and using a red filter here we show off the birches and the feathery effect resulting. A red filter tends to darken greens and blues (water and evergreens) and lightens yellows and reds (October’s showy colors being absorbed by the filter). But the real magic of this scene was the post storm sun going in and out as it raced along the landscape, highlighting the luminescent whites on the bark. Got to acknowledge the beavers (though honestly, the lodge I think detracts from this image a bit) — this lodge has been existing on the pond for as long as I have been a witness — probably 20 years passing by on the Loupe Road.

Quoting from National Geographic beavers are quite amazing, including some things I didn’t know:

"Beavers are famously busy, and they turn their talents to reengineering the landscape as few other animals can. When sites are available, beavers burrow in the banks of rivers and lakes. But they also transform less suitable habitats by building dams. Felling and gnawing trees with their strong teeth and powerful jaws, they create massive log, branch, and mud structures to block streams and turn fields and forests into the large ponds that beavers love. Domelike beaver homes, called lodges, are also constructed of branches and mud. They are often strategically located in the middle of ponds and can only be reached by underwater entrances. These dwellings are home to extended families of monogamous parents, young kits, and the yearlings born the previous spring. Beavers are among the largest of rodents. They are herbivores and prefer to eat leaves, bark, twigs, roots, and aquatic plants. These large rodents move with an ungainly waddle on land but are graceful in the water, where they use their large, webbed rear feet like swimming fins, and their paddle-shaped tails like rudders. These attributes allow beavers to swim at speeds of up to five miles (eight kilometers) an hour. They can remain underwater for 15 minutes without surfacing, and have a set of transparent eyelids that function much like goggles. Their fur is naturally oily and waterproof."

March 14, 2018

Dam Story

The photos I like best have a story to tell, or at least they suggest one to an imaginative mind. This image has a narrative, part of which actually happened. And part, well, I’m not entirely certain about.

The Cross River Reservoir in northern Westchester is about 3 miles long and is just one of New York City’s suppliers. At the West end, there’s a dam, built in 1908, more than 170 feet tall holding back some 10 billion gallons of water. (History recounts how 50 buildings in the village of Katonah were relocated from here to their current spot by using horse drawn power and rolling logs.) Running along the top of the dam is a pathway almost a quarter mile long that reopened to the public 5 years ago after being closed in the wake of 9-11.

It’s one of my photographic haunts and on a cold, snowy monochromatic day during one of our recent Nor’easters I found myself there looking for a winter image to post.

I was literally freezing – visibility strongly curtailed by the squalls of sleet and snow. What was I doing out here all by myself in this weather? But glad I had purchased those wool gloves with no fingertips, enabling me to make fine adjustment settings on the camera and still having some feeling in my hands. I was feeling a little lightheaded.

So, you can imagine how startled I was when a muffled weak voice behind me asked: “Anything interesting?” Good thing my camera was firmly mounted on a tripod as I spun around to see my visitor.

My companion appeared to be very old with a grizzled gaunt face and a three day beard below a bemused smile. He was as colorless as the day except for the deepest clear blue eyes which dominated his face in sharp contrast to it, and the scene around us. I couldn’t imagine what this octogenarian was doing out here.

I stuttered out a few words about looking for shapes and lines and patterns in the scene, not trying to be rude but also not wanting an extended conversation. He nodded and asked a few more informed questions making it clear this was no idle chatter on his part, and that he was quite well versed in photographic expertise.

He offered that he had left his camera behind because it was too heavy and that his wooden tripod and leather bellows would not hold up well to this weather.

And with that he ambled off down the road in the opposite direction from which he’d come. As he was about to finally disappear into the snowy landscape I snapped this shot.