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ImageWildlife is unpredictable. Wildlife photography is too. In one hand, there is a lot of planning involved: getting to know your subject, the food it likes, the time of day is more active, what habitats it prefers and so on. There is also skills involved: what exposure to use, how to camouflage correctly but above all, wildlife photography is about persistance and obsessive pursuit; the more you are out there shooting the more chances you have to get that great shot. But at the end of the day, you never know exactly what will happen or where the animal is going to be.

Last week while shooting birds in Colorado at -22 Fahrenheit I had a lucky break. I had just spotted a female Downy Woodpecker on a tree and I hid my self the best I could to give it space. The bird flew into a near branch where the light was much better (first lucky break) and I started shooting away. Maybe 20 seconds later the bird flew away never to be seen again.

When the session finished and I was back in the warmth of the cary, I reviewed the images on my camera screen and noticed that a male Pine Grosbeak had flown by and miraculously  had enter the frame into my photo, in the perfect place to help my composition. I can only take a third of the credit for this shot. The other 2 thirds are equally deserved by two birds that, in the coldest day I have ever experienced, decided to collaborate.

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When I think of the desert, I immediately think of beige sands and dunes, camels and palm trees.

Maybe too much cartoons got to me, but I find my self with a pretty precise image of what a desert should be. So when my mom and I first walked into White Sands National Monument, it was like a cultural warp zone had swallowed us without notice.

We had driven almost 4 hours from Socorro, New Mexico to get to White Sands and we were tired and thirsty. But two immediate surprises shocked us from the beginning:

1. The sand was soft and white as snow.

2. The sand was cold as snow.

So, was it snow? No, it was more like salt just out of the freezer. The light reflected beautiful purple and pink hues and the mountains surrounded a marvellous set of dunes. The space was big and wide. The aire was crisp. But the silence was the most breathtaking element that day, at least for a few hours. Until a military jet flew right above us and let some kind of missile blow up just over our heads. It was scary. Very scary. After 10 minutes silence was back along with the solitude of two people and many footprints.

The sun was falling fast. The sky was purple. The dunes were even more mysterious and strange sounds became present. It was very cold and the pre-conceived notion of what a desert was supposed to be was broken and tarnished forever. Beyond the aesthetically experience, White Sands National Monument provided and deeply soulful experience. A mix of peace, fear, solitude and wonder had taken place in one sensation. It was already night it we were ready to drive back, but not without experiencing our final drama of the day when we could not find our way back to the car. We did after an hour or so and we drove back in silence as the full moon finally rose over the big mountains.

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As you may already know, Hispaniola is an island shared by Haiti and the Dominican Republic. The eastern half, the DR, is not only my home but also for obvious reasons my primary birding and photography destination. When I started with this obsession for birds, I wanted to read and learn as much as I could as fast as I could. And as anybody who an interest in any of our 30+ endemics or hundreds of resident and migrating species, the best place to start is the Field Guide to Birds of la Hispaniola. This is how I began.

The book is a very complete account of all birds observed on the island. It will give you a quick and broad scope of all the possibilities of species and habitats available as well as great illustrations on almost all of them. Of course the most bright and colourful species are the ones everyone, including myself, wants to start with: Hispaniolan Trogon, Broad-billed Tody, Antillean Bullfinch and so on. You never have good-enough photos of this species…  But after a while, when they become not-so-hard to find, the thirst of new discovery comes back. So every once in a while I go back to the field guide and I try to choose a species I have not seen yet. Like the case of the Northern Pottoo. Which I have not yet observed even after many night drives around the island and failed expeditions to sites that were supposed to be “sure-things”.

That saturday I went out with Miguel Landestoy, who along with Nicolás Corona, whom I haven’t met yet, I consider the two top birders on the island. Miguel and I headed north-east in search of one of the few birds he hadn’t seen yet and I hadn’t even heard of.  That sole fact should tell you a bit of how rare this bird is in Hispaniola. We started at marshes and swamps in Monteplata with no luck. We drove around dirt roads in the area and stopped at any little spot of grass in the wetlands nearby in hope of spotting the Spotted Rail (Pardirallus maculatus). This bird was discovered in Hispaniola in 1978 and to the best of my knowledge it has only been spotted a few times after that and even though I haven’t seen any photographs I know the great dominican photographer Pedro Genaro was able to take some good shots few years ago. I am unaware of any more photos taken in Hispaniola, but if they exist, they are only a few.

We were about to call it a day when we stopped at one final lagoon and went in knee-deep into the water chasing after some Purple Gallinules when a quick small shadow flew by after making a quirky gutural sound. And there it was, a fleeting glimpse of the elusive Spotted Rail. That was the last we saw of it. But I was hooked on the challenge and determined to get the shot.

A week later I went back. Prepared with proper equipment I arrived before dark and went into the water. I made sure my camouflage was good enough and waited silently. There was a Belted Kingfisher perched just over my head and I had to pull all my strength not to alter the stillness of the water by photographing it. After all, is one of my favourite birds. There were plenty Purple Gallinules around as well as a couple of Limpkins. But patience paid off and this elusive bird came out of the tall grasses and walked right by me as it snacked on apple snail. It would suddenly freeze and look around, feeling that something was strange that morning but without being able to pinpoint exactly what. I stayed in the water for nearly four hours and was able to get some decent shots of the least observed and photographed bird on the Hispaniola and some pretty cool shots of the Purple Gallinules,  the birds that unknowingly helped us find a true feathered treasure.

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_MGL8790I try to do at least 3 photography trips a year. Between getting permissions from the wife, the job and the cashflow, 3 trips is all I can do in one calendar year, but also 3 are enough to satisfy my minimum requirements of adventure in my everyday corporate life.  So when an opening presented it self for november 2012, I had to figure out where was the best spot to travel taking in consideration distance, budget and of course, dates available.

I asked around, I googled options, I researched everywhere and all quests ended up almost unanimously in one destination. It just so happens that november is not the best month to go photographing birds in North America, unless you are visiting Bosque del Apache Wildlife Refuge in New Mexico.  So when I saw that a full moon was also on the menu, the decisions was made pretty quickly

Bosque del Apache is about 1hr south of Albuquerque and only 8 miles aways from Socorro, NM. So after flying SDQ-MIA-DFW-ABQ I was eager to get to the refuge the next morning. I had invited my mother, a true adventurer and the culprit of my own insatiable desire to explore, to come along. My mother is not a photographer, but she is an avid observer of nature in all its forms. We woke up at 4am and by 4:45am we were already in front of 5K+ Sandhill Cranes in the pools just outside the refuge main entrance.

There is not much one can say about Bosque further than what photographs can, but let me just say that this is Disneyland for wildlife photographers. Just try to imagine over 50K snow geese, 10K sandhill cranes and several other species of birds and mammals. Just try to imagine photographing the most spectacular sunrises and sunsets mixed with blast-offs of thousands and thousands of geese. Just try to imagine getting there everyday at 5am and leaving at 7pm for 6 days straight, always with a big smile on your face.

Before arriving I feared that all photos taken at Bosque by the hundreds if not thousands of professional photographers that show up every migration season, looked exactly the same. But actually, this is quite impossible. I was there with probably 50 other photographers and I am pretty happy with my photos, and after looking around in the web, I think they are pretty genuine.

There is something quite strange about Bosque del Apache. For photographers and I think is that feeling that something is too good to be true… and actually it is. The fact that a place full of opportunities to make great memorable shots exist, is just outstanding. Is like going to graduate school and working at your dream job all at the same time.

I took 14K shots in 5 full days and I can’t wait to go back and try different things. This is a place I want to repeat and someday take my kids, hopefully each one of them will be holding a camera as well.

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_MGL9125 _MGL8918 _MGL8017 _MGL6673 _MGL6341_MGL6991 _MGL9540 _MGL9785To see more photos of my Adventures in New Mexico just click here.

CF6A1902Being from the Caribbean sounds a lot cooler than it is. I mean, of course we have great sandy beaches and the everlasting sun, yes we do have colourful flowers and exotic fruits and yes, as cliché as it may sound, we have a tendency of smiling a lot and worrying very little. But something I really crave, besides political stability that is, is having seasons. Yes seasons! You know, spring, summer, fall and winter; the cherry blossoms of spring, the beautiful foliage of fall and the white snowy vail of winter. Here in the Dominican Republic, we only have two seasons; summer and rain. So when my wife proposed we take a vacation Autumn was definitely it!

We chose, almost randomly, West Virginia and we chose very well. Not only the place was beautiful but the timing was also perfect. It was the peak of fall foliage and the leaves full of color. We hiked every morning and the birding was also wonderful, adding a few lifer’s to my list.

Of course I packed my camera, but because this was a couples trip, I did not dare to pack the big guns. You know, the 500mm4, tripod and else. But equipped with my Canon 5D mk III and the new 70-200mm f/2.8 II I was able to enjoy my self and couples time at the same time.

I really wish we had seasons in the Caribbean other than rain. Something to look forward to every 3 or 4 months. I would love to have constant change in my life and my surroundings. Every time I travel in fall or winter I secretly dream that climate change will bring winter to the islands of the Caribbean.

 

More photos can be seen at www.flickr.com/davalette

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So finally last june, after thinking about it, doubting and pondering, I decided to go ahead with the solo show of my photography work at District & Co.. I co-founded this gallery in 2005 but haven’t been involved with them since 2006, even though relationships with Manuel and Eduardo could not be better. With the help of a few friends I chose 41 of my best photos and finally ended hanging only 20 of them.

I decided to call the exhibition “Wildscapes: from the Arctic to the Caribbean” with photos taken in Finland, Alaska, Yellowstone and Dominican Republic. I was definitely busy in 2011-12. The good thing about trying to choose your best work is that it provides a broader sense of what you really do. You style or personality really comes through in your body of work.

This is my 5th solo show but my 1st with photography. The other 4 where entirely contemporary art, mostly painting, so I did not know what to expect or really how to approach the curatorial work. It really helped out to have exhibition experience. The other 4 solo shows and 15+ group shows in Havana, New York, Cairo and Santo Domingo had prepared me to punt the work out there and detach from it. Some of the pictures you have already seen in this blog, but for those of you who could not be there with me I am adding a few pics from the guided tour, which turned out to be the coolest thing about the show. Wildlife photos all have a great story behind them, and telling it, adds to the piece-observant relationship. But I guess, thats what I do around here, so you already know that.

My oldest daughter Nicole, posing in front of her two favourite photos.


Looking up has always been part of the human spirit. It gives us a soulful sense of scale that somehow achieves to provide a healthy dose of humility. Specially at night, when the body winds down, the soul becomes a bit more sensitive and the cosmos shows itself, we can help to ask transcendental questions while looking up. The night skies are hard to grasp and easy to fall in love with.

Since I was little I was always marvelled at night skies. I remembered the superstition of my nana: “if you try to count the stars you will certainly get a wart”. I always tried anyways, never got a wart!

I always tried to imagine the first humans admiring the stars, trying to figure things out, trying to make sense of such a beautiful spectacle. I got a chance to see the Northern Lights last march and there is really no way to describe the way something inside me moved, drifted…

My mother was always a cosmos fanatic. Sometimes we would go to the roof and look through a cheap telescope my dad had bought for us and spend hours looking at the moon, mapping constellations and making up our own.

Last night I drove 2 hours west to Azua and yet again failed miserably in my quest to photograph the Northern Potoo (Nyctibius jamaicensis). So I looked up and after 4 hours of being out there decided to make the best of the situation. I replaced my 500mm lens for a 18-35mm f/2.8 and decided to have some fun. These are some of the shots that saved the night. But I promise I will go back out there and eventually find the mysterious bird and I will come right back here to this desk in front of this computer and write: “I have conquered my nemesis”.

Greater Antillean Bullfinch (Loxigilla violacea)

No matter where I travel in the world, there is always one place that will never cease to amaze me: La Sierra de Bahoruco. It is a place filled with magic and resilience. La Sierra manages to stay alive and beautiful despite all the harm that has been caused by humans. Of course it wont be like this forever, if you keep pounding on her she will eventually die. But every time I set foot I always come home with new hope and a profound sense of humility and awe. The vegetation varies a lot: from dry forest to transition to broad-leaf rainforest to pine forest all in minutes from one another. Temperature can also be as wide and varied as vegetation, so this mixture of ecosystems gives place to a melting pot of species of all kinds; plants, birds, amphibians, reptiles and birds.. but also mammals. The only two endemic mammals, the Hispaniolan Solenodont (Solenodon paradoxus) and the Hispaniolan Jutia (Plagiodontia aedium) are found here, and mostly only here.

Most Hispaniolan endemic birds can be found here but also other great species such as the Northern Potoo (Nyctibius jamaicensis), Greater-Antillean Bullfinch (Lixigilla violacea) and Antillean Euphonia (euphonia musica). Also the entire populate in the Bicknell’s Thrush (Catharus bicknelli) migrates to this place for winter, as well as our endemic La Selle Thrush (Turdus swalesi) which is pretty much only found here. You can also find the most beautiful song in the bird kingdom in these forest: that of the Rufous-throated Solitaire (Myadestes genibarbis). This gorgeous whistle fills the forest just before dawn and really creates a surreal atmosphere.

I crave this place. When I am locked in my office, thinking of budgets and strategic plans and cash flow, La Sierra always provides a safe haven for me to look forward too and pull trough. Evey time I go the experience is different. Every time I go a want more. I have been around in the world, but still La Sierra de Bahoruco always manages, with her accustomed resilience, to come back and retain her title as my favourite nature spot in the world, and that my friends, it’s a tough title to keep.

Rufous-throated Solitaire (Myadestes genibarbis)

Antillean Euphonia (Euphonia musica)

 

As in most weekends, I woke up early an headed out-of-town. The sun was not yet out and the morning was clear and purple. It felt good to be out on the road listening to Jack Johnson. I drove west towards Baní, where Salinas and its marvellous sand dune are located, but instead turned via Los Corbanitos; a paradisiac deserted beach where sometimes flamingoes visit. The mangroves look healthy and the water is clean, the pelicans dive violently into the water and once in a while you can see an iguana near by.

That morning I had one target: The Clapper Rail (Rallus longirostris). I had tried with no success before but this time I had refined my technique. The sun was just coming out and the purplish morning had turned pink and orange. It was crisp and cool and I felt things were going my way. I picked a spot in front of the mangroves, laid in the moist sand and covered my self with leaves and branches. Then I waited.. I just waited and waited for over 45 minutes. I could hear the waves crashing on the shore, I could hear the weavers making noise in the bushes behind me.. I saw a kestrel fly by me, I saw pelicans with a mouthful of fish and I even saw vervain hummingbirds perch on the mangrove, but still I waited.

The suddenly I was a long orange beak slowly coming out of the mangroves, slowly and cautiously the bird walk out, he took two slow steps and then rushed again to the mangroves. It did the same a few times and the finally, when it thought it was safe, it calmed down and walked into the open. But to my surprise a second rail walked just behind him. I also calmed my self, trying not to make any noise and I took the first shot, the second and so on. I was very pleased with the photos from that morning: the light was good, the bird had collaborated and patience had once again paid off. 

 

When I first started in bird photography I heard for the first time the name “Arthur Morris” from a good friend and the one who first pointed me in the right direction. He almost whispered when letting that name out of his mouth. – Arthur Morris started it all – he sentenced. Naturally I went home and researched the guy, bought his books, looked at his photos. And yes the guy is good, and yes, he has a lot of merit. But really, his photos did not move me one bit. They are great photos, don’t get me wrong, but they are lacking something, at least in my taste.

Next time I ran into my friend we spoke again about Arthur Morris and he was shocked, almost offended when I said I respected his work but it really didn’t rock my boat. We talked a bit more and he laid down some rules of bird photography, according to Arthur Morris.

1. Always focus on the eye.

2. Don’t ever crop the bird, always photograph the whole bird.

3. Never photograph the bird from below.

And there you have it, those three golden rules are what finally made me see what I did not like about this guy, or at least, about his followers: rules! Mr. Morris might be the father of bird photography and he is talented and a pioneer indeed, but I do not see what others do in his work. It just doesn’t move me. I have a Fine Arts background and even though abstract painting is not the same as bird photography, I think the same principles apply:

THERE ARE NO RULES.

Then I discovered, by mere accident, the work of Markus Varesvuo and now I was really excited. He had no apparent rules. HIs work was subtle, thought-out and beautiful. I am not planning to describe his work, please go and Google it, but after that I really started to try different things with my photography. I talk to Markus once in a while (well, not really talk, but chat on Facebook) and his work is still an inspiration. He can turn a pigeon or a mallard into a work of art. It does not matter if the bird is rare or common, if it’s perching on a tree on the woods or in front of house… wherever the bird is, whatever the bird is, Markus can turn it into the protagonist of a beautiful story. His two books, Magic Moments and Fascinating Birds, are proof of his craft.

So moving on, there are no rules, as long as technique meets skill and soul.

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