Near Miss

I've always liked the expression "near miss." It rolls off the tongue but it's just so wrong.

If you've nearly missed something, doesn't that mean you've hit it? Shouldn't the term be "near hit"?

Last week, DW and I took a short walk to get out of the house. With my appendicitis still raging, I had practically lived every day lying on my back in our bedroom. But after a couple of days of being on antibiotics, I was starting to feel the swelling in my lower abdomen lessening.

DW thought it would be a good idea to get on my feet and move around a bit. I had also recently acquired a gimble for recording steady video with my smartphone and I wanted to try it out.

We decided to drive to the Fletcher Wildlife Garden, just off Prince of Wales Drive, near the Arboretum. I wouldn't have to walk far and if I was feeling lousy, it wasn't such a long drive to get back home.

We noticed a photographer with a large telephoto lens sitting on a bench next to where a ravine drops off toward the Canadensis field. The ravine was filled with all sorts of beautiful flowers, but the photographer was birdwatching.

There's a feeder near the back of the wildlife centre, and we usually see all kinds of birds gather at that spot. But this photographer was hoping to catch some birds in the trees around the ravine.

"I've never thought of coming here to observe birds," said DW.

"Maybe we should come back another time when we have our cameras," I said.

Two days later, we were back. Our Merlin bird app, which listens for and identifies all sorts of birds, heard northern cardinals, warbling vireos, northern flickers, starlings, American redstarts, house finches, song sparrows, and chickadees, but we could only see rustling in the trees, and if we saw any birds, they were flying over the trees and moving too quickly for us to capture them with our cameras.

I managed to capture one goldfinch, perched on a flower stem, but that was it.

I did, however capture closeups of the flowers in the ravine, which I shared for Wordless Wednesday.

Feeling unsuccessful at the ravine, I headed over to the feeder at the back of the wildlife centre building, where I saw chickadees, grackles, red-winged blackbirds, finches, and woodpeckers taking their turns pecking at the seeds and suet.

I stood well back and zoomed in with my 70–300mm lens, hoping to capture some of the birds in flight, as they approached or left the feeder.

Just as a house finch left the feeder, a crackle came in for a landing. In a split second, it almost looked like the two birds were going to collide, but they didn't. All the while, my camera was firing at about four frames per second.

When I got home, I started culling bad shots from my camera: images that were out of focus or badly composed. Shots that missed birds entirely and had nothing in the frame. Subjects that were blurred or were turned so that I was observing them from behind.

And then I saw the shot where the finch and crackle almost collided.

Nikon D7200: f/8; 1/1500 sec; 210mm; ISO 1000

A near miss.

It's not the greatest shot: after all, I was shooting hand-held instead of steadying the camera on a tripod, and so it's not tack-sharp but it does convey the close call.

A tripod will be with me next time.

Happy Friday!

Beer O'Clock: Finch Pale Ale

A few weeks ago, I learned something new: goldfinches change their appearance during the winter months.

For the past few years, DW and I have enjoyed the myriad birds that have visited the feeder in our backyard. Chickadees, nuthatches, cardinals, and juncos. We have even been surprised to find a couple of Downey woodpeckers visit our feeder.

Finches are common sightings on our feeder. We get house finches, purple finches, and goldfinches. But until recently, I'd only see goldfinches during the summer, with their bright-yellow plumage distinct and easily spottable in the green and purple leaves of our chokecherry.

Because I never saw our yellow friends in the winter months, I assumed that they simply moved on when the weather got colder.

Not so.

A few weeks ago, I saw a round-bellied, yellow-throated bird at my feeder and reached for my binoculars. "New bird!" I called to DW, getting her attention. I passed her the binoculars and went for one of my D-SLRs, adding my 300mm lens to it.

Having never seen a bird that looked like it before, I sent the photo to my Twitter followers, to see if they could identify it for me. It looked finch-like but I added that it wasn't a goldfinch.

I was wrong.

And that's how I learned, from my bird-loving photographer friend, Karen, that goldfinches change their plumage and indeed do stay in our neighbourhood.

Another finch that I discovered, recently, is one that doesn't literally fly but had me soaring to new heights and ready to sing its praises. And while I thought this Finch Pale Ale, by Bicycle Craft Brewery, might be better suited to summer months, I found it quite enjoyable in the middle of winter.

Let's take a close look at it. (No binoculars necessary.)

Finch Pale Ale (4.5% ABV)
Bicycle Craft Brewery
Ottawa ON

Appearance: mostly clear (slightly unfiltered), rich gold with a sudsy-white head that settles to a tight lace.

Nose: floral aromas mixed with lychee and a touch of pineapple.

Palate: fresh mango and distinct pineapple, with a kiss of lime on the finish. This is a clean, tropical ale.

Overall impression: while I tend to reach for this type of ale in hotter weather, I found it hit the spot on a winter's afternoon. Finch hit all the right notes in aroma, mouth feel, and finish. It's flavourful yet light, and I would reach for one any time.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺🍺

Finch pale ale is available at the brewery or it can be ordered online. There's free shipping in Ottawa and can be delivered throughout Ontario for a modest $12 fee (a minimum order of $40 is required for these delivery rates).

I imagine that Finch Pale Ale is flying off the store shelves so capture some while you can.

Cheers!

Frenzy at the Feeder

In Flight